“Avoiding me again?”
Namoriee winced, hearing the disappointed lilt in the masculine voice that spoke from behind her. She turned to face him.
“No?”
His lips twitched, as if fighting a smile. He moved over to her, cocking a brow once he stood in front of her. “You really gonna go this route again?”
Gentle fingers nudged her chin up when she looked away, frowning in concern. “What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong is that time was escaping her. The days were blurring together in one big, blissful stream, and Tyronian was doing everything right.
He was gentle with her, caring. She knew firsthand how profound his desire was for her, yet he treated her like a precious jewel he didn’t want to tarnish. He was so demanding two years ago; he made sure she knew that he had staked his claim, and that she wouldn’t escape him nor have a choice in the matter. He warned her that she was going to be his the moment after her eighteenth winter. He was the being lurking in the shadows, patient and watchful for his time to strike.
She was fully prepared to hate him—she’d counted on hating him—but she didn’t.
She couldn’t
He made it nearly impossible. It was maddening, and it frightened her. She needed space to think, so she went to the only place she knew she would find solace.
“How did you know I would be here?”
He grinned, glancing around at the small space of the now vacant hut. “I knew you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, so Aggod and Leawyn were out. Once I saw you weren’t with the horses, I thought, ‘What would be the farthest place away from the village that Namoriee would escape to?’” He encompassed the space around them with his hand.
“That leaves your old hut.”
“You think you know me well, then?” Namoriee scorned, moving to brush past him. But strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm, stopping her. His look made guilt taste bitter.
“Did I do something to upset you?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “Everything is wrong!” She wrenched her arm out of his grip, taking several steps back.
“Everything?”
“Yes, everything! For the love of Goddess Ianna, how can you even ask that?” She rolled her eyes. “You stalked me! You followed my every move, butted into every aspect of my life since I was sixteen! You were so far down my throat, you made it impossible to breathe without the taste of you!” She laughed, but it was anything but humorous.
“You forced me to marry you. You took away my free will and made me agree to a bargain that I regret!” Her throat grew tight and her eyes prickled, but she continued. “You didn’t let me live!” The last part was a scream.
It became deathly quiet between them. The weight on her chest lifted, and with a horrified gasp, she realized what she just did. Her resentment and fear escaped their bonds of silence that she’d shoved them into, and she combusted.
She’d just spilled her darkest secret.
She risked a glance at him and felt her stomach bottoming out at the blank expression on his face. She stumbled back when he stepped towards her.
“Tyronian, I-I d-didn’t mean—”
“Don’t,” he stopped her. She could hear the pulsing darkness in his tone. “Don’t you dare think about lying to me right now.”
She started to tremble, physical evidence that she was fighting her urge to run. The last time she had seen this unemotional calmness was during the Warrior Choosing, when he had challenged Cantos and chopped off his head.
It was terrifying.
She couldn’t help but flinch when he brought his hand up. It was the wrong move, because if anything, his blue eyes darkened with more ferocity, nostrils flaring.
“Do you really think I would hit you?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Answer me!” She jumped when he slapped the wall beside her head with his yell. She hadn’t realized that she was backing towards the door.
“When have I ever given you the impression that I hit women?” he growled, his anger practically tangible.
“N-Never,” she whispered.
“Never!” he shouted, making her jump again. “I have never hit you, nor will I ever. So, don’t you ever flinch like that again, do you hear me?”
“I’m s-sorry,” she choked out. She didn’t know what else to say.
He pushed away, taking several steps away from her, visibly trying to compose himself. She looked away and stayed where she was, hugging her arms to herself.
“You hate the smell of sage.” She looked up, surprised, and he pinned her with his gaze. “Sage is one of the main properties Aggod uses when she heals . . . you hate the smell of it. Your nose would scrunch up just the slightest bit, and you would try to hold your breath.”
He took a step towards her. “You were thirteen when you came into womanhood, and you were terrified. I sent Lisswix to you, and she gave you clothes to wear and explained everything. Your favorite food is chicken, and you hate lamb but eat it anyways.”
He continued to step towards her with each evocative fact he revealed, and Namoriee was rooted to the spot, powerless but to listen.
“You love the sound of water. You like green fabrics, and your first kiss was with me because I made sure that no one else would take it.” Her chest was heaving when he finally stepped in front of her. He caged her in with his arms on either side of her head as his palms slapped against the door.
