Page 13 of Cruel Pawn
A brush of my palm over her side of the bed told me she’d been up a while, but I took my time stretching, climbing out of bed. We had the rest of our lives together; I could spare enough time to shower. Even if every step I took into the en-suite bathroom was a battle against my soul, which wanted to be moulded to Carmen’s side again. Or her front. Or her back. As long as I was close to her, as long as I had my arms around her and her sweet words in my ear, I wasn’t picky.
Not just sweet, though. She was a little wicked last night, I remembered as I stepped into the shower once it was hot, steam engulfing my body. This would be much more enjoyable with Carmen. I’d crowd her against the cool tiles and watch her shudder. I’d fix my mouth to that spot on her neck that reduced her to sighs and trembles and find the wet heat of her with my fingers, working her higher and higher until she came with a cry of my name.
Fuck, I needed to not think about this. My cock was as hard as diamond. I couldn’t wait to be inside her again, to watch those pretty brown eyes sharpen as she chased her pleasure. There was something delicious about pushing a woman as shy and quiet as Carmen to pull my hair, to hiss complaints and commands, to scream as she shattered for me. If you could get high from a power trip, I was fucking floating.
I showered in record time, dried in a rush, and didn’t bother to get dressed. I slung a towel around my waist and went in search of my girl, a trill of butterflies erupting in my stomach. I’d already been infatuated with her, but after last night—both the sex and the date, her letting me glimpse something beyond her shields—I was all in. I was in fucking love with this woman and ready to go to war if that’s what it took to keep her.
My mind raced as I followed the sound of clinking cups and cutlery. I pictured introducing her to my family, and knew they’d love her. Rae would fawn over her gorgeous, thick hair and makeup skills; Wyn would finally have another introvert in the family; Stefan and Cameo would obviously love her because she made me happy and they were my besties; Damien would do that thing where he’s charming and kind to his family but would threaten to eviscerate anyone who ever hurt Carmen; Vincent would stand off to the side assessing her with his judgy face, and eventually realise she was completely perfect for me and would only make the family better; and Kavan, the man who wasbasically my father, would welcome her with open arms because he was a big, cuddly grizzly bear.
I knew I was getting carried away, but I didn’t care. Carmen was the one. The most perfect, wonderful, captivating person I’d ever met, and I would never let her go.
I paused in the doorway to watch my future wife as she stood at the counter in front of the window, golden light washing over her as she made coffee. My heart skipped a little when I saw she’d made one for me. She loved me too, and there was the proof. It snuffed my initial disappointment when I saw she was already dressed, black exercise leggings clinging to her perfect thighs and ass, a matching vest sculpted to her back. I’d had visions of pressing her to the counter and sinking into her warm, slick pussy, and those visions were a lot easier with a sundress, or a sleep shirt, or—better yet—no clothes at all.
A pout pushed out my bottom lip as I watched her, my hands already tingling as I considered which I’d do first—pull down her tight pants so I could bury my cock inside her or lift up that black shirt so I could fill my hands with her tits. I couldn’t wait to feel her nipples come to life under my touch, to feel her squirm as I plucked at them. I wondered if I could make her come by nipple stimulation alone; she’d seemed pretty sensitive last night and—
I cocked my head to the side, a furrow pulling at my brows when she removed the top from a small vial of clear liquid, pouring it into one of the coffees that filled the kitchen with fragrant deliciousness. Was she on medication? Was my girl sick? I’d get her the best care, make sure she had appointments the day she needed them. My future wife would have everything she needed, and it wasn’t like I was short on money. I’d get Carmen the best doctors, and the best medication on the market. But an ache gripped my chest at the mere suggestion that she was suffering.
I couldn’t stand in the doorway any longer. I needed her wrapped up in me where I could keep her safe and happy and mine.
She inhaled sharply when I came closer, then turned to me with a smile that felt like sunshine bathing my whole body.
“Morning, pretty girl,” I greeted, just to watch the way her gaze dropped to the floor, a pleased flush moving across her cheeks.
“Morning,” she replied, all her bold demands and hissed orders left behind last night as she peered up at me, her voice like sugar and honey and cream. So sweet and addictive, I wanted to drown in it. “I made you coffee.”
