Page 19 of Intrigue
“I need you to see just how willing I am to go further. I intend to make you beg, princess. Now, stop fighting,” he says, tone laced with a hunger that sets my skin alight.
“You’re impossible,” I hiss, but my voice wavers, betrayed by the shiver his touch ignites.
He pauses mid-stride to unlock a door before jostling me through it and closing it with the heel of his foot, sealing us in a shadowed cage. The moment I land on my feet, I kick him, aiming for his shin. He winces but doesn’t topple over in the way I’d imagined, and my mind blanks, fury mingling with a sick thrill as he stands firm, unyielding.
“Don’t tell me you came all this way to defend Cassian because that would just be foolhardy,” he says, his voice a taunting caress.
“Why’s that?”
“You belong to me, princess, whether you like it or not.” This time around, there’s no teasing in his tone. He says it without hesitation or remorse, his eyes drawn to me as if he doesn’t want me to forget this information, a claim etched in steel and fire.
“You say that because you don’t want to admit you lost and this? This is just fear,” I retort, my words a blade aimed at his pride.
“I am not afraid. Rarely anything ever scares me.” As he says this, he backs me to a corner, his presence a wall of heat and menace. When he throws me on a crate, I do the next worst thing by trying to punch him, but he grabs my hips, places himself between my thighs, and pulls, wedging me right where he wants me, my skirt hiking up, leaving me exposed and trapped.
God, please not this again. How do we always end up like this?
I can’t do anything about it, my breath catching as his hardness presses against me.
A foolish part of me thinks this is a good idea, to be taken with greedy hunger and ravished, devoured until I’m nothing but a trembling wreck. The other part of me, the more rational part, knows it’s only going to get worse if I give into him, a descent into an abyss I might not climb out of. I hate him to the point of wanting to push him off a balcony, but I’d also like to be fucked by him, savagely, until the lines between hate and need blur into oblivion. There’s really no right way to put it. I barely even understand it myself, this twisted knot of loathing and lust choking me.
I try to wriggle against him but come up short. With his huge, muscular body between my legs, I realize he’s caught me good, his thighs pinning mine, his scent, sweat, musk, and sin flooding my senses.
“You don’t think it’s time to accept you still have feelings for me, Selene?” His voice is husky, like he’s finding it a bit difficult to convey his thoughts, rough with want as he leans closer, breath hot on my neck.
“I don’t.” I huff at him but resign when I look at him and catch the tenderness in his gaze, a flicker that pierces my armor. “I hate you.”
“Are you sure?” His hands are in my hair now, tenderly massaging my scalp, a cruel contrast to the fire in his eyes. “Tell me Cassian makes you ache like this, and I’ll stop,” he murmurs, daring me to lie.
I nearly whimper. What the hell? He’s my enemy. If anything, I’m supposed to have him chained, bleeding at my feet. I should hurt him as much as he hurt me—that’s the fair thing to do—and yet in the face of such greed and lust, I don’t do anything, my body betraying me with a shudder I can’t suppress.
He takes my silence for an answer. “That’s right, princess. I’m the one that lights you up, the one that makes your pussy wet and dripping,” he growls, his voice dipping into a filthy drawl. “I bet you’re soaking through those panties right now, aching for me to rip them off and fuck you senseless.”
I shake my head at him in a frenzy, mouthing, “No…” but it’s a weak protest, my core clenching at his words.
“That’s fine,” he says, smirking, eyes gleaming with dark intent. “I don’t plan on giving up anytime soon. I’m gonna make you remember just how good we were together, how I’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk, until you were screaming my name, begging for my cock.”
I should do something. Why am I not fighting and—his mouth crashes against mine.
Holy hell.
Sandro kisses me, driving his tongue in my mouth with such demand I melt into him, a molten surrender I can’t stop. He grinds his body against mine as his kiss deepens, igniting fire deep in my belly, his erection pressing hard against my throbbing core. He nibbles at my lower lip, sucking and twirling and owning my mouth, a savage claim that leaves me dizzy. I’ve been kissed before. Cassian kisses well enough and not once have I ever felt the need to complain, but when Sandro drags me to him and fucks my mouth with his tongue, I realize how inadequate everyone else has been, pale shadows next to this consuming inferno.
Because fuck—this man can kiss, a master of ruin who leaves me gasping and owned.
How could I have ever forgotten this?
He pulls away from my mouth and swipes his tongue on my neck, wet and possessive, marking me. A shiver of pleasure runs through me at the impact, and I freeze, my body alight with a twisted mix of ecstasy and dread. This feels good. So damn good.
And so bad, a sin I’m drowning in.
When he brings his mouth to mine again, I bite down on his lip and taste blood, metallic and hot, a primal thrill surging through me. Even as I gather his shirt in my fist to push him away, I don’t. Instead I pull him closer, blood and all, until I think I’ll never be able to forget him, his taste searing into my soul, a brand I’ll carry forever.
The world narrows to this, his body pressing against mine, the heat, the fight, the sick thrill of knowing I could break if I let myself.
We break away from the kiss, from each other, at the same time, both panting and breathless, our chests heaving, air thick with the stench of our mutual rot.
I stand up quickly from the crate and wipe my mouth with the back of a hand, the taste of his blood lingering, a taunt.