Page 41 of The King of Hearts (The Raven Group #1)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HER
T he day has been a long one, and my nerves have rattled me for most of it.
Exhaustion doesn’t cover the way I feel.
I’m tired down to my bones. It’s not just my energy that’s depleted.
My brain feels fried as well. The shower I just stepped from helped a little, but I worry nothing will fix what’s wrong with me except getting out of the situation I’m in.
The bathroom I’m in is huge and puts the one attached to my room at home to shame.
The shower itself is big enough to hold five people comfortably, and there are multiple showerheads.
Two coming from the ceiling and several from the walls.
Honestly, who the hell needs water blasting at them from the sides? The tile is checkered black and gray.
The counter I’m standing in front of is twice as long as I am and holds two sinks.
The faucets are a brushed black chrome, and the mirror is just as long as the counter.
There’s a huge sunken garden tub the size of a Jacuzzi that I have to admit I’m excited to use.
The walls are a cream color and the tiles match the black ones in the shower.
When I step in front of the mirror, the glass isn’t fogged from condensation.
I let the towel I’m holding around my middle fall to the floor, and I take in my reflection.
I release the clip holding my hair up and let the long strands fall down my back and shoulders.
My cheeks are a light pink from the heat of the water, and a few drops still pepper my face.
I slide my eyes down to my breasts. They’re not big, but not small either. An average C cup. Will they get bigger the further along I get in my pregnancy? Will they become more sensitive? I’ve heard of some women going up a cup size and being overly sensitive.
My gaze moves lower. My hips flare out in what people used to call child-bearing hips.
My stomach is flat, but that won’t last long.
Soon it’ll start to slowly expand, making way for another life to grow.
To be so young and pregnant is a scary thing.
I would have never wanted it to happen like this, but now that it’s a reality, I’m looking forward to seeing how my body changes.
Most women dread stretch marks, but I want those little stretches of skin to mark my body.
Having a child is an honor and a rite of passage.
Why wouldn’t I want proof of going through something so special?
Something over my shoulder pulls my attention away from my stomach, and I look up.
In the reflection of the mirror, Ryker pauses in the doorway.
His eyes flare, the gray growing stormier when he sees my naked form.
He must have showered in another bathroom because his hair is damp, and he’s wearing a pair of dark-gray sweatpants that hang low on his trim waist. His chest is bare, revealing skin covered in tattoos, and that’s both good and bad.
It poses a temptation because it looks so lickable.
All dips and valleys of hard muscles. His shoulders are wide, and there’s a light scattering of hair over his defined pecs that trail down his corded abs and dips beneath the waistband of his sweats.
Earlier, when he brought me up here to his bedroom to shower and get ready for bed, he didn’t say anything. Just turned around and left, closing the door behind him. I knew he’d be back, though.
He said he’s waited two years to have me. Now that he has me in his home, I don’t see him waiting any longer.
My feelings for this man are all over the place. I want nothing to do with him and wish he’d drop off the face of the earth. I want to stab him in the eyes and rip out his heart, just like he’s done to his victims. Maybe I’ll put his heart in a jar and keep it for a souvenir.
I want him to take me. To make me feel what only he’s ever made me feel.
I want him to dominate me. To force me and give me no choice but to like it. To hurt me and make me bleed for him.
I blame the books I read for this way of thinking, but really, it’s just my fucked-up mind bringing them forth.
He walks inside the bathroom like he’s stalking his prey.
Predatory and god-like. Dominance radiates off him, and his eyes hold so much heat that I feel the burn on my back.
Liquid fire seeps from between my legs, and my breathing picks up speed.
My stomach dips into a free fall, and tingles slide through the tiny veins of my nerves.
He comes up to me, his naked chest pressing into my naked back.
He’s taller than me by at least a foot, so the hard cock beneath his sweats pushes against my lower back.
I hold his stare in the mirror. Fingers slide through my hair, and my head is turned.
Demanding lips capture mine, his plundering tongue sliding past them.
His hold tightens in my hair, and he angles my head where he wants it. My fingers grip the edge of the counter, desperate to hold on to something before my knees give out.
He tastes like mint and pure masculine man, a heady combination that leaves me dizzy and discombobulated.
