From Evil: Books 4-6

by Pam Godwin

  In a desperate last-ditch attempt, she let a whisper tumble out. “Please, don’t take this from me. It’s all I have left.”

  His spine snapped straight, his expression frozen in malice.

  Shit. She’d made a sound, broken his rules. This was about to get a whole lot worse.

  Arturo’s hips bumped her inner thighs, and her entire body locked up on reflex. She sealed her eyes shut, willing the trembling to ease from her muscles.

  His breathing grew heavier, closer, and fingers dug into her leg.

  “Basta,” Tiago barked. Footsteps sounded his approach, and his next words came from above her. “Open your eyes.”

  She couldn’t look at him.

  Keeping her eyes squeezed tight, she angled her head away.

  His fingers stabbed into her hair, fisting it near her scalp. Then he yanked, wrenching her face to his and forcing her to meet his terrifying gaze.

  He looked at her, really looked for an eternity, as if searching for some answer behind the anguish in her eyes.

  Whatever he found there slackened his expression. He released her head and stepped back.

  “I changed my mind.” Gripping his nape, he swung his glare to Iliana, then Arturo. “No one touches her but me.”

  CHAPTER 13

  What the fuck am I doing?

  Tiago scraped a hand down his face, reeling from shock.

  She’s a virgin.

  It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t mean anything at all.

  But it fucking did.

  Actually, the only thing that mattered right this second was getting her away from Arturo, who was standing there with his mouth ajar and his dick in his hand.

  “Iliana.” He gestured at Arturo. “Finish him.”

  She crooked a finger, and Arturo followed her into the front room. As she pushed him onto a mattress, Tiago didn’t miss the suspicious look she flung in his direction.

  Yeah, something was definitely off with him. He never reacted on impulse or emotion. Everything in his life was studied, rehearsed, designed with patience and purpose, and meticulously positioned to prevent undesirable outcomes.

  Except this.

  Kate lay on the table, motionless, watchful, her face pale and soaked with tears. Long golden hair rippled around her head, and full lips bowed downward, conveying all the ways she wanted him dead. As her steely glare held fast to his, he reminded himself to breathe.

  She was the fiercest, most exquisite creature he’d ever laid eyes on, and she was his.

  His prisoner.

  His property.

  His only source of light, glowing through a crack in the coffin of a twelve-year purgatory.

  Grunting sounds drifted from the front room, breaking his trance. He fished the finger blade from his pocket and tackled the rope on Kate’s arms and legs.

  The instant she was cut loose, he tossed her over his shoulder.

  There was no reason to carry her. But he was operating on instinct, and for the life of him, he couldn’t stop.

  He left the kitchen, took the stairs, her warm body draped over his as he navigated each step and turn. Her sweet natural scent was so pervasive his skin heated, and he quickened his pace, speeding toward a delirious unknown.

  Every movement was unpracticed, every step uncharted. He had no strategy, no agenda but one.

  Claim her.

  Blood rushed to his cock, making him thicker, hungrier, more impulsive. He charged straight to his room. Shut the door behind him. Locked it. Carried her to his bed.

  The second her feet found purchase on the mattress, she attacked.

  In a whirlwind of fangs and claws, she went for the wounds on his head.

  Knocking her arms away was easy. Sweeping her legs out from under her and dropping her onto the bed with a knee on her chest took less than a heartbeat.

  Her eyes illuminated with blue fire, signaling her next move before she swung a balled fist toward his groin. Even with the warning, that bony-knuckled punch required him to jerk back. She missed but kept coming, flinging herself at his chest with a glorious, bloodthirsty expression on her face.

  He caught her, rolled them onto the mattress, and landed with her on her back and his weight pinning her down. But she wasn’t finished.

  With a battle cry, she reared back an arm, and for reasons unknown, he let her have the hit.

  Her fist skidded across his jaw and mouth. He tasted blood, a kiss of pain, and grinned. “That’s the only one I’ll give you.”