“I threatened to slice Hunt’yr’s throat when he was sixteen because he started to take an interest in you. I know that you don’t believe in love because you were abandoned as a child.” He said the last part gently, and her lip trembled with emotion.
“You’re right,” he whispered, tracing the column of her throat. “I stalked you, followed your every move. I manipulated your future so that it could only end with us being together. Maybe you deserved to make your own choices, but frankly, I think even if you could have, you still would have chosen me.”
“I deserved the chance,” she bit out quietly. He was making her feel guilty, and it wasn’t fair. He sewed together beautiful words that were as scary as they were sweet.
“Maybe,” he agreed, then his eyes changed, reflecting something almost sinister. “Would you prefer I be like Xavier?” he asked, his tone deceitfully light. “Would you rather I hurt you? Make you bend to my will forcefully?”
His hand had started to creep up her neck as he talked until he was cupping her throat. He squeezed it with the slightest of pressure. His hold was possessive, with the veiled threat that he could easily snap her neck with minimal effort if he wanted.
Dipping down, he murmured in her ear, “I can be him, if you want. I’ll hurt you. I’ll train you the way he did Leawyn, make you crave my pain almost as much as you’ll crave my cock.”
He firmed his grip and pressed into her until she felt the bulge in his breeches as he grated against her. “I’ll be your husband and master, and you’ll become my favorite of toys.”
She started to fight him then.
“Isn’t this what you want, my sweet?” he shouted, squeezing her throat more. She bit his ear then, and he jerked away from her with a curse, his hand moving to cover it.
He caught her wrists in his hand when she went to slap him, hauling her against him roughly.
“You can bite me, hit me—do whatever you need to do to convince yourself that you need to hate me, but I am never going to give up, and I’m never going to stop.”
Namoriee shook her head; she was a blubbering mess as he walked them backwards with each word.
“Not until you feel even the slightest bit of what I feel for you—and even then, it won’t nearly be enough.”
The back of her knees hit the empty bed at the exact moment he slammed his lips on top of hers. She whimpered at the contact. Their teeth clinked together, and he gripped her hair tight enough for her scalp to burn.
His kiss was demanding. Rough. Possessive.
He yanked her head back at an angle that made her neck strain, enabling him to dominate the kiss even further. He nipped her lips, the pain making her gasp, and his tongue slid against hers in harsh movements, expressing his anger at her with each slide. His grip loosened a fraction, and she found herself suddenly spun around and bent at the waist. His grip was tight enough to bruise as he pushed her down until her face was flush with the blankets, forcing her to turn her head so that she could breath.
“You drive me insane, Namoriee,” Tyronian rasped. “You keep pushing me, tempting me to teach you a lesson.” She whimpered when she felt her dress flip, exposing her bottom.
“I think it’s about time you learn what happens to naughty little girls.”
The first slap made her cry out in surprise. The second was more forceful, and made her jolt. The third stung, and she couldn’t help but reach back. But he caught her hands and held them against her back before she could attempt to cover her backside.
Smack!
Smack!
The smacks varied in strength as his palm rained down on her until her ass was stinging and she was sure it was red. She cried out when he delivered another, harder than the rest. His hand smoothed over the cheeks, prolonging the sting before sliding lower.
“You’re dripping,” Tyronian groaned in delight as he pushed a finger inside of her. Her breath escaped her in a sigh, pleasure whipping through her nerve-endings as he pumped his fingers inside her. Her climax was just within reach when he stopped, effectively trapping it inside her.
“I didn’t give you permission for that yet,” Tyronian growled in answer to her petulant cry. Namoriee stilled when she heard his belt clinking and fabric pooling on the floor.
There was no preamble. No warning. Just the sure thrust of his hips and the stretch of her inner walls as he filled her.
“Ah!”
“Your cunt is so damn tight,” Tyronian groaned in ecstasy. “You feel so good wrapped around me. I’m gonna take you hard, and fast, Namoriee. Up until this point I’ve been gentle with you, but that ends tonight. I should be sorry, but I’m not.”
His chest met her back as he nipped her ear, then the juncture of her neck. “Get ready for the ride of your life.”
He pulled back, fingers digging into her hips and scalp, and surged inside of her again, filling her to the brim. Namoriee cried out, her body stiff from the zing of pain/pleasure.
