Finding His Strength: The Dirty Heroes Collection

by Stone, Measha

  “But you just said—”

  “If I punish you, Megara, it’s because you’ve earned it. But even then, the hurt won’t last and there will be no harm done.” His featherlike touch countered his stern tone.

  “I’m not going to be your little lap dog,” she vowed.

  His lips kicked up into a seductive smile. “Puppy play. Now that’s a game we’ll both enjoy. But not tonight.” His hand cupped the back of her neck. “Tonight is different. Tonight will be a new beginning.”

  Henrik brought his lips down over hers in a powerful kiss. He didn’t simply press himself against her, but coaxed her along, teasing her with his tongue, biting gently on her lip. Her body relaxed in his hold, melting beneath the sensuality of his touch.

  When he pulled away, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Go lie on the bed,” he instructed with a slap to her hip. She jumped slightly at the impact, still searching his expression. Although his eyes were warm, she could make out the tension building in his jaw.

  He obviously didn’t like delay in obedience.

  She climbed onto the massive bed and settled herself against the pillows. With her hands fisted at her sides, she lay flat, eyes clenched shut.

  “I’m ready,” she said resolutely.

  He shuffled around, dropping clothing onto the floor before the bed dipped under his weight. “For what? You look like you’re about to be executed.”

  She opened her eyes to find him staring at her with amusement.

  “Just relax, Megara.” He covered her body with his own, bracing himself on his arms to keep from crushing her. His knee worked between her thighs, spreading her for him.

  His nose brushed against hers, and the scent of his cologne followed, a musky leathery scent. She braced herself for his movements, but still found herself unprepared when his lips pressed against her cheek, then her chin, and her neck. More surprised, when his tongue ran across her skin, through the valley between her breasts.

  “How can a woman who wears no perfumes still smell of sweetness?” he muttered, placing a kiss to her belly.

  “H-How do you know I don’t wear perfume?” she asked, looking down her body at him. He tilted his head to meet her gaze, his forehead wrinkled.

  “I know a lot about you, Megara. Almost everything.” He kissed her belly button, scooting himself farther down her body. “But I don’t know how you taste.” He settled himself over her sex, and a tingle built up in her body, creating a familiar ache in her clit.

  With his thumbs, he spread her and brought his mouth over her clit. Electricity shot through her body, and she arched her back. His tongue danced over the sensitive bundle of nerves, over and over again, flicking hard, then softening, until the only sound she could utter was an aroused moan.

  He sucked her clit into his mouth, and she cried out. The pleasure hit too hard too fast. As she squirmed, his hand came up and rested on her belly. With only a little pressure, she was pinned to the bed, forced to endure the sweet torture of his tongue.

  Another long, drawn-out moan escaped her, only to be followed by a cry of pleasure when he thrust two fingers inside her passage.

  “Fuck, you’re wet.” He chuckled, licking his lips. “And hot.” He scraped his teeth over her clit and curled his fingers, stroking the perfect spot from within.

  “Henrik!” she cried out, the pressure building too fast for her to stop it. “Oh God!” she screamed as her insides exploded. Wave after wave of sweetness poured over her, hard pulses that took away her breath, leaving her to shout nothing but feel the need to scream at the same time.

  Slowly, he eased his thrusts, kissing her clit before finally pulling away from her entirely. She fell back against the pillows, breathing beyond her capacity, and stared up at him.

  He brought his fingers, glistening with her juices, to his mouth and licked off every bit of the remnants, as though he were finishing an ice-cream cone.

  The lingering hum in her body distracted her from a fear she should have known when he wrapped his hand around his cock. Her gaze locked on his motions, stroking his large, thick dick in his hand as he brought the head to her pussy. She tensed, remembering the burn of the night before.

  “Easy, Megara,” he ordered. “It won’t hurt like last night,” he promised, but she doubted he could keep his word. “Spread your legs for me. Wider.” He pushed at her thighs.

  She clenched her eyes.

  “No,” he barked. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  She obeyed, but left her hands fisted.

  “Good. Now, look down, where my cock is touching your cunt. I want you to watch as I take you, as I make you mine.”

  Pushing herself up on her elbows, she found the spot he wanted her to stare at. The thick head of his cock pressed against her. She tensed.

  “Ease up or it will hurt again,” he warned her, kissing the top of her head. “But don’t look away.”

  Pushing past her entrance, she sucked in her breath. A heated stretch waned into a fullness as his cock slid inside her, inch by inch. She bit down on her lip and fell back onto the bed as he thrust entirely inside her.

  He stilled. “Fuck,” he groaned, looking down at her. “Do you have any idea how pretty you are like this? Innocent and sweet. No…don’t talk.” He shook his head, causing several locks of his hair to fall onto his forehead. He had more of a boyish charm like that.

  He pulled back, withdrawing his cock almost fully, before plowing forward again. She grunted along with him, but not from pain. No, the bit of discomfort melted evenly into the pleasure of having him fill her. Again and again, he drove into her, all the while watching her expression.

  She couldn’t hold his gaze. It was too full of hunger, of want. What if she didn’t give him what he wanted? Would he punish her? Though he’d meant it as a threat, now, with him fucking her, filling her, claiming her, the idea of being thrown over his knee like a naughty girl heightened her arousal. She found herself grasping his shoulders and rolling her hips to meet each of his thrusts.