  “I hate you.” She bucked and thrashed underneath him.

  “I’d question your sanity if you didn’t.”

  With the rope still tied to her wrists, he secured the ends to the cast iron pipe on the wall. She held her murderous rage behind clenched teeth until he finished restraining both arms above her head.

  “You’re a heartless kidnapper,” she spat.

  “Can’t argue with the evidence.”

  “You’re a murderer.”

  “Yes.” He put his face in hers and smiled a humorless smile. “I’m the reason people lock their doors at night.”

  She took a breath, one that seemed to go all the way through her, and released it. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Everything you’re dreading and more.” He pushed off the bed and unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves.

  A tear slipped from her eye, but she didn’t sob or beg for mercy. She simply glared, and in that single chilling look, he knew she was his perfect match.

  Bending at the waist, he removed his boots while letting his gaze travel along the porcelain skin of her thighs, the dramatic tuck of her waist, and the delicate curves of her small breasts. His hunger for her was sharp and sick.

  She looked like an angel, her body too pure and ethereal to touch. But she wasn’t innocent. Even though Van Quiso hadn’t fucked her, he’d put her through weeks of hands-on training. She probably learned techniques Tiago didn’t even know existed.

  “Explain something to me.” He removed his socks, his shirt, and stared down at her. “How are you still a virgin?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Lie to me again and there will be consequences.” He unlatched his belt.

  Her eyes flashed, and a huff gusted past her lips. “Van couldn’t rape me. The slave buyer paid for a virgin.”

  “That was four years ago. Since then, you’ve been free to spread your legs for any man you desire.” Cocking his head, he absorbed her blinding beauty, savored every detail, utterly gobsmacked. “You lived with five hard dicks, and none of them fucked you.”

  Her face turned ten shades of livid. “There’s more to life than sex.”

  “Not for a man. Your roommates are pussies.”

  “And tying unwilling women to your bed makes you a man?” She dug her feet into the mattress and scooted back against the wall, tucking her knees to her chest. “You said you weren’t interested. Then you learned I’m a virgin and changed your mind? Is that your thing? You prefer your victims unsoiled, so you can be the one to plunder and defile them before you cut out their throats?”

  He was many things. Many repulsive, unforgivable things, but she was wrong about this. So fucking wrong on all counts. He’d never fucked a virgin in his life, not even when he lost his virginity at sixteen. He didn’t understand the appeal.

  Even now, imagining hurting her in that way, taking something so intimate and precious brought him no satisfaction.

  Worse was the thought of Arturo or any other cabrón touching her.

  This inconvenient possessiveness wasn’t new. He’d successfully ignored it since the night he met her. Didn’t matter that he wanted her with every vile, undeserving bone in his body. He never intended to fuck her.

  Until he heard her whispered plea.

  It’s all I have left.

  He would die before he’d let Arturo take that from her.

  Of all the women who tempted him over the last twelve years—the parade of virgins, prostitutes, and every level of
experience in between—he couldn’t fathom why this mouthy, petulant, argumentative vixen was the one who had pierced through the tough, shriveled crust of his dead insides.

  Of all the goddamn women, why was she the one he wanted for himself?

  He had but one explanation, which wasn’t an explanation at all. “You’re mine.”

  “Oh, for the love of caveman clichés.” Her mouth twisted into a snarl. “Just kill me already.”

  Brave words, but she didn’t mean them. Her will to survive blazed in the molten core of her being. Not even he could douse those flames. And he wouldn’t.

  While the rational part of him analyzed all the reasons why he couldn’t wrap his life around this woman, the rest of him didn’t fucking care.

  This wasn’t him. This wasn’t how he operated.

  He flexed his hands, seconds from putting a fist through the wall. He wanted to hear the bones crunch, feel the hot gush of blood between his fingers, and remember the paralyzing pain. He needed to remember his penance.

  Tipping his head back, he stared at the rafters, exhaled roughly, and leveled his gaze back on her.

