Page 103 of Promise of Destruction
“It’s okay,” he whispers, and I’m not sure whether it’s an attempt to stem my waterworks or if he’s excusing me for daring to speak my husband’s name in his presence. “I guess I’ll just have to try harder this time.”
My mouth falls open. Words fail me at the implication, but I don’t even get a chance to contemplate any of them, because he unfastens his pants and then lets them drop to the floor along with his boxers.
My stomach twists at the sight of him, awe and fear twining together in an intoxicating elixir.
One thing about being with one man for my entire life—I have no concept of size. I have no scale to measure the quality of a kiss, the ingenuity of their movements, the size of an erection.
All I know is that Declan is huge, he sets me on fire with a need that I don’t understand, and if he kisses anything like he works me for an orgasm, I can never again let his lips touch mine.
sixty-five
Declan
“Lookatyou,”Imurmur, running my eyes over her naked body. She’s splayed open for me, a beautiful disaster that exists only for me. “You don’t even know how to let yourselffeel.” I shake my head. “Pain, pleasure… you fight it all the same.”
“Declan,” she moans, “Please.”
I don’t know what she’s pleading for. I bet she doesn’t know either. She’s running on autopilot the way she has for the last year, and I need her to take the reigns again.
It’s time she stops fighting for control over useless things.
“Moaning for me isn’t enough, kitten.” I tell her, caressing the side of her face from the top of her brow to her delicate throat that I squeeze between my fingers. “I want to hear you scream my name. But until you do, I’ll settle for you choking it out around my dick.”
Soren’s lip trembles a moment as she considers my words, and then she sets her jaw in defiance. It’s cute… sopetulant.
I’d give this woman the fucking world, but she hasn’t figured that out yet. Once she learns to use it to her advantage, I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.
I swipe my thumb along her chin, just below her lips which are full and pouty and positively begging to be put to use.
“I’m curious,” I tell her, sweeping her hair over her shoulder with my other hand and wrapping it around my fist, using the leverage to bring her closer to me. “Have you always been this way?”
Her eyes ask the questions she’s too stubborn to let her mouth give life to. She knows I’ll take advantage the moment her mouth opens; she’s not wrong, though it’s not for the reason she thinks.
“Neurotic.” I tell her, dragging my fingertips down her throat. White lines form on her flesh, turning quickly to red scratches too light to give her pain, just enough to offer her a taste of pleasure.
I refuse to picture her with any other man. She was made for me. The time that it took for me to find her is a travesty I won’t give any thought to.
I should have had the foresight to seek her out sooner, the faith to believe that there would be someone out there for me who would be capable of making me feel things to my black soul. She’s accused me of killing her husband, and while I’m not responsible for his death, I wish I was. I’d kill a thousand men if they dared to stand between her and I.
“I know you had a life before you met me.” I tell her, watching the chords of her neck compress beneath my touch as she swallows her fear. Her nipples are still tight, telling me she’s not as unamused as she’s trying to appear. “But you exist for me now, Soren Palmer. When we’re together, no one else exists.”
I’m not applying any pressure to her windpipe, but I see when her breathing becomes heavy with the weight of my words.
She’s still crying, the tears falling silently as she fights to keep her mouth shut, her emotions in check. I like the way her tears glitter in the light, the way they make her eyes look alive with rage and pain. If the only way to get her to open up to me is tomake her angry, I’m in a good position. My very existence seems to do that.
My cock is too tight, aching with the need for her. I need a release, but I am a man of my word. I will not fuck her any way until she is ready to scream my name like a prayer for vengeance, calling her personal god to rain retribution over her. I can’t very well teach Soren to control herself if she makes me lose control of myself.
She tenses when my hands grip her hips, her smooth skin sliding under my palms as I fit her against me. I’m not typically a particular man—I enjoy women of every persuasion. And Soren is fucking perfect the way she is, but I can feel the sharpness of her bones as I trap her in my touch… harsh and unforgiving.
At least her bones shape a reflection of who she is inside. And it’s as divine as she is on the outside.
“You’re red.” I tell her, stroking a hand over her face, those pink lips that refuse to part for me. I stifle a chuckle as I tighten my grip on her, flipping her through the air so that her upper body twists, her arms crossing beneath her as I line myself up with her entrance.
I feel her stiffen, her breath catching in her throat as she feels my tip nudging into her. “I like you angry, Soren. It’s the only thing I know that’s real.”
My name slips through her teeth in warning, and though I can’t see her face, I can imagine the hatred burning for me. And yet I feel the way she rocks toward me in anticipation of my intrusion at the same time her arms go limp. She’s doing a bad job fighting the urge to relent to me because no matter what her brain is saying, her body was made for me. She only has to get out of the prison of her mind long enough to figure that out.
I press my lips into the crook of her neck, startling her with the tenderness of my kiss. It coaxes chill bumps to form under my touch; I like the way she tries to bite back a moan at thesensations flooding her, so I repeat the kiss at the top of her spine. Soren rocks back to meet me again before realizing what she’s doing and correcting it as quickly as it happens.