I planned to very carefully ask about the medication I saw her add to her drink, already knew how I’d word my promises so she’d have no choice but to accept private healthcare and all the help my connections could provide, but my plans, my hopes, my dreams, my visions of our future—they all ground to a halt when she held out that mug to me. The one I’d seen her add a clear liquid to. The one I watched her drug.
She handed it tome.
I allowed myself a single blink as I processed that fact, as I considered what it meant, then I bundled up all my hurt, my spiky confusion, and pushed it to the back of my mind as I gave her a big smile. “You made coffee for me.”
“I hope it’s not too strong,” she said, biting the inside of her lip. That would have made my heart skip, but all it did was make my stomach drop now. She’d made me fall in love with her, and now she’d drugged me.
Although… what if she was as crazy about me as I was about her? What if she’d drugged me so I could never escape her? And I never would. She was my opera, my future wife, all fuckingmine.Whether she’d drugged me or not, she was mine. All I’d change was how I would handle her—with kid gloves or roughhands wrapped in the type of gloves falconry people wore when they dealt with massive birds of prey. Was that what my Carmen was? A bird of prey? A pretty face that delivered poison?
I raised the mug to my face and inhaled rich, dark coffee. No scent. Hmm.
“I’m sure it’ll be perfect, because it’s you who made it for me, my opera,” I said, and took a sip, rolling the liquid around my mouth. It tasted as it smelled—dark and full-bodied, strong enough to cover up any aftertaste that drug might have left.
“You’re not drinking,” I pointed out, not hiding my smile as she rolled her eyes at herself and took a big gulp. Yep, mine was definitely the drugged one. I slid a step closer, stroking my hand along her waist, the burn of her skin through the thin fabric making my heartbeat deepen. She’d drugged me, which meant all the checks I imposed on myself, all the ways I held myself back, the dark side I kept concealed… well, all my demons could come out to play.
I took another small drink of laced coffee and held her eyes as I swallowed, and I didn’t think the pretty blush that stained her cheeks was entirely fake. She wanted me as badly as I wanted her. And she would get me.
I took another drink and set the mug down, not particularly worried about the effects it would have on my body. Part of being a Marshall was knowing I was exposed to enemies and violence and torture. I’d trained my body to build up an immunity to certain drugs over a period of years, and I was betting this was GHB since it was colourless, had no smell, and its taste could be hidden by strong coffee. It would take effect in twenty or so minutes. Plenty long enough for me to feel my girl’s pussy squeeze the life out of my cock as she came.
Her mouth popped open when I gripped the waistband of her leggings and dragged them down her body, though she did lift her feet for me to free her of the fabric. It was the work ofseconds to rip off my towel, lift her onto the table in the middle of the kitchen and sink all the way inside her.
Her cry was bright and so loud it repeated in my ears, an unholy chorus I wanted to hear over and over. I didn’t take it slow or give her a chance to adjust to being full of my cock; my girl had drugged me, so I set a punishing pace.
“Oh,” she gasped, flinging her arms around my shoulders and holding tight as I pounded into her, so soft and wet for me even as shedrugged me.“Oh, god.”
“Not a god, my pretty poison,” I disagreed, my grip on her hips bruising, our bodies crashing together so hard the sound of impact filled her home. “Just your future husband. And don’t think you can escape me. I’ll have my ring on that finger no matter how many times you try to run away, no matter how many times you spike my coffee.”
“What—” Her amber eyes were comically wide, her plush mouth parted. She was like a perfect, beautiful doll. Guileless and disarming. I dug my fingers harder into her hips and slammed into her cunt over and over, until her muscles quivered and sucked around me and I knew she was close. “Arden.”
“That’s it, my opera,” I said with a sharp rush of satisfaction. “Come for me. Come, and know there’s no escaping me. Not even a drug could keep me from filling this sweet pussy with my cum. Not even death could keep me from watching your eyes roll back just like that.” I dragged my lips up her jaw and caught her bottom lip with my teeth, biting until I drew blood, punishing her for her betrayal.
“Arden, I—” she began breathily, trembling against me, her arms heavy where they rested on my shoulders.
