Page 116 of Ivory Ashes

This means nothing.

He means nothing.

Which is why it’s perfectly okay for me to take what I want. He told me not to fall in love with him when we got married.

Well, there’s no chance of that happening anymore. So what’s a little hate fuck in the meantime?

I tug against his hold on my wrists and find his mouth. It’s a war of teeth and lips and tongues. The taste of iron blooms in my mouth. He’s still bleeding.

Good.

Mikhail unzips my skirt for the second time today and palms me. Then his fist closes and he rips the lace of my panties off of my body. The fabric cuts into my hips and I cry out, but the sound is lost as he drives two fingers into my aching pussy.

“You’re dripping.” Mikhail bites my earlobe and I have no idea how to make sense of the pleasure and the pain of it all.

“Then get your fingers out of me and give me what I really want.”

Mikhail curls his fingers inside of me until I whimper just to prove a point. Then he pulls his hand away, unzips his pants, and slams every inch of himself into me.

“Is that what you want?” he growls against my skin. His teeth drag over my neck with every word. “You want me to make you feel good?”

It feels so good. Which complicates everything.

“Even if it’s good now,” I pant, “it’ll be hell later. This is the only thing you and I have ever been good at.”

He drags in and out of me in slow, steady strokes. The friction makes my toes curl. My head lolls back against the wooden post.

Mikhail releases my wrists so he can grab onto me for better leverage. I claw my nails down his back and at his shoulder blades as I pull him closer.

“You know what would make me feel good? If you sucked at this.” I moan as he fills me completely, my body spasming around him. “Maybe if this didn’t feel good, I could forget about…”

He swirls his tongue over my nipple and palms my breasts. “Forget about what?”

I could forget about the future I’ve begun to imagine. The life we could all have—you, Dante, and me. Maybe if the sex was horrible, I’d be able to see clearly that despite whatever fantasy I have built up in my head of what a marriage to you could look like, it’s just that: a fantasy. I need to let it go. You aren’t right for me. You can’t be. You’ll never be.

Instead of saying any of that, I tear Mikhail’s hand away from my chest and wrap his fingers around my throat. I stare into his icy blue eyes, challenging him.

He strokes in and out of me, his jaw flexing as he hits deeper and deeper places. “You want me to hurt you, Viviana?”

“You already have,” I whisper, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. “You’ve ruined my life and fucked up my head. Might as well add my body to the list. How much worse could a few bruises be?”

He leaves his hand around my throat, but he doesn’t tighten his fingers. He doesn’t make any move to do anything except fill me again and again.

I’m stretched around him, aching and pulsing. I’ll come like this if he keeps going, looking into his eyes as he pumps into me.

And that terrifying thought is enough for me to slap him across the face.

The sound echoes between us, but before I can even pull my hand away, Mikhail jerks out of me, flips me over, bends me on the end of the bed, and cracks his hand across my ass.

I yelp, but the sound is lost to another spank in the same exact place. I can feel each individual finger.

My skin is already tender and hot, but Mikhail hits me again.

It should hurt. I want it to hurt. And it does—but not in the way I want it to. It’s a pain that demands more of the same. I find myself arching my back, seeking out his hand.

“You want me to leave bruises?” he growls, spanking me so fast that my body is rocking against the bed. The headboard is slapping against the wall, matching his steady rhythm. “I’ll mark up your pretty skin, Viviana—but when you see the bruises later, you won’t want to stay away from me. You’ll want more.”

I know he’s right. It’s not even over yet and I want more.

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