Page 15 of Empress of Ruin
“I don’t understand. You could have anyone—literallyanyone—in the world. What’s your interest in me?”
Yes, I could have anyone. But Lyra’s the one I want. “You’re singular. Unique. Not just a rare find, but one of a kind. I’d be stupid to let you go.”
Her breath hitches, and she gives me a wide-eyed glance filled with vulnerability and uncertainty. I almost forgot just how susceptible she is to being wanted and cared for.Trulycared for, I mean. That’s a glaring weakness of hers—a void left by a childhood and lifetime spent catering to others.
Slowly, her fingers hook in the waistband of her panties, and she pulls them down her legs. Then, she strips out of her bra, but folds her arms across her chest.
“No.” I shake my head. “None of that. Let me see you.”
Her entire face burns with shame as she lowers her arms. Posture stiff, jaw tense, eyes filled with humiliation… but nipples hard. I can’t see for sure, but I suspect that she’s already wet.
“You can fuck me as much as you want. It won’t stop me from hating you.”
“That’s fine,” I say carelessly. It’snotfine, but I won’t give her the power of knowing that. “You might hateme, but I distinctly recall you didn’t hate my body. Or my cock. Or my tongue.” I unwind my belt, striding forward and setting it on the edge of the bed, leaving the threat out in the open. Lyra watches me with a skittish look as I strip out of my pants and step out of my boxers. Only then does her gaze pointedly avert, and she turns an even brighter shade of red.
“Lay back.” I climb onto the bed, watching as she obeys me without questions for once. Her temper often comes into check once she’s naked, exposed, and knows she’s about to be fucked.
“Thighs spread.” She inhales a long breath before following instructions, turning her head away to avoid my eyes.
When I see the glisten at her center, I understand why. Something about this—probably the power imbalance—has gotten her wet. Lyra always did enjoy acting prim and proper even though what she really enjoys is being pinned down and fucked to within an inch of her life. I am more than happy to oblige her.
She jumps when I rub my fingers through her slit. I didn’t let her come earlier—I wasn’t exactly in the mood to make her feel good. Now, though, she’s endured enough punishment. Her winces of discomfort tell me all I need to know about the state of her ass; laying down like this isn’t pleasant for her. If I was slightly less sadistic, I’d turn her over and fuck her from behind, but I have no urge to make this easy for her.
“I have a very serious question for you,” I say, spreading her wetness up and rolling the pad of my tongue over her clit. Playing with her is like riding a bike; I already learned all her sensitive parts of her body, everything that makes her squirm or cry or come, and I intend to use that knowledge to my advantage.
“Were there any other men while you were gone?”
She blinks several times, looking a bit dazed.
I helpfully pinch her clit between my forefinger and thumb, reminding her why she should answer. This encounter can be extremely pleasurable or extremely painful; I don’t much care either way.
“N-none,” she whispers.
“None,” I repeat slowly. “And you pretend you aren’t mine.”
Her eyes flash with rage. “I moved every few weeks. If I’d stayed in one place, you can bet that I’d have taken a love—”
I snap my hand around her throat. She doesn’t get to say that to me. Even though I’m certain she’s talking out of her ass, the thought of another man touching what’s mine is enough to drive me half out of my mind.
I pinch her clithard, rolling it between my fingers. She gasps, and her eyes roll in the back of her head.
“Donotprovoke me,” I growl. “You’ve already done that enough for several lifetimes. Trust me, Lyra, you don’t want to make me any more upset than I already am.”
I take her lack of response as agreement.
I spread her legs a bit wider with my thighs, settling myself between them. My hand remains around her throat, but my grip loosens. I’m warning her, not actually restricting her air. If she decides to get bratty, though, I’ll respond in turn.
“Deep breath,” I instruct her. “This next part might hurt a bit.”
Chapter Seven
Lyra
He plants a hand beside my head, grabs my hip with the other, and thrusts forward, burying the full length of his cock inside me. A shocked cry tears from my throat, and my eyes water from the onslaught of pain.God, it hurts. It fucking burns.
And I’m not sure who I hate more right now; him for taking what I’m not willing to freely give, or myself for getting wetter.
“Fuck,” he breathes. A shudder works through his shoulders. I try to center myself, find something to focus on other than the pain, but it’s hard when I feel like I’m impaled on a foot of his cock.
