Page 71 of Darkest Oblivion
“You keep begging,” he said, unbuckling his belt with unhurried precision. “But you show no remorse. No change. No shame for what you did.”
“Please,” I whispered, my pride shredded, desperation clawing at me. “Please, Dmitri—I’ll do anything you want. Anything. I swear I’ll never betray you again. Just don’t—don’t take me like this.” My voice cracked, tears soaking my cheeks, my body trembling in humiliating surrender.
For the first time, he stilled.
The belt dangled from his fist, his chest heaving as though my words struck something raw.
His eyes narrowed, burning. “You think your begging moves me?” he rasped. “No, Penelope. I will take you by force. I will ruin you until there is no piece of you left unscarred.”
Panic clawed up my throat, my chest rising and falling in frantic gasps. “No... please... I can’t—don’t—” My voice cracked, faltering, tears blurring my vision.
The words spilled in a jumble, stammered and broken, a pitiful prayer I hadn’t thought I’d ever speak aloud.
He crouched lower, his face hovering inches above my trembling thighs. His breath fanned across my exposed skin—warm, invasive, unbearable. My body jolted as though seared.
“You smell so sweet, milaya,” he murmured, voice rough silk.
His lips hovered, grazing the tender skin of my inner thigh without mercy. “As if you were made for one purpose—to be devoured by me.”
My body betrayed me.
Heat pulsed low in my belly, shameful and sharp.
My toes curled, my breath hitched, my thighs quivered against the cuffs. I hated it—I hated myself for it. “I don’t want this,” I sobbed, my voice breaking. “I don’t want you.”
Dmitri’s laugh was dark, dangerous, vibrating against my skin. His lips brushed higher, feather-light, intimate enough to brand me.
“Is that so, milaya?” His voice was a taunt. “Then why is your body begging while your mouth lies?”
He kissed my mons pubis, slow, torturous, leaving fire in his wake. My body arched against the restraints, my tears mixing with shame, fury, and a heat I couldn’t silence.
“You don’t want me,” he whispered against my trembling skin, “yet you’re this wet for me. Tell me, Penelope—” his eyes flicked up, “—who else can make you tremble like this? Who else can own you this completely?”
“I—” My throat seized, shame choking me. I shook my head violently, eyes squeezed shut. “It’s not—it doesn’t mean anything!” I twisted away, desperate to hide the heat pooling in my core, the betrayal of my own body from his piercing gaze.
His icy blue eyes locked onto mine, flames of possession and fury stripping me bare without a touch. “Look at me when you lie,” he hissed. “Every gasp, every shiver, every tremble... your body betrays you, Penelope. And I will make you admit it.”
“No!” The word broke on a sob, my body trembled beneath him, traitorous, wet, heat pulsing where I hated it most.
“Yes.” His voice dropped lower.
He pressed the flat of his tongue to the inside of my thigh, ripping a ragged gasp from my lips that I tried, and failed, to swallow.
His eyes locked on mine as he spoke against my skin. “Say it. Say your body craves me.”
I shook my head, thrashing, humiliation and terror warring with a dark, unwanted pulse of pleasure. “I don’t—I don’t want you!”
His laugh was cruel, vibrating against me until my breath stuttered.
His fingers slid between my thighs. I jolted, a strangled cry ripping free.
“There,” he murmured, voice dark velvet, “That’s not hate, Penelope. That’s need. That’s your body screaming for me.”
His fingers pressed harder, deliberate, drawing a traitorous moan from my throat that I bit back too late.
My face burned, tears streaking hot. “Stop! Please—I don’t want—”
“You don’t get to want,” he cut in, sharp as a blade. “You lost that right when you sold me out.” His head tilted, lips grazing my ear, breath scorching as his words dripped slow and merciless. “But your body remembers. Your body still knows who owns it. Who owns you.”
