Page 25 of Vow to Corrupt You
His fingertips gently rub my clit through the lacy fabric, my entire body tensing up. I can’t control the heatwave building between my thighs. I don’t want to feel anything. I feel disdain toward him, but God, he knows what he’s doing.
“I love seeing how the innocence in your eyes fades when I touch you.” His low rumble of twisted satisfaction blurs in my ears. I try to fight the growing pleasure, but my body’s response to his touch is stronger, and I’ve no power over it. He’s corrupting my senses.
He slides the dripping, lacy fabric of my thong aside and glides his fingers over my wetness, causing an involuntary moan to escape my mouth. He must’ve done it a hundred times because, dear God, he knows exactly how to touch me; his fingers know precisely how to move to make me want more. I’m aching for each wicked sensation his fingers cause to my body. Another moan finds its way out of my mouth, this time louder, more intense.
“You’re so deliciously wet.” I hear the complacent grunt again. “You were made for this, Serena. You were made for pleasure.”
My body shivers, whether it’s from fear or pleasure, as Nikos continues to plant hungry kisses down my chest until he positions himself between my shaky thighs.
“Spread your legs, wicked one. I want to taste what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in his voice sends me into overdrive. I don’t fight him, though. I obey. I know it’s inevitable—having sex with him. He’s my husband now, and the moment I agreed to marry him, I knew this was coming, whether I wanted it or not. No matter how much I hate him—and boy, do I hate him—this is now out of my control.
Reluctantly, I spread my legs, and his hands wrap around my thighs. My body shudders as he licks my center, his tongue trailing all the way up to my clit. My back arches involuntarily, my hands clenching into fists, gripping the soft sheets. I’ve never had a man between my thighs, and the sensation is just... so damn pleasurable.
I hate myself for enjoying it—I want it more than I’d care to admit. I hate myself because I know it gives him the satisfaction of possessing me, but my body betrays me anyway. It squirms toward him, offering itself up to him, and he knows it. I wish I couldn’t feel the heat growing between my thighs with each stroke of his skilled tongue. My skin tingles with every warm circle his tongue makes.
“Ah,” I can’t stop the moans escaping my lips as his mouth engulfs my pussy. My eyes close shut, fists blanching, toes curling as he devours me, his tongue plunging inside me. My hips want to roll with a greedy, hungry need, but I hold still. I don’t want to show him how good he makes me feel, but the buildup of my orgasm will speak for itself.
My nerve endings throughout my entire body stand at attention. I want to scream with pleasure as he works me. In and out, each time deeper inside me, fucking me as if it were his cock.
“Oh, God!” I finally cry out, my orgasm exploding, erupting.
I’ve pleasured myself many times, but nothing could compare to this. My legs shake, body trembling. He doesn’t move back; he holds me tighter, his mouth moving up to catch my clit once more and suck so hard, making my orgasm last even longer.
“Oh my God…” The moan escapes again, involuntarily.
He finally releases me, the loss of his body almost making me pout. I meet his gaze as he comes up, looking into my eyes with a wicked grin of pure satisfaction.
“God isn’t necessary, you can call me Niko.”
CHAPTER 13
Nikos
“Good night, my wicked one.” I lick my lips, relishing the lingering taste of her juices. She tastes of pure innocence that I cannot wait to corrupt. I rise from the bed, looking down to savor the sight of her body sprawled beneath me.
Her eyes wander between mine, startled, like a lost deer. “Are you leaving?”
I know she expected me to ravage her like the desperate savage she thinks I am. I won’t. Not yet. Despite every fiber in me screaming to fuck her, I restrain myself. She’s a virgin, and her first time has to be more than just forced sex she wouldn’t enjoy. The first time will shape how she perceives sex later, and I want her to enjoy it, crave it, beg for it. Beg me for it. I want to push her to the brink of madness until fucking me is the only thing she craves.
“Yes,” I murmur. “I’m leaving. For now, we won’t share a bedroom. Tonight, I’ll take the guest room, and you can enjoy mine. Tomorrow, the staff will have yours ready, with all your things prepared.”
“Why?” She looks at me as if unable to believe I’d do this out of kindness, and she’s right. I’m doing this more for my own sake than for hers.
“So you have time to adjust, wicked one, because once I own you, I’ll carve myself so deep into you that you won’t even remember what it felt like to be without me.”
“Does that mean…” she clears her throat as if my words have caught in it or as if she’s scared I might change my mind if she says the wrong words.
“I won’t fuck you. Not tonight,” I grumble darkly. “But when I do, I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll forget how to breathe. I’ll have you in every position and fill every hole for both of our pleasure.”
Her pupils widen, darkening her eyes to near black. Her hard swallow echoes through the deafening silence that follows my words.
I slowly lean down and hook my gloved hand beneath her face. “And you will beg me for it.”
It takes a second before her fear gives way to challenge. Her lips quirk in a playful smile, the first time since she crossed the threshold of this house. Perhaps the first time since our encounter in her father’s bathroom.
“When hell freezes over.” She raises her chin daringly so that our lips are almost touching. Almost.
