Page 53 of Lawless God

But I can’t fight back, right? He said it himself; it’s not the chains, or the locked windows, it’s not even the very fact that he could easily overpower me. It’s the documents. It’s three life-destroying pictures.

Simple pieces of paper that keep me still when the click of the lock slotting into place resonates loudly in my head.

“What’s that face you’re making?” His hand grazes up my calf, caressing my skin, raising goosebumps along the way.

When a devastatingly beautiful blue-eyed monster hides under your bed, ready to eat you whole, are you meant to let your body react to him?

And if not, what am I supposed to do to stop him?

I refuse to let my eyes leave the shackle around my ankle, as it’s a reminder of my predicament. A reminder that his hand, now caressing the back of my knee, is a lure to get me to talk and open myself up, only so that he can destroy me better. That he’s not asking why I’m making that face so he can find what’s upsetting me—and isn’t it obvious what is? No, he’s asking what that face is. Because he has no idea.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I snarl. “Isn’t it such a lonely life being incapable of reading what someone is feeling? Being unable to share their joy, their sadness, their excitement?”

I lean closer and my gaze darts to his impassive face. “Having to rely on others to let you know what they truly feel makes you powerless and weak.”

Still on his knees in front of me, he puts his other hand on my other knee, spreading my legs apart. The silk slides up my thighs, stopping just at my mound and revealing a fact we both knew. That he gave me a nightgown but no underwear.

He kneads my muscles, both hands now moving under my thighs.

“What is it?” he repeats. There’s an undertone of frustration in his question, and I can go through today knowing I got to him.

He pushes up, sending me backward. My back falls onto the mattress, and his hands now ride to the junction of my legs and my hips as he drags me to the edge of the bed.

“Nate,” I pant, a sudden warmth flooding my veins. “What are you—”

“What is that face?”

I look up, but he’s not even looking at my face anymore, his mesmerizing eyes are locked on my pussy.

He licks his lips, a challenge crossing his gaze.

He’s excited.

He’s excited because he can’t read me, and he wants to confront the issue at hand.

His head drops as he immobilizes me, locking his forearms around my legs, keeping my ass at the edge of the bed. He kisses my inner thigh, and there’s nothing I can do to stop the electricity that leaves his soft lips traveling to my clit.

“Don’t…”

I feel him smile against my skin. “Remember, little sunflower.” He kisses my skin. “That word isn’t included in our marriage.”

I shake my head as his fingers dig into my flesh. He’s holding my legs apart, his shoulders between them, his hands harshly gripping the apexes of my thighs.

He presses harder, a bruising hold that tears a whimper out of me as my head falls back on the bed. I squirm, my hands flying to the only thing I can grip, his hair. The second I pull, he holds harder.

“Fuck,” I hiss. “You’re hurting me.”

“I know,” he growls against me.

The pads of his fingers feel like blades as he ups it to another level. “Ow—Nate,” I cry out.

“How much pain does it take to make you desperate for me to eat this beautiful pussy?”

“I don’t—I won’t. It-it doesn’t—aah! It hurts!” My sudden rage is subdued by the realization that my hips just pushed forward. That I just fucking tried to get my pussy closer to his mouth.

“That’s it,” he purrs. “This little cunt is getting desperate.” I feel his mouth on my inner thigh again, and the sudden sharp pain of his teeth biting my skin makes me jump.

“Fuck!” I shriek. I slap the top of his head, knowing it won’t change anything for him.

---