Page 65 of Wicked Court

Kaspian moves behind my head, unbuckling the bindings on my wrists.

It takes all of my willpower not to plead with him for more as he frees me, my arms heavy and aching from their restraints.

In one swift motion, he slips off his hood. The carved planes of his face are striking in the light—harsh angles and a sardonic half-lift of his lips that guarantees more torment than Wilder or Cav’s teeth-baring grins.

My heart won’t stop pounding as I clench and unclench my fists, feeling the blood rush back into them.

Kaspian runs his fingers down my arm, tracing goosebumps left on my skin by his touch.

“Are you sad, sweetheart?”

His words are like a knife twisting in my gut, digging deeper into the raw wound of my emotions. I refuse to answer, gritting my teeth and clenching my trembling lips as they struggle not to give in to his manipulation. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over and betray the humiliation I’m trying to hide.

The question hovers like a dark cloud, taunting me with its simplicity, daring me to admit defeat.

But I refuse. I will not let him see me crumble, even as my heart feels like it’s being crushed in a vise.

But a choked sob escapes my throat.

“My sweet, sweet girl,” he says, toxic promise dripping from each syllable. “Only the women I’ve shattered may ride my cock.”

Before I can even process his words, Kaspian grabs me roughly by the hair and bends me over, forcing my upper body onto the slab where I had been confined moments ago.

In one brutal thrust, he sheathes himself deep inside me. The stretch is both torturous and divine, filling me up as if he were made for this spot.

My pussy clings to him, my lips parted in a silent gasp at the intrusion that feels both violent and right.

He sets a punishing pace, pistoning into me, the slapping sound of skin on skin filling the room. His hand finds my hip, the other still knotted in my hair, gripping me possessively as he plunges in and out with a vengeance.

I still have his taste on my tongue. I meet his thrusts with desperation, unwilling to let go until he gives me release.

My thighs quake under him; sweat beads on my skin as he increases speed.

“Yessss...” I moan into the moment, unable to hide my wanton need.

A growl rumbles from Kaspian’s chest as he slams into me faster still, ramming my hips into the stone’s edges, which will surely leave angry bruises.

I bite down on my bottom lip to stifle my cries, wanting nothing more than to beg for more, but knowing better than to challenge him now.

With a sharp tug on my hair, Kaspian pulls my head back to until it feels like he’s trying to tear it off.

And at last, finally…

Sharp pain and pleasure explode in a cacophony of impacts that has me shrieking his name.

But as the echoes of our shared ecstasy begin to fade, a heavy stone settles in the pit of my stomach.

The necklace, a mere trinket with the power to shift destinies, pulses to the forefront of my mind with malevolent intent.

In that moment of vulnerability, I’m forced to realize the gravity of my predicament. I steel myself against the rising tide of uncertainty.

I don’t know if revealing the whereabouts of the necklace will lead to salvation or ruin—for Kaspian, for me, for everyone entangled in the twisted spires of the Cimmerian Court.

Chapter 21

Elara

A sudden wind howls through the archways of the dungeon like a coming storm, the kind that I’m positive sweeps through this entire manor with wild abandon.

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