Page 58 of Soul Of A Villain

Londyn woodenly obeyed, feeling something tugging at the skin on her spine as she did so. She’d not noticed it before. Had she been injured somehow? Whatever was there did not hurt, not really. It was more of a twinge of awareness, a dull ache localized in one spot.

Oliver dragged the dress over her head, laying it gently across a chair before turning her to face the bed.

“Bend over, wife. I want your hands flat on the bed.”

“What did you do to me, Oliver?” Her voice was a shaky whisper while he exerted pressure between her shoulder blades, forcing compliance. Why the word “wife” sent pleasurable shockwaves throughout her body was surely one of the Devil’s cruelest tricks.

“I marked what is mine so there will be no doubt who you belong to.”

“The ring wasn’t enough? Forcing me to marry you wasn’t enough?”

Oliver laughed softly. “Sadly, no. I need a more visceral sign to satisfy me. Something I can trace with my tongue before I fuck you.”

A shameful shudder of lust melted Londyn upon hearing his blunt words. She nearly collapsed on the bed from the force of it, but gritting her teeth, she remained in the position he wanted, shaking as he examined her back while lightly prodding what must have been a bandage of some sort.

“Did you carve your name into my skin, Oliver? Or did you mark your property with a branding iron?”

His fingers gently touched her, stroking her skin. “Just a simple tattoo, dove. My personal motto along your beautiful spine. And you can be sure I will follow it when it comes to you.”

“I don’t understand,” she confessed softly.

“Bleed for me, dove. You will bleed for me. And I will give my last drop of blood for you.” His tongue swirled around the edges of the bandage, reminding her of his words moments before. “Now, I’m going to fuck my wife for the first time, and you will let me, won’t you, sweet girl?”

Londyn thought of resisting. She thought of fighting back. But it was impossible when her pussy clenched with need, her flesh wet and aching. She heard the muted jingle of his belt, the unmistakable sound of a zipper lowering, and then he was surging inside her, driving deep until she hissed from the sting. When she fell forward onto her elbows, her body softening for him, he laughed softly and pulled her hips up higher to accommodate his thrusting.

She wanted to both scream with exultation and sob with surrender as her body welcomed him. She was coming within seconds from the angle and the way his pierced cock hit that special spot deep inside her. Gripping the duvet, she trembled, knowing this wasexactlywhere she wanted to be. Pinned beneath him, at his mercy and helpless to resist.

“My sweet, innocent wife likes it rough, doesn’t she?” Oliver lightly slapped one butt cheek, erasing the sting with a soothing massage of his palm while pumping into her willing body. “Now, come again for me,wife. I want to hear you screaming my name. I want you screaming, ‘yes, husband,’ before this jet lands.”

“Oliver,” Londyn moaned, her body swaying back and forth with his thrusts. She wasn’t sure why she said his name. He would continue taking what he wanted, and she would welcome it despite the war between her mind and her traitorous body. “God, don’t stop...”

All motion stopped. Only the sounds of their breathing filled the cabin. With agonizing slowness, Oliver withdrew from her body. Londyn did not move, unsure and admittedly a little frightened by the unexpected action. Her ears picked up the rustling of his clothing, the thump of a shoe hitting the soft carpet, a muffled curse, and the sound of something ripping.

What was he about to do next? Bind her? Gag her? Fuck her harder and without mercy? Her body flared up in flames at the thought. She wanted all those things and more.

“Oliver?” His name was a shaky whisper on her lips.

“I’m right here, dove. I’m not going anywhere.”

ChapterThirty-Three

Oliver

He flippedher onto her back, moving her up on the bed at the same time until the pillows were beneath her head. With the movement, her arms automatically wrapped around his neck, holding onto him as he settled back between her thighs. His body was now as bare as hers and while her brow furrowed with puzzlement, she did not resist him. Then her gaze drifted to the fresh tattoo inked over his heart, and her beautiful gray eyes widened. Her arms dropped from his neck, crossing instead over her bare breasts.

“Oliver… what have you done?”

“I placed you where you belong.”

Her chin trembled; her plump pink lips moistened by the tip of her tongue nervously swiping them. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It makesperfectsense. You’ve been there since the moment I laid eyes on you. Somehow, you wiggled your way inside this darkness; I don’t want to lose that light.” His jaw clenched with the confession. He hadn’t meant to reveal that; it gave away too much of his power and exposed him to her hatred. To disdain. After all, who could truly love the villain in the fairy tale? When Londyn’s eyes softened and glistened with unshed tears, Oliver shuddered with the enormity of what he’d said aloud. “I want you… I want you to look at me like you did in the limo when you climbed into my lap and took what you wanted. I want you to look at me as if you love me.”

Londyn let out a little sob. “I don’t know anything about you, Oliver, and you know nothing about me. I don’t know what your favorite food is. What your favorite color is. Your favorite song or book. We don’t?—”

“Gray,” Oliver interrupted, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb and staring into her eyes. “That’s my favorite color. Dove gray, to be precise. Those other things will come in time. Londyn, my sweet, little dove, don’t you know what has happened? I am fuckingconsumedby you. You occupy my every thought, my dreams. Even my fucking nightmares. Since the night I first you, you’ve possessed me.”

“Oliver…”

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