Page 49 of Between Dusk and Dawn

"I despise you." I let go of the towel, watching as it puddled to the floor before I dragged my gaze back up.

When I did, it was as if I’d locked eyes with a hungry predator and had become his desperate prey.

He took another step closer, and I’d never felt so vulnerable and raw in front of a person. It’s like I’d shaved every single layer and for the first time in my entire life, I was…Madison Ryan.

My eyes watered as I realized how much this man had a pull on me. I had spent an entire year trying to get back at him, whichsounded insane then, but it all made sense now. Because how Walsh Solis made me feel so…real was the reason I’d do it all over again if I had to.

"You're a goddess," he murmured, his chest pressed against mine with a certain intimacy. A soft chuckle escaped me while his hands hovered over my hips, not making contact but seemingly mapping out the curves and contours of my body.

"I don't think the heavens would approve of me, so maybe not necessarily a goddess. I think I probably belong in hell for everything that I've done," I croaked out. The very tips of his fingers finally made contact with my arms, delicately drawing their way up toward my face. His touch was such a paradox to him as a person: gentle, soft, and almost smooth, whereas he was cold and stoic.

"I'll find you in the flames, Muse," he declared. As his hands approached my lips, he withdrew. His eyes momentarily closed, and the next sensation was the pulsating warmth of his arousal against my stomach.

"Kneel," he commanded, reverting to his icy demeanor. The mask was firmly in place, and escape seemed an impossible feat.

My pause lingered too long before I heard his command again. "Get on your fucking knees."

I swallowed. "I hate you," I spat out.

Liar.This was our game. I was wet with need, and he was desperate for the chase.

He gripped my cheeks, staring at me. "You can hate me all you want,wife.But your body is telling me otherwise."

While his right hand remained on my cheek, his free hand parted my thighs, dragging a finger over my cunt. I was soaked and hungry for him.

"You are so wet, Muse. You are so fucking wet for me. Does all of this hate turn you on?"

I nodded.

"Good," he growled. "Get. On. Your. Knees."

When he let go, I stumbled forward, dropping to the cold wooden floor.

Forced to look at him towering over me, I could see every ripple in his stomach. Every tattoo was visible, and I desperately tried to memorize them. He was my king, and as he glared at me, time froze.

I was at his mercy—at his very beck and call. I was his.

I would always be his.

When he spoke, his voice was low, desperate, and needy. "What do you see, Madison?"

My eyelashes fluttered, and his cock came into clear view.

But that wasn’t his question. He wanted to know what I saw beneath the surface.

"I see you. I see your tattoos. I see your eyes. I see your heart."

The last word hung in the air. It was a confession I didn’t mean to say aloud, but I was caught up in the moment.

A slow twist on the corners of his lips was the only tell that he was satisfied with my answer before he rolled his head back and emitted a growl so deep and terrifying it sounded almost animalistic—a predator readying for his prey.

I opened my mouth as if my body knew exactly what he needed—what I needed. His hands grazed over his shaft, pumping it a few times to let the precum bead at the top. His mushroom head was desperate for the warmth of my mouth, and I was more than eager to please him. All I’d wanted to do over these last few years was taste him, touch him, and fuck him.

"Good girl," he moaned as the head of his dick touched my swollen lips. "Open wide."

I released all the tension in my jaw as he slid in. He stretched every muscle. I’d forgotten how girthy he was.

As the tip of his cock touched the back of my throat, a low groan reverberated throughout the room. His hands wrapped around my ponytail, and he shoved me onto him. I flicked my tongue around him as he thrust in, letting my mouth pump him dry.

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