Page 61 of Wicked Court

I say in a tight voice, “That’s not the same?—”

“It’s up to you how far I step over the line,” he says, exposing his dick through the folds of his robe, hard, thick, and lined with veins.

He presses his tip to my pussy, seeking entry where Cav left off. I hiss at the unexpected intrusion but also crave it; the feeling of being owned by these men is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.

I wince at the pain that twinges through my abused flesh, but also feel a dark famine in my chest, prowling, seeking, growing.

I could stop this. Give him the answer. Maybe he’d back off as soon as he had it. Possibly he wouldn’t and fuck me, anyway.

He grabs my hair roughly, pulling my head back to expose my neck as he chuckles menacingly.

“I see it in your face,” he says. “Wondering whether you’ll cry for mercy or beg for more.”

He doesn’t wait for my reply.

Wilder pushes past my resistance, stretching me wider until he’s fully sheathed inside me with one powerful stroke that takes what little air I had left in my lungs. He moves with a starved rhythm, pounding into me in short, sharp thrusts.

Despite myself, I arch into Wilder’s ungracious pounds.

Wilder growls low in his throat and bites down on my shoulder, displacing his mask.

It stings, but also awakens something primal within me.

I wonder if the others are watching.

His teeth marks seer into my skin as he pounds into me harder still—an aggressive claim on my bound body that I’m stunned to discover writhes for more of his punishing touch.

“You’re ours now,” he grits against my swollen skin. “Every inch.”

My heart races as Wilder’s hard length slams into me, claiming me with each ragged thrust. His teeth graze my shoulder again as he bites down harder this time. I gasp at the sting that shoots through my skin and down my spine.

Right to my pussy.

He makes a growl of satisfaction that sends tremors cascading over my body. Wilder’s hand finds its way between us, rubbing against my clit in a steady rhythm that only serves to heighten the ache between my legs.

He doesn’t ask for anything more—he demands it.

As if reading my thoughts, he pulls out of me suddenly, leaving me aching and empty.

“Where is it?” he whispers, his hot breath sending chills up my neck despite the heat coursing through the rest of me.

I shudder under his lack of touch and try not to betray how much I crave him, how much I crave this darkness he weaves around us both.

“Please,” I whisper, knowing full well they’ll never hear me beg like this again once they get what they want from me.

Wilder releases a frayed sigh. His eyes burn with an intense heat that has been building for far too long.

“Your choice, sweetwitch. Because we left the worst for last.”

Chapter 20

Elara

In the too-quiet dungeon, where the scent of rot and rusted chains intermingle, I wait with bated breath for the inevitable.

The flickering torchlights dance along the walls, casting long, ominous arcs of light that seem to sway in anticipation while the air grows dense, a palpable change that whispers his name before my ears catch the sound of his steps.

Kaspian.

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