“That’s it, scream for me. Let everyone know who you belong to.” He was impossibly deep; she could feel herself stretching around him to try and accommodate the entirety of his girth.
“Tyronian!” Namoriee mewled weakly, bucking beneath him.
He set a crazy pace, and the sound of his thighs slapping against her flesh echoed around them in rapid succession. Her moans were partly drowned out by the fabric of the bed, his grip on her hair keeping her at his mercy.
He was right. If she thought he was ever rough with her before, it was nothing compared to this. His thrusts were strong and fast. The force of them pushed her face deeper and deeper into the mattress, causing her cunt to flare with both pleasure and soreness at the treatment it was so unused to.
He kept her powerless as the myriad of sensations overwhelmed her.
“I love the feel of you squeezing around me. It clings to my cock as if begging it not to leave.” His voice was thick with lust, and the filthy words ignited her insides.
Namoriee’s moan was broken as her first orgasm rippled through her. Tyronian didn’t slow. His grip changed in her locks, and Namoriee gasped when he pulled, forcing her to arch her back.
“Gods,” she yelped. “Please!”
“The gods won’t save you from me, sweet girl,” he chuckled darkly. “You’re mine.”
The second orgasm made her breathless. The third had her body slumping. By the fourth, she was so over-sensitized that she begged him to have mercy on her.
“I can’t, Tyronian. I can’t!” Namoriee whimpered against the familiar swirl of fiery pleasure illuminating from deep within. She couldn’t take another orgasm. Not like this.
“You will for me,” he grunted. “I’m not giving you a choice. Everything about you is mine, Namoriee. You’re my property, which means I can use you however I see fit, regardless of how sore your sweet snatch gets. Because that’s mine, too. I own it. And I can do whatever I please with it.”
Namoriee closed her eyes. She was sore, yet with each stroke of his shaft, she was lashed with pleasure that seemed to coexist with the pain. She felt his weight against her back, and he snaked an arm underneath her, holding her close. He whispered praises in her ear, even as he continued to pound into her with brutal intensity.
He whispered how good she felt around him, how tight and warm she felt. How he wished he could stay buried inside of her forever. She was helpless against him. And when he demanded her to tell him how much she wanted him, to admit that she was his . . . that she belonged to him, she could do nothing but agree.
Because right then, in that moment, she was so strung out with ecstasy that she couldn’t hide the truth.
“I’m yours,” she whispered throatily.
She shuddered when his paced changed, opting to plunge inside of her with long, slow strokes instead of the thunderous pounds he was delivering before. He took his time pulling in and out of her body, his lips raining wet, openmouthed kisses down her neck and back, contradictory to the tempo of his hips. He was rewarding her for her confession.
It didn’t take her long to start to climax this way.
“Please,” Namoriee gasped, feeling the swirl of pleasure growing. She could feel herself start to tighten, making her feel even more full with him inside her. Her body became taut like a bowstring, and her spine tingled.
“Please, I want . . . I need . . .” She trailed off, shaking with her effort to hold off. The fact that she was waiting for his permission irritated her beyond belief, but she didn’t want to risk losing this.
“Let go, Namoriee. Soak me with your release. I want to feel you.”
His permission was all she needed. Her orgasm swept through her like a tornado, whipping through her from the inside out.
“Tyronian!”
The force of it brought tears to her eyes, and her body convulsed violently. She slumped, but Tyronian carried her weight and kept her body in position as he chased his own release. Finally, after what seemed like ages, she felt him stiffen. He pumped into her a few more times before he stilled, burying his face into her neck to muffle his groan against her skin. He flooded her with his come until she felt it dripping down her thighs.
Tyronian collapsed on top of Namoriee. He held her tightly as her body quaked with the aftershocks of what he’d put it through. Their breaths were ragged and filled the room. He pulled back, resting his forehead on her back and catching his breath. Gods, she felt so good. He wanted to take her again, but he knew he should let her body regroup.
She whimpered in protest when he slid out of her, which just made him want to slide back inside her heat. He felt an insane amount of satisfaction when he caught sight of his release mixing with hers as it slid down her inner thighs.
She flinched when he touched her gently, spreading her so that he could watch better. He didn’t tell her this, but he was glad at the amount he saw. He wanted her swollen with his child. He wanted to further bind her to him.
He only hoped it was enough.