Page 42 of The King of Hearts (The Raven Group #1)

He releases my throat enough for me to suck in a breath, and I mutter, “Your pussy.”

“Forever, Savina. Until we both breathe our last breath.”

He spins me around before I have a chance to respond.

Using the back of my thighs, he hoists me up, and my legs automatically go around his waist, and my hands clutch his shoulders.

The friction of my bare pussy against the slightly rough cotton of his sweats, but especially the hard rod beneath them, has my breath catching on a silent moan.

I don’t want to be turned on, but I am. Holy hell, am I ever.

He leaves the bathroom and goes straight to the high platform bed, setting me down on the end of it.

“Lie against the pillows,” he orders, taking a step back. There’s a huge outline of his cock tenting the front of his sweats and it reminds me of how big he is.

My breasts quiver and flutters swirl in my stomach as I scoot back. I don’t know why I’m so easily complying to his demands. This wasn’t my plan. I was supposed to make this hard on him, not give in so easily.

I’ll fight him later, I decide. When my mind isn’t so consumed with lust.

I sit with my knees drawn up, my legs closed, feeling vulnerably exposed.

“Spread your thighs.”

I purse my lips, not complying at first to give myself time to come to grips with what’s about to happen.

Before, when I imagined myself losing my virginity, I never imagined it would be like this.

In a mansion on a seaside cliff. Owned by a psycho who has an deranged obsession with me.

The same man who’s blackmailing me into marrying him.

I focus on Ryker standing at the end of the bed.

Legs spread apart with bulging arms hanging loosely at his sides.

Eight rigid planks make up his abs. Several tattoos cover his torso and wrap themselves down his arms. My mind’s too preoccupied to discern the designs of the ink, but I can’t miss the scars.

Multiple clusters of crisscrossed lines start just below his pecs and stop where his pubic hair begins.

There are more on the top of his thighs.

How did he get them? Are they from an accident?

If I’m not mistaken, they look like they may have come from a knife, so I don’t think an accident is the case.

Did someone hurt him? From the color, they look old.

How old was he when he got them? Did he hurt himself?

Is he a cutter? Some internal instinct shies away from that possibility.

I push those questions to the back of my head to think about later.

His hair, which has mostly dried, looks messy, like he carelessly swiped a towel over it only to get rid of the excess water after his shower. His cheeks and chin sport the beginning of a five o’clock shadow.

Since he started coming to me, it’s always him I see when I fantasize about sex. Or rather, a man in a black mask. The erotic pictures I’ve drawn the last few weeks? My masked devil is in them all. When I read my dirty books, it’s him I picture doing those depraved things to me.

“Spread your thighs, Savina, or I’ll tie them open to the bed.”

Moisture pools between my legs. Maybe I should refuse him to see what he does. Tied down to his bed with my legs spread open, my pussy on full display for him, doesn’t sound so bad.

Instead, I slowly part my thighs as commanded. His eyes drop, and I swear I feel the caress of them on my exposed flesh.

“Good girl. Now pry those lips apart. I want to see that pretty pussy that’ll turn you from being my innocent little Savina to Daddy’s vicious whore.”

My cheeks flush, and my hands shake more from being turned on so much than anything else as I reach down and spread my lips. Ryker’s gaze turns hungry, ravenous, feral and it adds fuel to the fire already blazing through me.

Using one hand, he shoves the band of his sweats down below his testicles and with the other, he wraps his fingers around his cock.

He’s long and hard, the head an angry red as he slides his hand up and down.

My mouth waters, wanting to lick up the length of him and suck him into my mouth.

To lap away the bead of moisture that’s clinging to the tip.

I never thought I’d be so into giving blow jobs, but it’s what I want to do right now.

I want that thing filling my mouth, stuffing it so full that spit slides out the corners of my lips.

I can still feel him in my throat from that time on the balcony at the Sheppard Ball.

“So fucking beautiful,” he grates. “All pink and soft and dripping wet. A feast for me to devour.” He looks up, his heated gaze meeting mine. “You want my mouth there, Vicious?”

A shudder racks through me. “Yes,” I moan.

“Beg me. Beg me to fuck it with my tongue. To lap up all of your juices and devour your pretty cunt. To bite and lick and eat it.”

I’m so desperate for his touch that the plea leaves my mouth automatically. “Please.”