He explores my mouth expertly, licking the inside and erotically sliding his tongue against mine. There’s a sharp sting on my tongue, and I jerk my head back. The coppery tang of blood hits my taste buds.
Ryker’s eyes blaze down into mine, anger and possession filling the gray orbs.
“Give me your fucking tongue,” he growls.
I press my lips together and swallow the saliva and blood that’s slowly filling my mouth. “Fuck you. That hurt, you bastard.”
“It’s going to hurt a lot worse if you don’t do as you’re told. Now stick out your tongue, or I’ll make you bleed elsewhere.”
I’m tempted to spit the blood he’s demanding I offer him in his face, but I’m not sure the consequences would be worth it.
My glare is as hot as his as I part my lips and stick out my sore tongue. He must have bitten me pretty good because a drop of blood drips from the end and lands on my chest.
He attacks my tongue, wrapping his lips around it and sucking it into his mouth. He groans, like the taste of my blood is the best thing he’s ever had.
And why, oh why, does that thought turn me on so much?
Stupid fucking dark romance books.
When he pulls back moments later, he runs his tongue over his lips. “Goddamn delicious,” he growls darkly.
I’m panting and out of breath when he lets my hair go, and I face the mirror again. The little drop of blood that fell from my tongue has left a trail of red about two inches long on my chest.
Both of my breasts are grabbed by harsh hands, my nipples getting caught between his thumbs and index fingers. He pinches them so hard it feels like he’s trying to rip them off. I cry out as tears pepper my eyes. It hurts so much, but my core clenches in need.
“My tits,” Ryker says in my ear. He looks at me through the mirror, his hard features matching the painful grip he has on my flesh. “Say it.”
“Fuck you.” I glare at him through the mirror.
“I’ll be fucking you momentarily.” He pinches harder, and I whimper. “Now say the fucking word, Vicious.”
I want to hold on to my resolve, but the pain mixed with pleasure has made me crazed, so it slips out before I can stop it. “Yours.”
Blessed relief comes immediately when he lets my breasts go, and I sag against his chest. One arm wraps around my ribs, and his other hand heads south.
It stops when his big palm settles over my lower stomach, right where his baby sits.
His hand is so big that it nearly encompasses my whole stomach.
This touch is the opposite of the one a moment ago.
It’s soft and gentle, and his expression turns reverent.
“My baby,” he whispers across my ear, sending a shiver through me. “Say it.”
I only hesitate a moment. “Your baby.”
Ownership gleams in his eyes.
Down his hand goes. He slips it over the small trail of hair that covers my pubic bone and between my legs.
I’m so wet that one long finger easily slips between my lips.
He presses just the tip barely inside me.
There’s a bit of an uncomfortable feeling, as if he’s testing the flexibility of my hymen.
His whole palm cups me, and he applies pressure, the heel of his hand hitting perfectly over my clit.
I shift on my feet, my brain screaming at me to push him away. I need to push him away. He has no right to touch me. Not with his threat looming over my head. Over the head of every person involved with The Raven Group.
Only twenty-four hours ago, I was desperate for this man, crazed with the need to have his hands on me. Anywhere, and everywhere, and all over.
I hate my body for going against me because that vicious need is still there. No, it’s not only still there, but it’s growing in strength the more his hand explores. It makes me feel like I’m betraying my family and every person his threat will impact.
“Look at me,” he demands, and I focus on him through the mirror. “My fucking pussy. Say it, Vicious.”
His claim angers me. He shouldn’t get what he wants. He doesn’t deserve to claim ownership of any part of my body. But the thing is, as much as I don’t want to admit it, he does own me. Not because he says so, but because my body demands it.
Even so, fuck this guy. I press my lips together and deny his request, shooting daggers at him from my eyes through the mirror.
In the next blink, his hand is around my throat, and I can’t breathe. Not even a little. I grab his arm with two hands and try to yank his hold free, but it’s no use, not that I really expected to get anywhere.
He dips his head so his mouth is at my ear. “It’s cute that you think you have a choice in the matter. Every inch of your body is mine, whether you give it to me willingly or I take it from you by force.” He bites my earlobe hard. “Stop being a stubborn brat and say the fucking words.”