“You don’t scare me,” I lie, shivering when I roll my hips just right, the tip of his cock hitting that perfect spot.
“Shame,” he murmurs, nipping at the sensitive flesh in the juncture of my collarbone, making my body quake once more. “I love it when you’re a scared little mouse, thrashing beneath my paw and desperate to get away.”
“Does it make you feel powerful?” I ask through gritted teeth, repeating a question he asked me not too long ago. An orgasm is building low in my belly, shredding my control as my movements become choppy.
“Of course, it does,” he murmurs, his deep voice dark and wicked, our moans entwining when I roll my hips. “When you’re in the palm of my hands, it’s the only time I feel like this world is worth saving.”
Panting, I rock faster, chasing the orgasm just within my reach.
“You like to use my cock to make you come, don’t you, baby? Remember that whenever you think you don’t need me. Nothing will make your little pussy feel better than I can. And look, I don’t even have to fucking try.”
My vision blurs, and I reach down between us, thrumming my clit while slamming down on his cock just right until I finally reach that pinnacle.
It feels like my soul is ripped to shreds in a matter of seconds. A scream tears from my throat, even though I can’t hear it. Not when different pieces of my being are scattered in hundreds of thousands of different dimensions.
There’s no sense of time or space, just colors and a feeling of completion. Like I was put together wrong before, and now that I’ve shattered, those pieces were stitched back together the correct way.
It’s fucking addicting, and by the time I come down, Parsons Manor reappearing, I want to go back. Wherever I went, I want to go back.
Zade’s chin is tucked low, seeming defeated in a way. It unnerves me so much that I twist at the hips and grab the key lying on the nightstand. Right when I go to lift off of him, he lifts his head just an inch.
“Don’t,” he warns.
Unsure of where his head is at, I listen and reach around him, fumbling to find the keyhole. Finally, the key slips in, but I hesitate to turn it.
There’s a looming sense of foreboding. I know he’s going to attack, but… it’s not knowing exactly what he’s going to do that unnerves me.
“Zade…”
“What’s wrong, Adeline?” he taunts darkly, eyes still cast downward. “Turn the key,” he whispers.
Fuck, that’s terrifying.
“I don’t know if I want to,” I admit.
“Would you rather I break free myself? You either choose this, or I make the decision for you.”
So, what he’s saying is I only have the illusion of a choice. What a fucking gentleman.
Working to swallow, I hold my breath and twist the key. The metal clicks, and the next second, his hand is wrapped around the underside of my jaw, lifting me up off his dick and into the air.
I cry out when I’m slammed onto the bed, stiff fingers digging into my neck as he fits himself between my legs and hikes one high on his hip. Without further warning, he drives himself inside of me until there’s nothing left of him to give.
“Say it again,” he demands. “I want you to look me in my fucking eyes and say it again.”
He slams into me once more, wringing a sob from my throat.
My throat dries, the words coming up like dry bread. But I stare into his wild eyes, finding an entire universe within, and say, “I love you. And you’ve taken everything from me.”
His head drops low between his shoulders, gliding his stare down my body all the way to where he stretches me, contemplating my words. And then he looks up at me beneath thick brows, a wicked glint in his stare. As if taking everything from me is all he’s ever wanted.
He looks… God, he looks fucking terrifying. Like a man starved for revenge, and he’s finally getting it.
A shuddering breath trickles from my throat as he plunges deep inside me again, a direct threat to destroy all that’s left of me.
“You’ve taken my entire heart and soul and my ability to love another. Sometimes I hate you for that,” I tell him, my voice quaking. He tips his chin up, now staring down his nose at me, a grin stretching across his face, crinkling the scar on his cheek.
I forge on, heart pounding as he grinds against me, enjoying watching me struggle to get the words out. “Sometimes, I wish I’d never met you. Because now that I have, now that I’m in love with you, I’ll never be able to carve you out. You said I’d bleed out before that’d ever happen, and you were right. And I hate you for that.”