Page 56 of Soul Of A Villain

Before he could stop himself, he was pushing into her, the way eased by the cum he’d left behind before. His cock glided, a bit rough at first, but arousal gathered inside her pussy the longer he moved his body over her unconscious one. Gentle kisses were pressed to her mouth, his lips worshipping her breasts and the sweet nipples that pebbled so enticingly when his teeth nibbled on them. It was wrong to make love to her when she could neither consent nor struggle, but Oliver was beyond that now. He would do everything for Londyn. He’d take care of her. Ensure her safety. Give her so many orgasms that she would be weak for days.

Oliver’s groans were uncontainable as Londyn unknowingly accepted his adoration. His obsession. His madness. He was crazy for her, and he would make her crazy for him in return. When he finally climaxed with a grunt of satisfaction, he withdrew from her and pushed a finger deep inside her to keep his cum from leaking out. And with a sigh of acknowledgment for how insane this all was, he wished his little captive was not on birth control. He wanted to watch her belly swell with his child. Wanted to see her eyes soften with affection when he caressed her. He wanted… no, heneededsomething which would permanently tie them together. Something other than his unhinged obsession and her burgeoning desire for his dominance and her own submission.

He rolled off her after a few moments, covering her body with the silk duvet so she wouldn’t become chilled. She snuggled into the covers, blissfully unaware he’d fucked her as he got out of the bed to fire up the tattoo gun a second time. Then, he dragged the freestanding mirror out of the walk-in closet and positioned it at the foot of the bed. Sitting on the leather bench that spanned the width of the bed, Oliver considered his bare chest, rubbing a hand over its expanse until he traced the tattoo emblazoned across his pelvis.

There was only one logical spot for the tattoo he planned, and he smiled as the idea of what he wanted came to life. With careful, methodical movements, he began etching over his heart. He worked for a long time, paying close attention to the delicate shading of the feathers and the gentle curve of the bird’s breast. With infinite patience, he was able to match the soft gray of Londyn’s eyes.

When it was done, Oliver sat back, wiped the blood and excess ink away from his skin, and smiled at his reflection.

Now, no matter what happened, he would always have a reminder of her. A dove captured in midflight, a diamond-studded collar encircling its delicate neck, and a chain that dangled free but entwined around Oliver’s own heart. That was his Londyn. His captured dove. An innocent to his villain.

And in the very near future… his wife.

ChapterThirty-Two

Londyn

A low hum woke her.It was a persistent rumble that infiltrated her consciousness. For a moment, Londyn thought it was simply a noise embedded in her head. However, it permeated the environment. The sound was consistent, steady, and did not deviate.

Cracking one eye open, she peered at her surroundings. She was in a reclining seat of buttery soft leather. It was so cushioned that it felt as though she were lying on a pillow made of clouds. There was hardly any illumination in the space, just a blue glow that shimmered in the darkness as her eyesight slowly adjusted. Her mouth was as dry as sandpaper, her throat parched. And her head ached a little. Was she dreaming? Or awake? Confusion furrowed her brow, and she lifted a hand, intent on massaging her pounding temples.

“Wake up now, Londyn.”

She turned toward Oliver, a relieved smile tilting her lips at his calm voice. A sense of safety washed over her as she reached for his hand, seeking the comfort of having him close. Oliver was always so warm despite the frozen heart he sheltered from the world. She drowsily wondered if he would ever let her or anyone else inside.

Oliver took her hand, kissing it and holding it against the hard line of his jaw. The stubble that shadowed his skin sent slow, unwelcome pinpricks of alarm shivering through her body. She frowned, a buried sense of self-preservation reminding her of the danger this man presented. She tried sitting up only to discover she couldn’t. Seated beside her, Oliver’s smile was oddly reassuring despite confirming that she was restrained.

“Shhhh, you’re okay, dove.” Oliver’s hand covered hers, holding it and pinning it to the armrest. “I’ve strapped you into your seat as a precaution. The pilot says we’ll be hitting a bit of turbulence in a few moments.”

Resisting the urge to pull away, Londyn stared at his sinfully handsome face before croaking, “We-we’re in the air?”

When had he placed her on this plane? How?

Straining to remember the last moments she was conscious and aware made her head pound even harder. She couldn’t remember anything. She didn’t recognize the clothes she wore. The cream-colored Chanel sheath dress ended above her knees and dipped so low in the back that she felt the coolness of the seat’s leather against her skin. Her feet and legs were bare, a pair of delicate high-heeled pumps sitting in a heap on the floor in front of her. Her pulse beat rapidly, realizing it was likely that Oliver had been the one to dress her.

“Yes. Winter Enterprises’s private jet. Well, one of them. Would you like a sip of water?” Raising an eyebrow, Oliver tipped a water bottle toward her, silently asking if she wanted it or not.

Without thinking twice, Londyn grabbed it and twisted the cap. She drank half of it before something caught her attention. A huge diamond ring glittered on the third finger of her left hand.

She froze, staring at the piece of jewelry, confused.

“No. No, no,no.” The words trailed off in a moan of despair, her gaze snapping to his. “What-what does this mean?”

“It means we are on our honeymoon, dove,” was his sardonic reply. “I hope you like the ring. Harry Winston’s was kind enough to open their Las Vegas showroom after hours for me. When the manager pulled this from their private collection, I knew it was perfect for you. You were a bit… incapacitated… at the time, so I gambled and selected this for you. It’s one of a kind. Quite spectacular and very rare. A blue diamond, cut from one of the most famous diamonds before it was donated to the Smithsonian.” He smirked at her. “No one is supposed to know about that, so keep it confidential, will you? It is a closely guarded secret, after all.”

“We’re not married,” Londyn breathed, barely listening to his explanation for why she was wearing this ring. She felt faint. She thought she might throw up. This couldnotbe happening.How did this happen? He would never marry her. He had made his thoughts on marriage painfully clear. “We cannot be married.”

“We most certainly are,” Oliver countered almost cheerfully, waving his left hand at her so she could see the beautifully simple platinum band on his own finger.

“You’re lying. You are lying to me. This isn’t real.”

“Oh, Londyn,” he tsked in mock disappointment. “I may withhold information and sometimes even keep the truth from you, but I willneverlie to you.”

The cushion cut, blue stone nestled in a halo of sparkling white diamonds was enormous on her finger. A thin band of matching flawless diamonds completed the set. The stone itself had to be at least five carats. She couldn’t stop staring at it, and her stomach swooped in horror when Oliver laid a heavy hand on her knee, steadying her while taking the forgotten water bottle from her nerveless fingers. Had she been standing, she would have fallen to her knees. Her entire world was tilting and spinning.

“There’s that turbulence...” Oliver murmured, and Londyn abruptly realized her dizziness was the jet reacting to the unstable atmosphere, not her surprise marriage.

“I would never agree to this. I would not have said yes...”

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