Page 53 of City of Secrets and Shadows
“I was good to you earlier. Now I think it’s time you repaid the favour.” His grip tightened, forcing me down slowly onto my knees in front of him. I knelt before him, the cold floor biting into my skin, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through my veins. His hand remained on my throat, thumb tracing my jawline with deceptive gentleness.
“Open,” he commanded.
Pride warred with desire as I looked up at him, defiance flickering in my eyes. I pressed my lips together in defiance, earning a dark chuckle from above.
“Still fighting?” His grip tightened slightly. “We both know how this ends, Livia. The only question is how much you make yourself suffer before giving in.”
He was right, and I hated him for it. Hated how well he knew me, how easily he could read my desires. I glared up at him, lips parting just enough for his thumb to press inside. I bit down — not hard enough to hurt, just enough to remind him I wasn’t completely conquered.
He laughed. “There she is. I’d be disappointed if you made it easy.”
His hand guided my head forward, the blunt head of his cock replacing his thumb, pressing insistently against my lips. I could taste the salt of him already, feel the heat radiating from his skin.
“Take me in your mouth,” he ordered, “or I’ll bend you over right now and take what I want without making you come first.”
The threat — the promise — sent a shameful thrill through me. I parted my lips, letting him push inside, filling my mouth with his thickness. His groan of satisfaction made my inner walls clench with need.
I wanted to bite him, to hurt him, to make him feel a fraction of the turmoil he caused within me. Instead, I took him deeper.
His fingers tangled in my hair, controlling my movements as he thrust deeper, testing the limits of how much I could take. I gripped his thighs, nails digging into the hard muscle as he hit the back of my throat. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to yield.
“Gods, your mouth,” Septimus growled, his voice strained. “Made for taking cock.”
I glared up at him, trying to maintain some semblance of defiance even as I worked my tongue along his length. His eyes darkened at my look, and he pulled back suddenly, his cock slipping from my lips with an obscene sound.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
When I didn’t move quickly enough, his hands were under my arms, hauling me to my feet. In one fluid motion, he spun me around, pressing my chest against the cold wall. His body covered mine from behind, his breath hot against my ear.
“I’ve thought about this all day,” he whispered, his voice a dangerous rumble. “Bending you over, making you scream. Watching you try to pretend you don’t want it even as you beg for more.”
His hand slid down my spine, over the curve of my arse, between my thighs. I bit my lip to stifle a moan as his fingers found me slick and ready.
“So wet,” he taunted. “Is this what hating me does to you, Livia?”
“Shut up,” I hissed, pushing back against his hand despite myself.
His laugh was dark against my ear. “Make me.”
I could feel the hard length of him pressed against my back, hot and insistent. His fingers circled my entrance, teasing but never quite giving me what I needed. The frustration built within me, a coiling tension that demanded release.
“Septimus,” I growled, half warning, half plea.
“Yes?” His voice was maddening in its calm, as though he had all the time in the world to torment me. “Something you want?”
His fingers slipped inside me, two at once, the sudden fullness making me gasp. My hips bucked against his hand, seeking more, but he withdrew almost immediately, leaving me empty and aching.
“Bastard,” I spat.
His teeth grazed my shoulder, hard enough to mark. “Say please.”
“Never.”
His hand cracked across my arse, the sudden sting making me cry out. Heat bloomed where he’d struck, radiating outward in waves of shameful pleasure.
“Say. Please.” Each word was punctuated by another sharp slap, until my skin burned and my legs trembled.
“Please,” I finally whispered, the word torn from my throat.
