Page 72 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

An odd thrill washes over me at such an idea, having this possessive man staking his claim on me, because as bad as he is, no one would ever dare to hurt his wife.

I will be protected behind the fortress of the beast’s castle, and anyone daring to even think about hurting me will pay the price with their life.

My core spasms, dripping against his pants-covered hard-on that teases my clit with every step he takes to reach the bedroom.

As I tighten my hold on him, my other hand shifts from his shoulder to his chest, marveling at the carved muscles, but my heart weeps at the scars scattered all over him.

The puckered skin is rough and uneven under my palm, telling a story of anguish and suffering that pulls at my heartstrings. Without thinking, I place several small kisses on the ones I can reach, hoping that somehow it can serve as a healing balm on the old wounds that won't ever really heal.

A growl escapes Santiago. His gaze darkens as he walks inside the room, reaching the bed in three short steps and dropping me onto it where I land with a yelp, bouncing a little but quickly sitting up.

My eyes widen when I notice an ice bucket and tequila bottle in his hand. Is this what I felt against my spine earlier?

Licking my plump, puffy lips, tender from the intense kiss we shared, I ask, “What do you plan to do with it?”

A wicked grin shapes his mouth when he puts it on the nightstand. “My innocent, innocent girl.” His gaze roams over me, scorching my skin, and he orders, “Push your knees open, querida.”

Swallowing at his husky voice, which has the power to tempt any saint into sin, I do as he says, placing my feet wide apart. My toes curl into the mattress when I expose myself to his hot gaze, and a hot flash travels through me, my cheeks heating up at my position. Instinctively, my hands jerk, ready to cover myself up, but his growl stops me. “Too late to be shy, baby. You’re mine. All mine.”

My core dampens even more, the wet lace irritating the soft skin, and a needy moan slips past my lips, my body craving satisfaction only he can provide. “Santiago.”

“Show me your pussy, Briseis.” Putting my hand on my stomach, I slide it to my panties and move them to the side, gasping when my knuckles brush against my flesh, tickling under the cold air. “Ah, you’re dripping. All wet for me. Slip a finger inside.” I do as he says without hesitation, groaning when my core sucks my finger in, slipping into me easily, bringing only slight relief as it barely does anything to soothe the need growing in me. “Good girl. In and out, baby.” Moving in rhythm, I try to go as deep as possible while he watches me intently, my wetness soaking my fingers and only spiking the need rising to epic proportions.

Throwing my head back, letting my hair fall down my spine, I press the heel of my palm over my clit, shivering under the sensation and pleasure slowly slipping into my bones. Now the slight waves start to rock me as I push my finger in and then press my palm down, creating friction that can just—

“Stop.”

I freeze at his order, the air sticking in my lungs in anticipation.

He unbuttons his pants, freeing his cock, and I whimper at the sight of it, the precum leaking from the tip, the blue vein pulsing wildly. Without waiting for another order, I sit up on my knees, shifting closer toward him. Suddenly, my finger now seems like a pathetic substitute to this beast.

Wrapping his palm around it, Santiago squeezes it before giving it a long stroke. “Feed me your finger.” I lift it to his lips, and he sucks on it. I whimper at the feel of his velvet tongue, imagining it inside me while at the same time my eyes stay fixed on his thick length, my mouth watering, wanting to know his taste.

He lets go with a slight pop and gives himself another hard stroke before his other hand threads in my hair, tilting my head back and tearing my gaze away from his cock. He drags me closer toward him and gives me a brutal kiss, his mouth dominating mine, making my head dizzy with various sensations weaving through me one after another.

We share a breath as he ends it, his fingers digging into my scalp, and he asks, his voice dropping, “Want a taste, querida?”

“Yes, please,” I whisper, not caring anymore how lustful I sound or how much power it might give him.

In this bubble of our creation, only pleasure, need, and desire remain, guiding my every breath and want.

He steps back, pulling my head to his raging hard-on. “Open those plump lips that taste like sin and wrap them around my cock.” Leaning forward, I roll my tongue out, flicking over the head, his hips jerking at the contact, and I enjoy the musky, bitter taste before locking my mouth around him.

He groans above me, his fingers tightening their grip on my hair, and I relax my throat, taking him deep, running my tongue over the soft skin. “Fuck, my querida has no gag reflex?” At the pleasure ringing in his tone, a moan escapes me, sending vibrations through his length, and he hisses. “Enjoy that, don’t you?”

Driving him crazy?

Oh yes.

Slapping his other hand away, I put my palm on the base, squeezing it a little, and he pushes deeper into me. Marveling at the pulsing organ in my mouth, I glide my hand up and down, stroking him in time with my tongue working him.

Each touch on his cock spreads more desire in my veins, zapping electricity to my clit, tickling my hair, and my panties become soaked as my stare stays trained on him.

The way his blue eyes darken, dilating with passion, his muscles dipping, his heavy breathing filling the air and mixing with mine.

The most handsome man I’ve ever seen who deserves his own statues where people can admire him. Seeing his gorgeous face twisted in pleasure I evoke makes me almost dizzy; the knowledge of how he’s at my mercy, and right in this moment, having this power gets me off on its own.

Sliding my mouth backward, I suck on the head before letting him go. Then I run my nose over his length, his masculine scent twitching my nostrils and scorching my system.

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