Page 84 of Scorch

“You talk to me before you lose your fucking mind,” he grates, lifts his hand and snaps the belt across my ass again. Tears blur my vision. “You had your chance. Now, you’ll suck while I talk, and you listen to me.”

I whimper and suck, closing my eyes as I drown in sensation and warmth. I want this so badly; my protests and anger ebb away with every vicious thrust of his cock. Again, he thrusts, and I gag, my eyes watering.

“Yes, I was fucking obsessed with you,” he growls, his hand on my cheek painful as he holds me in position. “Not was. Am. When I go to bed at night, all I think about is you. When I wake up in the morning, where you are and if you’re safe are my first thoughts. Even now, I fucking pat the bed the second my eyes open to check for you.”

He thrusts, and I lick and suck, taking this all in as he throbs in my mouth, and my clit aches to be touched.

“Yes, I stalked you. Yes, I fucking tracked you. Yes, I spent years seeking revenge on the bullies who fucking tormented you. Where do you think I got this scar? One of the assholes cut me, but I wear it with pride because it’s a battle scar. The memory of what I did for the woman I love.”

My eyes go wide, and still, I suck—licking the tip just to gain some control, but he’s impermeable, immovable, his gaze locked on mine as he lifts the belt and snaps it across my ass. “And maybe I thought of this, Lydia. You, here, on your knees with your mouth wrapped around my cock.” When he whips me again, I feel a trickle of arousal slide down my leg. I stifle a whimper.

“Maybe I imagined what it would be like to fuck you. To be near you. To fucking own you. But most of all? Most of all, I thought about what I would do if you were mine. How I’d never let anyone harm a hair on your head.”

He slaps my ass with the belt again while I obediently suck his cock, before he drops it to the floor, grabs my head with both huge, rough hands, and forces me to suck him deeper. I gag, but he keeps fucking my mouth. “I told you. All I’ve ever wanted was you. All I’ll ever want is you. All I’ll ever need is you.”

His hips jerk, and I can tell he’s just on the verge of coming when he grasps my head and yanks me off of him. “Bend over that fucking table before I jerk off all over you, tie you to my bedpost, and set this fucking house on fire.”

Oh dear God.

I’m reeling from what he’s saying, what he’s doing, my mind a blank slate and my body deliciously pliable. I bend over the table and spread my legs, unable to stop myself if I wanted to. His hot, thick cock lines up at my entrance while he fingers my ass, and my mouth falls open in a silent scream.

He bends his mouth to my ear. “I love you, Lydia. And yes, I’m obsessed with you. I have no regrets. None.”

He thrusts in me so hard I scream, bracing myself on the table. I’m so full, so perfectly filled with him, that I can’t think beyond the need to feel him thrust again, and again, and again. I need him. I want him. I’m fucking dying to have him come in me.

“You are mine, Lydia,” he growls as the first wave of ecstasy consumes me. “Mine,” he says with another savage thrust. “And don’t you ever fucking forget that.” As his hot seed lashes into me, he fists my hair and yanks my head back. “Tell me. Tell me you’re mine,” he demands before he sinks his mouth to my neck and bites.

I scream, hot pain melding with pleasure as he thrusts into me again and again. Bliss explodes in my body, my pulse racing as it washes through me. I grip the table and give myself over to the kind of pleasure only Viktor could ever give me.

This. This is what I want, what I need. I can’t be with a man who doesn’t love me like this. I can’t be with a man who doesn’t make me fucking burn for him.

I scream his name while I come. I take every drop of his seed until I collapse to the table. The torn bit of paper clings to my damp skin as the cup rolls off and bounces off the floor.

“I’m yours,” I say with abandon, breathing into him. “Yours, Viktor.”

As always, when we’re spent, hot, and sweaty, and he's come back to his senses, he lifts me to his chest and carries me to the bedroom. This time, though, he takes off all my clothes so he can inspect me.

He kisses the red lines of welts on my ass and thighs.

I hiss in a breath when he frowns and shakes his head. “I like those,” I tell him. I do. I love looking at them in the mirror and remembering how I got them. I love the pain they bring. I smile wickedly to myself at the sting the day after he welts me.

“Stay there,” he says. “I’m cleaning you up.”

He comes out with the warm washcloth and washes me all over before he kisses my temple again. “I love you so much, Lydia. So much.”

My eyes feel heavy as I lie next to him.

I haven’t told him I loved him yet.

It seems so fast as if I’m in a race car that’s gone out of control, and at any minute, I’m going to careen into something that destroys me.

I fall to sleep with his arm slung around me and wonder what is so wrong with a girl like me that I can only come when it hurts and only love when it’s wrong.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Viktor

“I think it’s probably best if we go to my mom’s,” Vera says over coffee the next day. “She’s supposed to be getting back from her trip today and will be able to go over the final guest list.”

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