  Those destructive blue eyes fired a barrage of animosity and judgment. He could drown in her hatred and rise out of death in the intensity of her passion. Because she wasn’t just malice and vengeance. There were so many facets to her he wanted to carve her open, bleed all her layers, and preserve her strength in a canvas of beautiful scars.

  Fuck his penance.

  He was doing this.

  He was going to break his own rules.

  Resolve kicked his pulse into a gallop. He whipped his belt free and dropped it. His pants followed. Then he knelt on the mattress, wearing only his briefs.

  “What are you doing?” She squeezed her thighs together.

  “I’m going to hell, and I’m taking you with me.”

  No mistaking her terror. It drained the blood from her face and saturated the air with the short, frantic sounds of her breaths.

  That added another punishing scar to his miserable existence. The past six weeks hadn’t been easy for her, and every time he breathed in her direction, he hurt her more.

  He regretted what he was and the shit he’d done, but the shame wouldn’t stop him. It never did.

  A criminal with remorse was still a criminal.

  “You’re a rapist.” She flattened her back against the wall.

  “I’m not. But that’s about to change.”

  With her legs free to kick, she swung them wildly, desperately, at his head.

  Putting an end to that, he closed his hands around her ankles and pulled. She fought uselessly as he hauled her down the mattress on her back toward his kneeling position. When the rope on her wrists snapped her arms above her, he pinned her knees to her armpits and spread her thighs open.

  Everything stopped—his heart, breath, all sound and motion. The room faded until all that existed was the view beneath him.

  He stared at her, at her slit, at the dark narrow breach within. His face was just a kiss away as he gazed earnestly, devoutly, memorizing and cherishing her gorgeous design.

  The flesh around her tiny holes was so pink and taut he couldn’t stop himself from running his nose deep inside the cleft, devouring the scent of sweet torture from her pussy to her ass and back again.

  His fingers curled around the backs of her thighs, and all the heat in his body descended south. Fucking hell, he’d never been this hard, this reckless. His mouth watered to taste, eat, and consume.

  “Untie me, Tiago. Let me go. Right now!” She jerked her head, the only thing she could move. “I don’t want this.”

  “I know you don’t. But I promise, before I finish tonight, you’ll experience pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever felt.” He was nothing if not thorough.

  “The only thing I’ll feel is the seething, poisonous, undying desire to castrate you with my bare hands.”

  “That’s your fear talking. You know I’m right, and the thought of enjoying sex with someone like me scares you more than anything.”

  “I’m not scared.” She sawed her teeth together and roared, “I’m fucking pissed!”

  He was going to fuck that temper out of her with only his tongue. It would take a while, possibly hours to thaw her enough to climax. Christ, it had been a long damn time since he put his mouth on a woman. But he had all night to relearn.

  Settling in on his chest, he wrapped his hands around her thighs, trapping her legs on either side of her torso.

  She went crazy trying to break the position, but he was bigger, stronger, and more determined.

  “Be still.” He nipped her thigh. “You’ll wear yourself out before I get started.”

  “Fuck you, you miserable piece of—”

  He buried his face in her pussy and stole the breath from her voice.

  Her back arched as drugging sips of honey flooded his mouth. Her taste, her velvety warmth, the frantic rush of her gasps—she became his entire existence.

  Carnal need took over, pulsing through his veins and turning him into a mindless starving animal.

  His tongue delved into her depths, curling, licking, and moving on its own. He couldn’t control his aggression, and she was too tense to enjoy it, fighting and spitting through every second of it.

  She would continue to fight until he drove her to exhaustion. Only then would her anger retreat long enough to free the sexual energy that buzzed beneath her skin.

  Eventually, he reined himself in and eased into a pace he could maintain for as long as it took.

  Teasing a finger around the entrance of her cunt, he marveled at her silky heat. It felt unreal. Impossible.

  He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t even allowed himself to fantasize about it. Yet here she was, every inch of her beauty exposed beneath him, legs spread wide, with the intoxicating scent of her sex in his lungs. It wasn’t just a new feeling. It was monumental and absolutely necessary.

