Page 78 of Thorns of Blood

He withdrew his hand from between my legs and before I could mourn the loss, he unbuckled his belt and I could feel his hard erection brush against my entrance. A shudder went through me, the anticipation of pleasure making me gasp.

My hand found his thigh and I dug my fingers into his muscles, then his fingers went back to my throat.

“Are you ready for me, wife?”

He waited for my answer while I gasped for air, every fiber of me shaking with anticipation.

“Yes, fuck me now, husband.”

A growl vibrated from his chest, the fabric of his suit brushing against my back as he thrusted inside. I moaned at all the sensations hitting me, my juices dripping down my thighs.

“So fucking tight.” His grunts filled my ears as we effortlessly fell into rhythm. It took no time, a few thrusts, and pleasure built, my moans echoing in the air. We both stared at the mirror, a reflection of him owning me and devouring me alive.

My skin was sweaty, flushed, and our bodies molded to each other perfectly. With his hand around my throat, it appeared I was completely at his mercy, but he was at mine too.

“Look how you own me, wildflower. We were made for each other. You’re mine, and mine alone. I belong to you and nobody else.”

The dark possessiveness in his words heightened my pleasure as he was pounding me to within an inch of my life. He fucked me fast and hard, then deep and slow. My breasts bounced and ached from the arousal, the savage pleasure building in my core.

All of a sudden, he tightened his grip on my throat and out of nowhere, I came. Ecstasy rushed through me and Giovanni bent me over the counter then gripped my hips, fucking me through my orgasm.

He went deeper, harder, pulled out, only to drive back in again and again. The way he took and gave made my thighs messy and sticky with arousal. He fucked me on and on, the intensity of it drawing whimpers and moans from my throat.

Another orgasm built in my core, spreading all over my body while Giovanni pounded harder, his strokes hitting so deep inside me that I didn’t know where I began and he ended. Then warmth filled my insides as he shuddered against me, his hot breath in my ear.

“Mine,” he growled, and for the first time in my life, I loved the idea of belonging to someone.

TWENTY-EIGHT

LIANA

Sweat trickled down my spine as I ran through the forest. The flashlight that I gripped tightly in my hand outlined a clear path on the black dirt. The distant hoots of an owl echoed in the otherwise silent night.

My hair stuck to my face and my breathing labored, but all I was focused on was escaping this. Escaping my husband. Escaping her. It was the only way I’d be able to escape the hell I’d been living through during the last couple of months. Since they murdered my baby.

A shiver went through me, and I clutched the flashlight tighter as tears streamed down my cheeks.

I shouldn’t have trusted anyone. It was all my fault.

Wiping my face with the back of my hand angrily, I forced myself to stop crying. There was no sense in shedding tears: there was nobody to cry for or to help me.

I’d seen the evil in that woman, but I ignored my instincts. Blinded by hope, even with all her malice right in front of me. I’d seen it over and over again.

I made my choices, and I’d live with them.

It was useless anyhow. My baby was gone, and all I could do now was run. Over and over again, until it killed me. Or I managed to escape, and I’d kill them.

My throat burned with the force of my emotions, the tears soaking my cheeks and slipping into my mouth, making me taste salt.

I was truly on my own in the world now.

The sound of the crunching of leaves echoed behind me and I whirled around, my eyes scanning the darkness. The sound wasn’t consistent so it couldn’t be an animal.

It was almost hesitant. Careful. I was being stalked, and they were getting closer and closer.

Just then, a shadow passed between the trees, but before I could blink, it was gone. I stepped back, my sneakers crunching against the dirt.

I inhaled deeply and slowly, focusing on the sounds and their movements. But then, it was gone. Maybe I’d misheard it? I hadn’t slept. Scared of the living, even more of the dead. Whenever I closed my eyes, all I could see was my baby torn from my belly, then shoved into a bag. So much blood.