Page 116 of Jewel of the Assassin

I have to.

He’s manipulating you. You’ll hate yourself forever.

I’ll hate myself more if Roman dies.

All thoughts vanish when Anton takes my nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue around the bud, then suckling hard. He repeats with the other nipple, stabbing at the erect tip with his tongue. My fingers claw at the sheets, hands shuddering. He lives up to his word. And I can’t say he’s not good at what he does.

Nowhere near Roman’s godlike level.

Anton has no emotion. It’s all a means to an end, to get what he wants, to win. To take everything from me, from us.

Whatever breast he’s not tormenting with his mouth, he alternates, plucking at my nipples or slapping the swells. I’m still not wet by any means, but the warmth begins to flow. And I feel like a traitor.

“Get out of your head,” Anton snarls, kneading my breast hard enough to leave bruises. He slaps the left breast, grinning at how it bounces, and then slaps the right with more effort. I gasp and let out a genuine whimper. “Horosho devochka.”

I sob for another reason, but he interprets it as pleasure and moves on. The treasonous heat feathers my pussy as he kisses hisway down my body until he arrives between my legs. And spreads them wide. I open them more, laying my knees on the bed.

“There you are. Such a good bride,” he praises weakly while gazing at me.

It’s another level of vulnerability, of forced twisted hunger. He cocks his head, nostrils flaring. “You smell divine. So pink, such a deep rose. Still inflamed and puffy from my dick.”

I swallow back bile.

I brace myself as he seals his mouth to my pussy and steals my breath. His tongue curls and licks, delving deep to rim my hole, then sweeping back up to flick my clit. Two fingers test my opening. It’s still sore, but he’s tender. He pumps, sliding in and out with care. His warm mouth covers all my wet folds, hot tongue circling, lips capturing my clit to suck. And a fever spreads into my blood, radiating to every corner of my body.

One more thrust of his fingers, and I fall off the edge, my hands flying to his hair, all my inner muscles clenching, squeezing around those fingers. I ride it out, wishing it wasn’t good. But it still feels hollow after. Pointless.

As soon as the orgasm fades, Anton drags his mouth across my skin, tonguing and pressing open-mouthed kisses everywhere. My skin tingles, gooseflesh spreading wherever he touches.

Knowing how sensitive my nipples are, he ravishes them. “Such fine tits.” He palms one while nibbling the other, stares up at me while his tongue flicks them every which way, and forces my gaze to hold his. “Flawless. Ripe and heavy.”

Another genuine cry leaves my mouth when he sinks his teeth in, followed by more tears. He tugs and tweaks each erect bud, sending tendrils of invisible vibrations right to my clit until more wetness slicks my opening. I bite back a moan, but can’t help the urge to arch. The moment three of his fingers plunge into me while the heel of his hand strokes my engorged clit, I grind against his hand and convulse, clamping around his fingers. Pleasure surges through my veins, splashing warmth to my face.

“That’s right, Valentina,” he coos, lips rubbing the corner ofmy mouth. “Ride my hand. Such a good girl. Two down. One to go.”

Rubbing my clit through the climax, Anton opens my mouth with his again. Once my lips are swollen, he gazes down at me with a smirk. “Don’t worry, moya nevesta. I won’t make you come again on my tongue or my hand. My brother has too many delicious toys for that.”

My breath catches as he reaches into the nightstand drawer next to the bed and pulls out something. I blink a few times, my spine locking up at the sight of the one toy Roman hasn’t used on me yet.

A vibrating wand with three attachments. The head with the multi-pronged base for the clit. The thicker curved attachment for my pussy. And the narrower but long anal beaded probe. After coating them in lube, Anton slides the curved attachment, rimming my opening, doing the same with the anal probe. Eyes wide, but my vision blurry from the tears, I feel my sphincter closing around one bead.

And then?—

“Oh, God!” I cry out as he shoves both attachments inside, burying them to the hilt. All six anal beads. “Please stop,” I moan as he pumps them in and out.

He hardens, his eyes sharpening. “You made the bargain.”

My whole body is tight. It hurts. A bad pain. Not Roman pain. I try my best to relax. I clench my eyes shut. Every minute, every moment, he’s suffering far worse in the dungeon.

One horrific, gut-turning, heart-shattering thought creeps into my head. I’ve only known him for a few months. He lied to me. He was responsible for the crash, for my missing memory. He made everyone else lie to me. Kept Sasha from me.

I crush the thought. I replace it with all the memories we’ve shared, the found family I’ve come to love, the one I’m protecting now. I replace it with my love for Roman. My king. My crown.

He ripped me from a realm where I was dying, a realm of isolation, a realm where my father, who killed my mother. Romanspent six years—six years—killing for me, building this place for me, saving our found family, and giving them a home.

Whatever ill-gotten paths he took would never have even been necessary if his father and brother hadn’t betrayed him.

I was always meant for Roman. And he for me.