Page 28 of From the Ashes

“I think my little lamb enjoys being my prey,” he murmurs, dipping his head so his lips are just a breath from mine. His fingers press down on my aching clit, and it’s then I realize just how wet I am.

I can’t like this. It’s wrong. So fucking wrong. And yet I’m writhing against the rough bark at my back, desperate for more. More of him. More of his touch. More of his brutality.

“Kovu,” I breathe, but it comes out more of a whine, which just makes the smug son of a bitch smirk.

His fingers travel downward until they press against my entrance. “Are you desperate for me, Camilla? Does my little lamb need me to take away the ache?”

“No.” I try to push him away, but it’s a feeble attempt and one I’m not sure why I bother with. He knows I want him. Despite everything he’s done, despite the blood of my own father on his hands, I still fucking want him.

Angry tears gather at the corners of my eyes as I force my hands between us and shove against his chest. “No,” I say louder.

His eyes flash with a hint of rejection, but then he’s on me. His lips descend on mine and even though I should push him away. I don’t. I allow him to pour everything into our kiss, the pain, the anger, the betrayal. It’s heady and intoxicating and so fucking addictive it’s wrong.

“You can tell me you don’t want this all you want, Camilla, but you and I both know the truth.” He bites down on my bottom lip until we both taste blood. “We both know that you’re just as depraved as I am. We both know you’re going to let me fuck your tight little cunt right here against this tree or in the dirt at our feet. And we both know you’re going to come so fucking hard, I’m going to be smelling like your sweet pussy for days.”

As if to punctuate his point, he presses two fingers against my entrance and pushes them inside me ever so slowly.

My hips writhe of their own accord, desperate for more, even if I should be pushing him away. How is it I had no interest in sex two months ago, and now here I am in the middle of the night about to get fucked against a tree by the man who killed my father?

Yeah, when I say it like that, it really is more fucked up.

“You’re dripping for me, Little Lamb,” Kovu groans as he buries his face into my neck.

He trails kisses along the delicate flesh, no doubt spreading my own blood as he goes, before he clamps down on a particularly sensitive piece of skin that makes me scream into the night.

“That’s it, baby, scream for me,” he murmurs as he laps at the spot he just sunk his teeth into.

I shift my hips, desperate for more, but he holds me steady.

“I’ll give you what you need in my own time, Little Lamb. After all, I should be punishing you for running from me.”

“Seems like you like to chase me,” I snap.

“Oh, I love to chase you, Camilla. But that’s not what I was referring to.” He brings his face to my level, the sight of my blood shining on his lips makes my pussy pulse with need. “I was talking about when we woke up this morning to you gone. No note. No idea if you were safe. No fucking clue where you were.”

The vulnerability in his tone does something to me, and I can’t help but feel a little guilty for how I handled things.

“You lied to me.” My voice cracks. “You all lied to me.”

“We didn’t lie.”

“A lie by omission is still a lie.”

He watches me for long moments, his fingers still moving inside me as he brings me to the edge and then carefully guides me back again. Over and over again, he lets me taste the release he’s holding at bay but never allows me close enough to fall.

“Kovu,” I whine.

“Maybe I should leave you wanting. Maybe that should be your punishment for scaring the shit out of me this morning.”

I glare at him. “If you did that, I’d just take care of myself.”

He chuckles. “It’s cute that you think I wouldn’t be watching you like a hawk to make sure you didn’t touch my pussy.”

I huff out a sigh, followed by a low moan as his fingers move against my G-spot. “Kovu, please.” I fucking hate myself for begging him right now. For giving him the satisfaction. But I can’t take it anymore. I’m desperate for more.

“Get my cock out, Little Lamb.”

He lifts his free hand to my throat, and I immediately clench around his fingers, earning me a knowing smirk. His touch remains light, a reminder that he can stop me from breathing any damn time he likes, and that thought only seems to bring me closer to the edge.

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