Page 99 of Promise of Destruction
Declan
Sorensquirmsagainstme,but I know she’s not actually trying to escape. She’s putting up the fight that she feels she needs to give me. I don’t know if it makes her feel better about fucking another man to try and deny me what she so obviously wants, or if it’s that she just likes the fight. Or maybe it’s the control.
That is a problem. Her need for control is excessive; it interferes with her basic needs, gets in the way of her survival instincts. Soren isn’t dumb, but she’s stubborn enough to do stupid things for the sake of not giving up her control. And that simply won’t do.
I slap her ass when she tries to wiggle out of my grasp as I fish from my pocket the set of keys Dimitri gave me. The guest house isn’t all that Remy Boudreaux offered me access to. When I took the phone, he thanked me for my help, as if I had a whole lot of choice in the matter. But I could hear in the strain of his vocal cords as he asked me to stay long enough for him to get them that he really cares about the girls he’s trying to save.
I didn’t grow up with any siblings, but I’d have given anything to keep my mother alive for longer. Ididgive everything to try. I even hoped the devil would show up outside a train station and offer me whatever I wanted for the small price of my soul.
I didn’t meet the devil, but Jonathan Boudreaux was as bad as and I sold my soul to him anyway. I just didn’t get what I wanted out of it.
Remy offered me a healthy sum of cash, free reign of his home and property and everything in it, and the keys to the car and boat in case we needed to get out. He didn’t have to say what we may have to evacuate from—whoever restricted my access to my own software is no more a friend to me than him. Less, probably.
“Put me down.” Soren yells the moment I wiggle the key loose from the lock and push the door open.
I tighten my grip on the back of her thighs, kicking the door shut and flipping the light on. I don’t know the layout of the house, but I head for the back of it. I’d settle for the couch—she’d look so pretty with her tits bouncing over an armrest—but I need a bed.
The first door I open is a bathroom, so I turn to the next one and flip the light on to get a look at what the room has to offer. The bed looks comfortable enough, but the headboard is a bookshelf jammed with all sorts of books. That’s not going to cut it, so I turn and let myself into the next room.
“Let me down, Declan!” Soren growls, right on time. I’m happy to oblige, taking a few steps into the room and slinging her in the center of the mattress.
She’s already trying to scramble into a sitting position by the time I press myself over top of her, caging her against the mattress. Her intensity from five minutes ago is waning, uncertainty creeping in now that she’s no longer on the edge of glory. I guess she’s just remembered our circumstances and the fact that I am not her husband.
I’m so much better.
Pinned beneath me, her lips parted like she’s thinking of saying something, she’s utterly at my mercy. I know she wants what I can give her, but more than that, sheneedswhat I can give her. Freedom, pleasure, and vindication.
“You said my name,” I remind her, pressing my lips into the hollow of her throat, where my hands had been earlier.
“Because,” Soren gasps as I nip at her neck, “I was trying to get you to stop…”
I hook my fingers under the elastic of her pants and jerk them down without any resistance from her. I think she even lifts her hips to allow them to slip to her knees, which fall apart for me.
“You don’t look like you want me to stop.”
My fingers ghost over her hips and she drinks in a long breath that she seems afraid to let out, as if it will come out with my name on it again.
“We were… in the open…” She gasps as I push the shirt up over her stomach, deliberately letting my fingertips just barely brush over her creamy skin. I’m slow, deliberate, giving her time to marinate in this decision. I want her to understand the gravity of what is about to happen.
But for all her bluster, she doesn’t fight me when I slip the shirt over her shoulders and toss it to the floor, letting her pert breasts bounce free. She doesn’t realize I noticed when she took it off, taking it as just another sign of her surrender.
Her lips quiver, with need or fear or sadness, as I move my mouth to the soft pink of her nipple and take it into my mouth.
I don’t need to hold her down now—she’s giving me this. And therein lies the problem: she thinks she’s in control.
I’ll remedy that.
I’ve coaxed her nipple into a hard peak, and the other has followed on its own accord, eager for the same treatment. Myhand being free now allows me to reach between us and unfasten my belt. She doesn’t tense, lost in bliss, so damn easy to please.
A glance up at her as my mouth releases her puckered nipple shows me her eyes are closed, and in normal circumstances I’d tell her to open them. I want her to see who is doing this to her. I want her to see what she’s making me do. But her eyes being closed gives me an advantage I’m not ashamed to use.
Soren is patient; I’ll give her that. Or maybe it’s the stubborn streak in her, the need to defy. She doesn’t try to open her eyes until she feels the leather touch her skin, and by then I’m already cinching her wrists together and notching the belt, using the excess as a leash to yank her arms over her head.
“What are you doing?” She demands, her voice quaking. Now that she’s looking at me, I see tears rimming the lashes on her lower lids. How quickly she went from my needy slut to a frightened little bird.
“Are you scared?” I cock an eyebrow, waiting for a response that I don’t need. Of course she is scared. Her eyes are wild—my little wren trapped in a cage of her own design. The real prison is her fear. That keeps her from actually living, barely fueling basic self-preservation.
“I…” She sets her jaw in determination and shakes her head. “Don’t do this.”
