Page 197 of Seizing Control: Part One

The light and the dark.

“Don’t hide your tears from me, duchess,” Slash whispers in my ear. His lips brush over the top of my head, and he lifts his hand to collar my throat. “I’m here. I’ll hold you tight while you break.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

I draw in a deep breath a second before his fingers start to constrict my breathing. My husband nudges my legs apart with his knee. His cock notches against my pussy, the piercing at the head adding a bite of pain to his slow intrusion. Slash pushes inside me from behind with agonising slowness. All the while, he holds my life in his hand.

One final pump of his hips pushes his cock fully inside my body.

A claiming.

Freedom.

My sobs are silent. The tears that fall morph into a stream. The big man fucks me slow with his own vulnerability on display. I can hear his whispered benedictions. His declarations of love. The promises that he’ll make everything all right.

It’s all lies.

Without Zeke, we are incomplete.

The sorrow in my heart will never let me forget that.

The crack in my soul won’t let me move on.

“Come for me, baby. Shatter around my dick while you cry for another man.”

I shake my head and bite down on the inside of my cheek, tasting blood, as I work to stop my orgasm from peaking. It doesn’t help, the iron tang reminds me of Venom’s brutality. I’m a ball of lust, a mess of grief. Spiralling out of control while I search for the best way to protect Slash from my dualling desires.

“Don’t deny me, duchess.” My husband’s kind tone is a stark contrast to his harsh demand. “Break my heart like I’ve broken yours. Scream his name, even when it’s my cock that’s pleasing you.”

Each undulation of his hips edges me toward the abyss.

When I break the skin of my lip with my teeth, I detect salt as well as iron.

“That’s it,” Slash croons when the first spasms of my inner walls ripple around his hard length. “Give me your ecstasy, wife... drown me in your pain.”

“Please...” I beg in a strangled moan.

“Say it, baby.”

His thrusts pick up pace.

His hips slam into my arse while he claims me hard from behind.

His grip on my throat loosens as he allows me to breathe freely for a moment.

“You’ll hate me,” I whimper just as I crest the pinnacle.

Release is a heartbeat away.

“Never,” my husband vows.

Every intention I have to ward off my climax is destroyed by the big man’s talented fingers. He thrums my clit, torturing me with figure eights and stinging slaps, playing my body like a well-tuned piano. I’m bucking against him, fighting for relief, caught in a nightmare and a dream. Slash torments me physically at the same time as he protects me mentally.

“Say it, baby.”

“Carter...”

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