Page 52 of City of Secrets and Shadows
His smile was slow, predatory, knowing. “Not my most prominent feature, and you know it. This time, there will be no interruptions. This time, I will finish what I started.”
“You presume too much,” I said, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me.
Septimus’s hand shot out, gripping my chin with enough force to make me gasp but not enough to hurt. “Do I?” His thumb brushed across my lower lip, testing its fullness. “Your body has always been honest, even when your mouth lies.”
I jerked my face away, standing abruptly. The stool scraped against the floor as I put distance between us, my back hitting the wall. “What happened earlier was a mistake.”
“Was it?” He advanced on me with unhurried steps. “A mistake you’ve been replaying in your mind? A mistake that has your pulse racing right now?” He stopped mere inches from me. “A mistake you want me to make again?”
“I hate you,” I whispered, the words lacking conviction even to my own ears.
His laugh was dark, rich with promise. “Hate me all you want, Livia. Just do it while I’m inside you.”
The crudeness of his words should have repulsed me. Instead, heat pooled between my thighs, my body betraying me as it always did with him.
His hand moved to my throat, not squeezing, just resting there — a reminder of his power, his control. My breath caught, and I hated my body’s betrayal, the way it responded to his touch despite everything that had passed between us.
“Tell me to leave,” he challenged, his thumb stroking the pulse point beneath my jaw. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll go.”
The words stuck in my throat. I could lie to him — I had lied to far more dangerous men than Septimus — but somehow this deception felt beyond me. Instead, I remained silent, my eyes locked with his in silent defiance.
His smile widened, victory already gleaming in his eyes. “As I thought.”
In one fluid movement, he pulled me to my feet. His hands found my wrists, pinning them behind my back as his mouth descended on mine — not gentle, not asking, but taking. Claiming. His kiss was brutal, demanding, stealing the breath from my lungs and the resistance from my limbs. I struggled against him, but it was token resistance at best, and we both knew it.
When he finally released my mouth and my wrists, I was gasping, my lips swollen and tender.
“Fight me all you want,” he murmured against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “We both know how this ends.”
“I hate you,” I whispered again, the words lacking conviction even to my own ears.
He laughed, the sound dark and rich.
“Hate me harder,” he growled, teeth grazing my earlobe as his free hand slid from my throat to my shoulder. “It makes it better when you break.”
His hand found the clasp at my shoulder, fingers working it open with practiced ease. The expensive fabric, baring one breast and he bent down, taking my nipple in his mouth. I gasped as his teeth grazed my sensitive flesh, my body arching involuntarily into his touch. The stola slipped further, the expensive fabric pooling at my waist as Septimus’s hands worked with brutal efficiency to remove it.
His mouth trailed fire along my collarbone, up my neck, teeth scraping against my pulse point while his hands finished their work on my clothing. The stola fell completely now, leaving me bare before him, and he pulled back to observe his handiwork.
“Look at you,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “Pretending you don’t want this, when your body is begging for me.”
“I never said I didn’t want it,” I shot back, finding a sliver of defiance. “I said I hate you.”
His smile was wicked, eyes glinting in the dim light. “Good. The feeling’s mutual.”
In one swift motion, he lifted me against the wall, his strength effortless as my feet left the ground. I gasped, instinctively wrapping my legs around his waist, feeling the hard ridge of his arousal through his clothing.
“Look how eager you are,” he murmured, one hand sliding between us to stroke between my thighs. His fingers found me slick and ready, drawing a satisfied growl from his throat. “Already so wet. Your body doesn’t hate me, Livia. Your body remembers exactly what I can give it.”
“Fuck you,” I hissed, even as my hips betrayed me, rocking against his hand. “Just because my body responds doesn’t mean—”
“Doesn’t mean what?” His fingers slipped inside me, curling in a way that made my words dissolve into a gasp. “That you’re dripping for me? That you’ve been thinking about this since I left you aching earlier?”
“Bastard,” I hissed, even as my hips rocked against his hand.
“Such language from a noble lady.” His teeth grazed my neck, biting down just hard enough to make me cry out.
His fingers withdrew suddenly, leaving me empty and aching. I bit back a whimper of protest as Septimus stepped back just enough to unfasten his own clothing. The loss of his body heat was momentary, but it felt like an eternity as I watched him free himself, his cock standing proud and thick between us. He wrapped his hand around my throat, pinning me against the wall, his other hand moving up and down his shaft. His eyes never left mine as he stroked himself, a display of raw dominance that made my mouth go dry. The pressure of his hand against my throat wasn't painful, but it was a constantreminder of his control — of how easily he could take what he wanted.
