Page 39 of Crown of Hate

He’s so close now, his lips a breath away from mine. “Don’t regret this, darling. I warned you.”

His mouth crashes down on mine in a bruising, possessive kiss.

I free my hands from his and wrap them around his neck. Then I kiss him back just as hard, moaning into his mouth as I’m cocooned by pleasure—part of me knowing that the only way I’ll survive this is if I match his ferocity.

“Such a naughty girl,” he heaves, his words swirling deep down my throat. “Do you need to be punished?”

As his tongue wrestles with mine, I feel myself getting lost in the intensity of the moment. My hands grip his shirt, pulling him closer, matching his raw passion. I want every part of him I can get. My nipples harden to painful points, and I have to grind them against his chest to find any relief.

“I’d rather be rewarded,” I sigh.

His hand cages my body, trailing fire down from the nape of my neck. He grunts, deepening our kiss. And then, without warning, he rips my nightgown apart.

“Here’s your reward.”

My tits bounce free, and goosebumps pebble my skin as the cool air hits me.

Breaking the kiss, Mikhail looks me in the eye, his gaze burning into me. “Tonight, you're mine, Alya. Mine to do with as I please.”

I struggle to catch my breath, heart thundering. “… What will you do with me?”

His smirk promises delicious sin. “Whatever I want.”

With that, he scoops me up. I gasp as he carries me over to a dark corner of the bar. I’m spread across the table, legs splayed wide. An offering. A sacrificial lamb to a dark god. Tohim.

“So fucking perfect,” he snarls, his eyes darkening as he looks me over, stopping between my legs. His thick, wet tongue flashes out across his swollen lips. “So fucking tempting.”

He takes my ankles in his hands. They feel like fragile porcelain wands beneath his immense strength as he stretches them out to the corners of the table, only stopping when I can feel the cool touch of the bar’s brass rails against my exposed skin.

“Mikhail—“ I flinch, but his thick forearms flex as he holds me in place.

“You aren’t to move,malyshka,” he says. “Understand?”

His voice is so commanding that I don’t even think, I only nod.

“Good girl. Now stay put.”

My back arches with need when he releases me from his grip. I watch as he unbuckles his belt, rips it off, then without hesitation, rips it in two.

I gasp in shock, but before I can flinch, I remember his orders. It takes all of my willpower, but I stay in place, a good offering.

“I’m going to fucking devour you,” Mikhail rumbles. Wrapping one piece of the ripped belt around my left ankle, he fastens it to the nearest brass rail. Then, with what’s left of his belt, he does the same thing with my other ankle until I can’t move, even if I wanted to.

The cool, hard metal presses against the balls of my ankles painfully, but before I can complain, Mikhail rips off the bottom of his shirt, revealing a tattooed wall of hard abs.

“Comfort first, princess,” he almost teases. Folding the pieces of cloth, he gently fits them under my restraints—pillows to protect me from the brass. “Pleasure second… until you’re ready. Then those rules are reversed.”

The pain vanishes. But that doesn’t mean I’m not hurting, dying for what comes next. Whatever it is, I need it. I need him.

As if reading my mind, he descends.

My body tenses in response. The ache between my legs intensifies. I inhale sharply as he circles my clit, teasing along my folds before plunging a finger inside.

“Mikhail—”

“Shhh. Not a sound yet.” He pushes the finger deeper, curling it all the way up until it feels like he’s playing with my soul. “When you call my name, I want you screaming it, begging for me.”

A second finger joins the first. I clench my teeth to stifle a moan.

---