“Love me like my demons do.”
—Akif Kichloo
Somewhere between the lust drowning my sanity and my black soul clawing to get out, I flipped her onto her stomach. While I hover over her, my grip pins her wrists above her head as I roughly drag my free hand up the back of her soft thigh, then the curve of her ass.
A deep shiver quakes her little body, and I squeeze. I’m unrelenting, filling my palm with as much of her as I can get. My fingertips bite into her skin, but, instead of tensing in fear, she lets out a breathy moan that makes my pulse pound in my ears.
When she grinds her ass against my cock, my entire body constricts, my lungs close in, and fuck, it’s been so long—I need to breathe.
I need her.
Dropping my forehead to her hair, I lift her slip as high as it will go and trail my nose down her spine. I suck in a mix of flowers and clean sweat, then part my lips, pressing them barely against her so my exhales warm her back. She trembles beneath me. I release her wrists as I prowl down her body.
The sweet scent between her legs hits me, and my nostrils flare. I yank the thong off her, and when she tries to turn to look at me, I crush a hand against her back to keep her still. Her breaths come out in pants as she squirms.
Pulling her ass up so she’s on her knees—her back dipped and her cheek still pressed against the pillow—I spread her legs and lower my face. My stubble brushes the insides of her thighs, and she groans.
Right now, she is my oxygen.
I suck in another lungful of her scent, breathing in her need for me, and my fingers bite into her thighs as the primitive urge to taste her consumes me. I drag my tongue across her slit, from one end to the other, holding her still when she jerks, then I go back for more. Opening my mouth, I suck and pull and lap up her juices, barely registering her mewls beyond the ringing in my ears. It’s been so long since I’ve tasted pussy, and fuck, she tastes so good.
Her fingers find my hair, and she bucks against my face. A snarl rumbles through me as I pull back to bite the inside of her thigh—hard enough to break skin.
“Fuck,” she moans, ready to rub against me again when I stop—frozen.
A drip of red leaks from the bite mark on her thigh. Crimson on porcelain, a magnetic contrast that pulls a hypnotic rhythm from my pulse. A dangerous thrumming stirs inside me. I inch closer, blowing lightly on the graze.
A quiver rolls through her, her ass perking up for me, and my cock strains painfully against my sweats.
Black clouds my vision as I lean in, gripping her thigh, and drag my tongue along the small cut.
With her arm still outstretched behind her, she tugs at my hair, trying to pull me up, but I ignore her, draining each new drop that emerges until the wound swells and turns a seductive pink. I tighten my grasp on her, letting the combination of her tastes blissfully consume me as images of red flood my mind. She pulls again, and a burning frustration tears through me, until my narrowed gaze finally locks on her lust-filled one. She stares at me for a second, panting, her skin glistening with sweat as heat mixes between our bodies.
I grit my jaw, my muscles flexing with need. Her taste is fresh on my tongue, her scent fueling my lungs, both swollen pink spots still in my line of sight. Hunger, greed, turmoil, hatred, and lust splinter down my body, forming a fiery ball of conflicting, violent urges inside me.
Something flits across her eyes.
Something I recognize.
Something dark.
She lifts herself up, the movement taking me with her so I’m sitting back on my calves, with her right across from me. Irritation gnarls in my throat. My eyes turn to slits as I prowl forward, but her slip is on the floor within seconds, and she’s climbing on top of me like the bed is scorching lava and I’m her only chance for survival.
Perky breasts brush my chest, her legs wrapping tightly around me as she grinds against my cock through my sweats. She finds my neck and licks, sucks, then pulls my skin between her teeth. A rough groan leaves my mouth. My palms squeeze her ass, and I move her against me, barely containing the agonizing need to pull my fucking pants off and plunge into her until she screams or passes out. She drags her lips to my pecs, then slowly travels down my abs as she licks me, my jaw clenched tight and my breathing ragged.
My cock throbs, aching more the closer she gets to it. I pull her back up by her hair, torment bleeding through my veins at the restraint.
Surprise crosses her features, but it fades as she stops and examines me. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips plump. After a pause, she brings a hand to my right bicep and digs her nails into me. I track her movements as she drags her nails down my arm, tearing the surface as she goes. When she stops, blood seeps from my skin.
She leans forward, her eyes never leaving mine. Softly, she presses her lips to the scratches. My biceps ripple under her touch, and a swallow passes through my throat when she darts the tip of her tongue out to taste.
Motherfucker.
I close my eyes for a second, the pounding in my ears splitting straight through my head and threatening to pulverize any remaining control. She trails a finger over the laceration, the same way I once did to her. My heavy gaze follows her finger as she presses it to her neck, sliding it down to her collarbone and leaving a faint line of red in its wake.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask coarsely, the flawless image before me burning into my mind—me staining her flesh, marking her perfect skin.
