When it was over, when I finally collapsed back onto the mattress, I could barely muster the energy to turn my head and look at him. He was still standing, still gripping the foot board like it was the only thing holding him up, his expression carved in lines of desperate hunger.
"Holy shit," I croaked, my throat raw from screaming. "That was..."
"The hottest fucking thing I've ever seen," he finished, his eyes glued to my core. "Christ, Cara, the way you fucking moved, the sounds you made... I'm harder than I've ever been in my goddamn life."
I smiled, slow and wicked. "Then why don't you come over here and put that hard cock to good use?"
He shook his head, even as his hands twitched at his sides, aching to touch. "You're killing me, you know that? My balls are so blue they're about to fall off and crawl away."
"Good," I said petulantly. "Serves you right for getting me all worked up and leaving me hanging."
"Oh, I'm not leaving you hanging, sweetheart." He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the bed as he crawled towards me with predatory intent. "I believe I made you a promise about this pussy. And I always keep my promises."
My breath hitched, my oversensitized clit throbbing in anticipation. "What are you...?"
"I'm going to eat you." It was a vow, a threat. "Going to lick this pretty cunt until you can't take anymore, until you're shaking and sobbing and dry as a fucking bone. And then I'm going to keep going, because I fucking can, because you're mine and I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."
My eyes rolled back in my head, a broken moan escaping my slack mouth. "Finn, fuck..."
"That's the plan, sweet girl." He grinned at me, sharp and feral. "Just as soon as you beg me for it."
Then he buried his face between my thighs, and I didn't do anything but beg for a long, long time.
Chapter 8: Finn
Iwas in hell. A special, tailor-made hell designed specifically to torture me. And the devil in charge of it all was a five-foot-nothing redhead with a filthy mouth and the tightest pussy I'd ever had the privilege of tasting.
It had been two days since I'd watched Cara finger herself to orgasm, two days since I'd had my face buried between her thighs, lapping at her cunt like a man starved. Two days of pure, unadulterated torture, because now that I knew what she tasted like, what she sounded like when she came apart on my tongue, I couldn't think about anything else.
I wanted her. Wanted her with a desperation that bordered on obsession. And the worst part? She knew it. Knew exactly what she did to me, how easily she could break my resolve with a look, a touch, a whispered plea. And she used that knowledge like a weapon.
Fuck.
If Declan ever found out the things I'd done to his little girl. The things I wanted to do, over and over again until she was ruined for any other man. He'd put a bullet between my eyes without a second thought and I wouldn't even blame him. Because what father wanted a thug like me sniffing around his virgin daughter?
Then I got the message Declan wanted to see me and Cara in his office.
Fuck. I knew it couldn't be good. The boss never called me in for a friendly chat, especially not when he requested Cara's presence as well. But I wasn't prepared for the bombshell he dropped on us. On Cara. Wasn't prepared for the way my entire world shattered with a few simple words.
"You're to be married, Cara. To the eldest Sokolov son. The deal has already been struck."
I stared at Declan in mute horror, my brain struggling to process what I'd just heard. Married? To a fucking Sokolov? The same Sokolovs who were known for their brutality, their utter disregard for human life? And he wanted to give Cara to them? His only daughter, his precious fucking princess?
I looked over at Cara, expecting to see my own shock and revulsion mirrored on her face. But she just sat there, still and silent, her eyes wide and glassy. She’s checked out of her own body, retreating somewhere deep inside herself where no one could touch her. All her life she knew she was a bargaining chip. All females were in this world, but it didn’t make it easier for her.
I wanted to reach for her. Wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her it would be okay, that I wouldn't let this happen. But I couldn't. Not with her father watching me, his eyes cold and assessing.
"This is a great honor, Cara," Declan said, his voice gruff and unyielding. "The Sokolovs are a powerful family, and an alliance with them will strengthen our business interests immeasurably. The war between us will cease. You should be grateful for the opportunity."
Grateful? I wanted to laugh. Wanted to fucking scream. There was nothing to be grateful for in this nightmare scenario, nothing to celebrate in the idea of Cara being sold off to some sadistic Russian fuck.
But I kept my mouth shut. Kept my face blank and impassive, even as my insides twisted with rage and despair.
It was Cara who broke the silence, her voice small and distant. "When?"
Declan shifted in his seat, looking almost uncomfortable. "Two weeks from now. The Sokolovs want to move quickly, to cement the alliance as soon as possible."
Two weeks. Two fucking weeks before Cara was expected to walk down the aisle and pledge herself to a man who would break her, ruin her, destroy everything that made her so vibrantly, beautifully alive. I felt sick. Felt like I was going to fucking vomit all over Declan's expensive Turkish rug. But I swallowed it back, my hands clenching into fists at my sides until my nails bit into my palms.