Page 65 of Breaking Ophelia

The rules say I have to make it public. That I have to show the world she’s mine.

I can do that.

I dip my head, teeth at her neck, and bite—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make her yelp. I leave the mark, a crescent of teeth in the soft just below her ear.

Her legs buckle. She can’t decide if she wants to run or fight.

I don’t care which.

I kiss her, open and brutal, forcing her lips apart. She tries to twist away, but I hold her tight, tongue invading, mapping every inch of her mouth. She tastes like blood and dirt and something sweeter, something that’s just her.

She bites down, hard, drawing more blood. I groan into her, letting her taste it, letting her feel what she’s done.

“Good girl,” I say, breaking the kiss. “Keep that up.”

She’s crying, but I lick the tears from her cheek, slow and deliberate. “You can cry if you want,” I whisper. “For every tear spilled, is a punishment you can give me.”

I shift my grip, pinning both wrists with one hand. My other hand goes to her thigh, fingers digging into the bruised flesh.

She clamps her legs shut. I force them apart, spreading her knees with my own. Her dress is barely holding together, and I tear it the rest of the way up, exposing her completely.

Her breath comes in gasps now, every inhale a fight.

I drag my fingers up her thigh, slow, letting her feel it. I want her to remember this. I want everyone to remember it.

She bucks, trying to throw me off, but I catch her knee and shove her leg back against the bark. She whimpers, and for a split second I almost stop.

But I don’t.

My hand finds the heat between her legs, and I press my palm to it, grinding hard.

She jerks, her hips trying to wriggle away.

“No,” I say, voice flat. “You stay right fucking there.”

Her body is betraying her. She’s soaked, even after the blood and the dirt and the shame. I rub my thumb over her clit, hard and relentless, watching her face for the second it cracks.

She holds out longer than I expect.

But everyone breaks.

Her back arches. She bares her teeth, lips curling upward.

“You’re a monster,” she spits.

I laugh, rubbing circles over her until her thighs tremble. “And you’re my Roman Empire.”

I slide two fingers inside her, fast, knuckles deep. She grits her teeth, head thumping the tree. I twist my wrist, fucking her with quick, brutal strokes.

She tries not to make a sound, but it leaks out anyway—a stifled sob, then a moan.

“That’s right,” I murmur. “Let them hear you.”

I look at Julian. He’s watching with a hunger that’s almost holy.

I pull my fingers out and show him the wet. He nods, slow, eyes never leaving her.

I put the fingers to her mouth, force them between her lips.