  He had to physically restrain himself from plunging in and decimating the depths of her body. “How often do you fuck yourself?”

  “Rot in hell.”

  He caught her clit between his finger and thumb and squeezed until she screamed. “Answer me, and be specific.”

  “I…I used to do it all the time. Every night. Before you took me.”

  “Did you put things inside you? Toys? Your fingers? I don’t want to hurt you more than necessary.”

  “Oh, is that right?” Her tone grated with resentment and hostility. “You want to force yourself on me the non-painful way? Instead of the fun, bind-and-torture-because-it-makes-you-feel-like-God way that rapists luxuriate in?”

  He pinched the swollen nub harder.

  She jerked beneath him, unable to escape the pain. “Jeeeesus, stop! Fuck! I use a dildo. My fingers. Whatever. Just… Please, stop!”

  Good, so there was no hymen to tear.

  He released her. “You come that way?”

  “Yes.”

  Thank fuck. He didn’t have the know-how or finesse to teach a virgin how to orgasm.

  Snugging closer into the juncture of her legs, he lightly stroked her inner lips with his tongue, around and around, following the edge of her opening without penetrating.

  She was wet with his spit, not with arousal. Using his mouth, he lubricated a finger. Then he kissed her cunt again, deeply, voraciously, leaving enough slickness to slide a digit into the hot, sucking glove of her body.

  As he slowly pushed in to the last knuckle, he groaned at the inconceivable tightness, the heat, while battling the overwhelming instinct to climb on top of her and rut like a raging beast.

  Her pussy quivered and shuddered against his mouth and hand. Her breathing accelerated. The lobes of her ears turned pink, and far quicker than he expected, her cream began to soak his finger.

  Her brain didn’t want this, but her libido was powering up, humming to come undone.

  He teased her with one finger, then two, determined to send her over the ed
ge before he fucked her. The firmness of his purpose pulsated between his legs, hot and swollen, so damn stiff and trapped at a painful angle against the mattress.

  The steady stream of her gasps wove through the room, spurring his tongue deeper as he focused on her pleasure. His teeth scraped in his urgency, and he fell into a zone, lost in her addictive beauty, the sublime fragrance of her skin, and the breathy sounds of her cries.

  He ate her for so long his mouth became one with her body, sealed to her delicate, delicious heat. He’d never been so blindsided by desire, so overcome by the need to lick every crease, kiss every curve, and plumb every hole. Her pussy, her ass, no inch between her legs was neglected by his tongue. He couldn’t get enough.

  He kept the thrusts of his fingers slow and consistent, careful not to overstimulate, chafe, or scare her so much she completely shut down. He could finally taste her arousal, the crisp, intoxicating tang of it telling him her body was reacting.

  When her hips lifted toward his mouth, that tiny reflex compelled him to move in closer and sink deeper. He was spiraling, falling, and fucking God, he didn’t want it to end.

  Where did his infatuation with this woman come from? Somehow, she’d reached straight into his chest and dug up something so vital and needy there was no turning back.

  His entire body shook with ravenous energy, his hips grinding against the mattress, breaths panting, and hands clenching so tightly his fingers imprinted on her legs. Nothing compared to this. To her. Just the feel of her satiny flesh against his lips drove him to madness.

  Time ceased to exist as he kissed her cunt the way he burned to kiss her mouth, as he devoured her soaked flesh until his jaw wore out, as he gorged on her again and again. Now that he accepted this indomitable attraction, he was possessed with it. Ensnared. He would never quit.

  Eventually, he lowered her spread legs, let her tired muscles relax, and flexed his stiff fingers. She sagged onto the mattress, boneless and breathless, too exhausted to fight.

  With her thighs resting on his shoulders, his hands were free to roam. He caressed her slender hips, her high round breasts, every part of her he could reach, and all the while, his tongue continued to worship her cunt.