“Please, what? You’ll lay there and fucking suffer unless you say the words, Savina.”

“Please.” I lick my lips. “Please lick me. Eat me.”

He jacks his cock a few more times before he shoves his sweats the rest of the way down his legs.

He crawls on the mattress and doesn’t stop moving until his knees are between my spread feet.

He grabs the back of my thighs and forces my legs back so far that my knees are near my ears and my ass is in the air.

Before I get the chance to register what’s going on, his face is in my pussy and he’s taking his first long swipe with his tongue.

I jerk in his hold, a loud cry forcing its way out of my mouth. “Oh, God!”

“Ryker,” he snarls and bites down on my lips. “You say my fucking name.” Then he goes back to licking.

“Ryker,” I moan.

His rumble of approval sends shock waves through me. “Again.”

“Ryker!” I shout.

Still with his hands on my thighs, he pushes my legs out further, spreading them as far as they’ll go. I latch my fingers through his hair and pull him tighter against me.

It’s just like he said, he’s turned me into a wanton fucking whore for him.

“Fuck my face, Vicious,” he grunts. “Smear your juices all over me. Fucking smother me and take what’s only yours.”

I do so. I grind so hard against his face that it’s a miracle he can still breathe.

I tip my chin against my chest and watch as he completely consumes me, devouring me whole, eating me like I’m the last meal he’ll ever have.

Waves of intense pleasure slam through my body, stealing my breath and my very sanity.

Before I fall over the steep cliff I’m quickly climbing, he takes his mouth away.

“No, please,” I whimper, looking down at him with pleading eyes. The lower half of his face is covered with my arousal.

He doesn’t even acknowledge my plea as he releases one of my thighs, but lays his arm over the back of them, keeping them in place.

His other hand goes between my legs and we both watch what he’s doing.

Using his index finger, he poises it at my entrance.

I’m transfixed as he slowly pushes it inside until he meets the thin strip of my innocence.

His eyes lift to mine, and there’s no way to describe the look in them.

With our gazes still locked, and a steady, merciless move, he thrusts his finger inside me, tearing away my innocence.

I cry out at the pain, shocked at how much it hurts.

My legs stiffen, and I try to shove him off of me, but his hold is too strong.

I grip his hair hard enough that I feel strands snap, but still he stays right where he is.

“Two fucking years I’ve waited to do this,” he says, his voice dark and filled with gravel. “To feel your virgin blood on my hands. To taste it on my tongue. Now I’ll claim every last drop of it.”

Then his finger leaves me, and he drops his head.

The first swipe of his tongue is soothing, the warmth a comfort against my tender flesh.

When he shoves it inside me, touching the torn edges, it stings, but it’s not completely unpleasant.

In fact, the pain sends bolts of pleasure to my nerve endings, and I arch up into his touch.

He plunders my pussy, pushing his tongue inside as far as it’ll go before backing out and laving it around my clit. His teeth clamp down on the sensitive bundle of nerves and he sucks hard.

He pushes my legs back further, my knees digging into the mattress by my head. His whole mouth covers my pussy, and I feel a suction, like he’s trying to suck out every drop of blood that seeps from me, just like he said he wanted.

“Yes!” I cry to the ceiling. “Ryker, yes! Just like that!”

He shakes his head like an animal and growls against me, and the vibration has my eyes snapping closed. One hand leaves his hair to reach over my head, my hand pressing against the headboard for purchase as he utterly destroys me.

“You taste like fucking heaven and sin all at once,” he groans.

When my orgasm hits, it does with a force that shocks me. It starts in my core and takes over every molecule of my body, lighting each cell on fire. The shout I release as my insides liquefy is so loud I’m surprised the windows don’t rattle.

Ryker doesn’t let up. He continues eating me like his life depends on it. I can’t breathe, and my heart rate skyrockets. The muscles in my stomach are sore from tensing, and a wave of dizziness hits me.

The next orgasm is just as powerful and consuming, and it completely decimates my energy once it’s over.

I melt into the mattress, boneless and with no will to move.

Movement comes from between my legs, and I peel my eyes open to look down.

Ryker’s head is lifted, and he’s looking up at me.

His lower face is covered with my juices, including some smears of my blood.

I don’t understand his fixation on tasting my blood, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make my insides heat.

“Goddamn fucking perfection,” he says quietly, licking his lips.