Page 14 of Vow to Corrupt You (Gods of Corruption #1)

I find myself kneeling before him, sliding down his tailored pants.

His cock bursts free, springing up right in front of my face.

God, he’s so big. I know what comes next.

He’ll want to shove it down my throat, and all I can think about is how I will manage to take the entire length.

Considering I haven’t done anything like this before, a spike of panic shoots through my core.

I glance up at him, a nefarious smirk tugs at his lips.

“You lied to me.” He captures my face in his hand, coaxing my gaze higher. “You are scared.” I am. How could I not be? The man I despise is about to fuck my mouth. The man I am forced to call my husband is going to make me have sex with him.

His thumb pries at my mouth, forcing it to part.

Now, he’s invading my mouth with his digit.

I tremble, expecting him to force my mouth wide open so his cock can take the place of his thumb.

But instead, he bends slightly and, with his thumb still in my mouth, helps me to my feet.

Our gazes are locked the entire time. I don’t dare to look away, or perhaps I’m trying to figure out what’s running through his twisted mind.

His thumb runs over my lips, first the upper, then the lower.

“Lie down on the bed,” he commands, and the sliver of hope that he might have a human side shatters like a mirror thrown onto a marble floor, bringing seven years of bad luck. Except for me, seven years would be incredible, but my penance will be a lifetime.

Swallowing, I take a few steps backward and position myself on the bed.

My white lingerie contrasts against the black silk duvet I feel underneath my elbows as I support myself.

Nikos’s jaw clenches, and his eyes darken as they travel the length of my body.

Deliberately, he moves closer, resting his hands on the bed on either side of my hips, and trails slow, wet kisses up my belly and cleavage, making every nerve in me tense.

He positions himself next to me, supporting his weight on his left arm.

His naked body presses against mine; it’s so warm, and yet the feeling raises bone-chilling goosebumps on my skin.

“Are you on the pill?” his voice is laced with that signature growl, and the question makes me flush. I’m not used to talking about… these things.

“No,” I mutter, a heat wave of either embarrassment, or fear, or perhaps both, rushes through my body. “I didn’t need to because… I haven’t…”

“Perfect. That means I’ll be your first, and your last.”

I clear my throat, intimidated by his remark, my body shivering despite the heat coursing through me. “Besides, I figured you’d want an heir from me.”

“No,” he states firmly. “I don’t.”

His answer catches me off guard. I didn’t expect him not to want an heir. Every man in his position wants one, preferably a son, an heir who would take over his empire one day. My brows narrow as I meet his gaze, his eyes flickering with something as painful as it is terrifying.

“I asked because I had a vasectomy, so there’s no need to poison your body with pills,” he adds; his words only deepen my confusion.

He must be hellbent on not wanting children if he went through with that.

Most men wouldn’t. On the contrary, if they want to avoid pregnancies, they expect women to handle it.

But what baffles me most isn’t his vasectomy—it’s the fact that he doesn’t want children at all.

“Why?” The question escapes my mouth before I can stop it.

His head angles slightly, jaw tightens. “I just don’t want to have children. That’s all you need to know.”

Of course, my opinion on the matter wouldn’t count anyway because I’m a woman who is in an arranged marriage.

My body shivers when he nibbles my earlobe, whispering against my ear. “I already told you, we’re not here to talk.” His hot breath sweeps across my neck, making my skin tingle. “Don’t be afraid, wicked one. Anything I do to you tonight will leave you moaning in pleasure. I promise.”

He brings his hand to his mouth, seizing the tip of the leather fabric on his middle finger between his teeth, and slides the gloves off his hand.

He slowly rakes his hand down my collarbone, then belly, finally between my thighs, reaching my sensitive bud, and I gasp.

He removes the gloves only to touch me down there, but never to touch my face or body.

I wonder why? Are his hands ugly, and he doesn’t want me to see?

No, it can’t be that. I’m sure his hands are as beautiful as the rest of his perfectly sculpted body.

What does he hide beneath the black leather fabric?

His fingertips gently rub my clit through the lacy fabric, my entire body tensing up. I can’t control the heatwave building between my thighs. I don’t want to feel anything. I feel disdain toward him, but God, he knows what he’s doing.

“I love seeing how the innocence in your eyes fades when I touch you.” His low rumble of twisted satisfaction blurs in my ears. I try to fight the growing pleasure, but my body’s response to his touch is stronger, and I’ve no power over it. He’s corrupting my senses.

He slides the dripping, lacy fabric of my thong aside and glides his fingers over my wetness, causing an involuntary moan to escape my mouth.

He must’ve done it a hundred times because, dear God, he knows exactly how to touch me; his fingers know precisely how to move to make me want more.

I’m aching for each wicked sensation his fingers cause to my body.

Another moan finds its way out of my mouth, this time louder, more intense.

“You’re so deliciously wet.” I hear the complacent grunt again. “You were made for this, Serena. You were made for pleasure.”

My body shivers, whether it’s from fear or pleasure, as Nikos continues to plant hungry kisses down my chest until he positions himself between my shaky thighs.

“Spread your legs, wicked one . I want to taste what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sends me into overdrive.

I don’t fight him, though. I obey. I know it’s inevitable—having sex with him.

He’s my husband now, and the moment I agreed to marry him, I knew this was coming, whether I wanted it or not.

No matter how much I hate him—and boy, do I hate him—this is now out of my control.

Reluctantly, I spread my legs, and his hands wrap around my thighs.

My body shudders as he licks my center, his tongue trailing all the way up to my clit.

My back arches involuntarily, my hands clenching into fists, gripping the soft sheets.

I’ve never had a man between my thighs, and the sensation is just.. . so damn pleasurable.

I hate myself for enjoying it—I want it more than I’d care to admit.

I hate myself because I know it gives him the satisfaction of possessing me, but my body betrays me anyway.

It squirms toward him, offering itself up to him, and he knows it.

I wish I couldn’t feel the heat growing between my thighs with each stroke of his skilled tongue.

My skin tingles with every warm circle his tongue makes.

“Ah,” I can’t stop the moans escaping my lips as his mouth engulfs my pussy.

My eyes close shut, fists blanching, toes curling as he devours me, his tongue plunging inside me.

My hips want to roll with a greedy, hungry need, but I hold still.

I don’t want to show him how good he makes me feel, but the buildup of my orgasm will speak for itself.

My nerve endings throughout my entire body stand at attention. I want to scream with pleasure as he works me. In and out, each time deeper inside me, fucking me as if it were his cock.

“Oh, God!” I finally cry out, my orgasm exploding, erupting.

I’ve pleasured myself many times, but nothing could compare to this. My legs shake, body trembling. He doesn’t move back; he holds me tighter, his mouth moving up to catch my clit once more and suck so hard, making my orgasm last even longer.

“Oh my God…” The moan escapes again, involuntarily.

He finally releases me, the loss of his body almost making me pout. I meet his gaze as he comes up, looking into my eyes with a wicked grin of pure satisfaction.

“God isn’t necessary, you can call me Niko.”