She wraps her arms around my neck and inches closer. Her sky-blue eyes hazy and at half-mast. Cocking her head to one side, she parts her lips and lets out a breath, inviting me for a taste.
“Letting you see me,” she whispers.
A low grumble moves up my chest. I slide a hand under her hair and palm the back of her neck, telling myself to stop even as my grip pulls her to me. Running my nose along the curve below her ear, I breathe her in. Her naked body goes limp in my arms, but I see the racing pulse in her delicate neck, feel her fingers curl into my hair.
Finally, I taste myself on her, and a slow tremor quakes us both.
A taste turns into a nibble, then a bite. Then I’m sucking on her skin, and her hair is tangled in my fist. My chest hammers, need ripping through me. She claws my neck and mewls when I move off the bed, standing with her naked body coiled around me.
I lift her high enough to pull her nipple between my teeth, my heartbeat drowning out her moans. With one hand still in her hair, I dip the other between us and stroke her wet clit. She jerks and tugs my pants down slightly, rubbing her hot pussy against my cock, and my lungs constrict. I stiffen, a surge of adrenaline seizing my muscles as I faintly recognize that I’m spiraling. She squirms and tugs at my sweats again, then pulls my ear in her mouth and sucks.
My blood pumps so hard it’s blinding, specks of black appearing and dissipating.
Fucking shit.
I throw her on the bed and whirl around, fixing my sweats. Running both hands through my hair, I squeeze and pull at the strands as I pace across room.
What the fuck am I doing?
Bracing one palm on the wall, I drop my head and close my eyes, forcing the blistering heat inside me to die down so I can breathe oxygen again and regain a little fucking control.
I haven’t lost it in six years, and even then it wasn’t like this—spiraling before I even got my damn release.
The bed creaks, and my back stiffens. “Don’t.”
She waits in silence for a long moment while I steady my breaths, my pulse. My cock doesn’t seem to get the message, no thanks to Emmy’s scent still clouding the air, her touch lingering on my skin. When I speak next, my fingers dig into the wall as though it could restrain me from pouncing on her again.
“What do you need?” I bite out.
“Wh-what do I need?” Her voice is out of breath and confused, and it only frustrates me more.
“What’s it going to take to get you to follow some goddamn instructions?”
“What?” She sounds stunned at first. But when she opens her mouth again, fire coats her words. “What’s it going to take? I want you. I—”
“More money? A different master? A plane ticket home?” I pummel straight through her answer as if she wasn’t speaking, because the one thing she named isn’t a fucking option. “Name your price, mouse.”
The bed creaks again, and this time I hear material shifting before she’s approaching from behind. She pauses. I can picture her body tightening in anger without having to look at her.
Pushing off the wall, I turn to face her.
She’s put her slip back on, her hair a mess and her skin still flushed. Her eyes are fuming, but her chin is held high.
Because deep down, she’s not a damn mouse.
“If that’s the way we’re doing this,” she finally says, “fine. I want different duties. No more being stuck in the kitchen or other housekeeping jobs. I want to do something of value. And without a babysitter glued to my hip.”
My gaze narrows, suspicion spiking inside me. “Something of value.”
She nods. “Things that actually matter for your businesses. Like what Stella and Aubrey do.”
Taking a slow step toward her, I mutter, “And what do you know about my businesses?”
She pulls her shoulders back. “The kitchen wasn’t exactly eye-opening.”
My lips twitch despite the irritation still coiled around me. “No, I don’t suppose it was. And you realize what you’re asking?”
Her eyes flicker with uncertainty, but she wipes it clear. “Yes.”
I rub my chin, genuinely considering her terms.
With a request like that, she’s clearly still up to something.
I could pawn her off to one of my brothers and avoid having to deal with her altogether. But then I see images of their hands on her naked body, and the urge to slice off their dicks consumes me. Not great for our relationship. The most obvious solution is what Felix already suggested—cut her contract and get her far outside these walls. Eliminate the risk for good.
Obvious choice, yes, but after today, that’s not an option for me either. I’m not so sure I’m done with her yet—and I sure as fuck don’t want anyone else having her.
“I’ll think it over.” A buzz vibrates on the dresser. I glance toward the sound then back to her, thanking whoever the fuck it is for interrupting. “For now, you can manage one more day in the kitchen.”
I don’t wait for her to respond before I’m walking to the dresser, revealing none of the tension still gripping me as I press the phone to my ear.
“Go ahead,” I tell Felix.
The door clicks, and my shoulders relax a fraction. Funny how being fucked isn’t nearly as pleasing as I remember.