  “Oh, fuck.” She threw her head back as he flicked her nipple with his finger, twirling it. When he pinched it between two fingers, she hissed and grabbed his wrist.

  He stilled.

  “Let go,” he ordered darkly.

  “It hurts,” she whispered.

  “It will hurt more if you don’t let go,” he promised. “It will feel good again, I promise.”

  She peeled her hand away from his wrist and watched his fingers as they rolled her nipple, increasing the force. Snapping her teeth, she sucked in a long breath as the pain warped into something similar to fire, a heat that needed to be put out, but she didn’t want to go away.

  “That’s a good girl,” he said softly. “Just let yourself feel it.” He began to pump his cock into her again. “Fuck, your cunt’s so tight, so sweet.” He ramped up his thrusts, going harder and harder, while his fingers twisted and played with her nipple.

  Her body wound tight.

  “Ohhh.” Her eyes flew open. He released her nipple and began the same torture on her clit.

  “Come for me again, Megara. Unleash beneath me,” he ordered. Her body didn’t need any direction from him. Her orgasm already teetered within grasp.

  He thrust fully into her, his balls smacking her ass as he ground his hips into her. An entirely new fullness blossomed and dragged her body to the edge of the world.

  A simple flick of his fingertip across her clit, and she reeled over the cliff into the swirling tornado of energy and pleasure. Over and over again, she screamed. He didn’t relent, he didn’t slow, he didn’t give her time to come down from her release as he fucked her harder and harder, chasing after his.

  She dug her nails into his shoulders. The bed creaked beneath them. Finally, he thrust harshly once more and stilled, letting loose a roar worthy of any wild beast.

  Her heart hammered in her ears as her breathing slowed to a more manageable pace. Henrik ran his thumb over her mouth, pulling her lower lip from be
tween her teeth, and kissed her warmly.

  Before she could respond to the kiss, he pulled away, rolling off her. He held himself up on his elbow and ran the tip of his finger down the length of her nose.

  She started to sit up, but he pressed her down flat.

  “No, stay still so my seed takes root,” he held firm.

  “Your seed?” She blinked. “You want me to lay here to be sure I get pregnant?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “And it doesn’t matter what I want in the matter?” She shoved his hand away.

  “Stay down, or I could tie you?” His lips kicked up into a grin. No doubt he would love that. Bind her down and do whatever he wanted to her—torture her, fuck her, whatever got him off.

  “I’ll stay down, but I’m cold. I’m getting under the blankets.” She shoved at him and tugged on the quilt. He climbed off the bed and helped get her settled beneath them, then grabbed his pants and shoved back into them.

  “You aren’t staying here?” she asked, hope blossoming.

  “I have my own room.” He leaned over her and kissed her, a hard but brief kiss. “I’ve enjoyed you, but my job here is done. I’ll see you in the morning, wife.”

  He winked, snagged his shirt from the floor, and sauntered out of the room. The moment the door clicked shut, she shot out of the bed and hurried to the bathroom.

  His seed! She found the douche kit in her toiletry bag and kicked the bathroom door closed.

  She would not lay down and just accept his rule.

  She would not.

  13

  She’d gotten herself lost.

  Henrik stared at Oliver as he recounted the story.

  “She didn’t mean any harm,” Oliver defended her.

  “Oliver, do you think I’m going to hurt my wife?” Henrik asked in a near growl.

  “No, not intentionally, but you have that look on your face. Like you’re about to go into battle, and she’s been through enough this morning.”

  “She wouldn’t have if she’d listened to me when I said she needed someone to escort her until she got a good sense of the estate. It’s her own fault for walking into that room and scaring herself.”

  “Thankfully, the rooms were empty, but she wanted to know what they’re for,” Oliver went on.

  “And did you tell her?”

  He cleared his throat. “No, I thought you should.”

  “Don’t tell me that innocent routine worked with you? You know who her father is. You know as well as I do he probably has the same set up in his own house.”

  “She seemed completely taken off guard. It’s possible Christian’s hidden his business from her,” Oliver explained.

  Could it be that she really didn’t know what sort of business dealings her father had?

  “Fine, I’ll explain things to her.” Henrik closed his laptop. “There are a few other things she needs to learn as well.”

  “Henrik.”

  Henrik put a hand up. “Don’t bother, Oliver. She’s my wife. I’ll deal with her how I see fit.”

  “I was just going to say she’s in the kitchen.”

  Henrik looked down the hall. “What’s she doing in there?”

  “Cooking.” Oliver smiled.

  “Why?”

  Oliver raised both eyebrows. “Why don’t you ask her?” Oliver shrugged and brushed past Henrik.

  Gunter, his cook, sat at the kitchen island, observing his wife as she maneuvered something from a pan onto a plate. Henrik froze in the doorway, watching her while she didn’t know he was there.

  “See? Done. I told you it wouldn’t take long.” She put the cast iron pan back on the stove and clapped her hands.

  “Yes, I do, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea—”

  “What’s going on in here?” Henrik asked, leveling his gaze on the chef. Gunter jumped from his stool.

  “I was…I’m sorry, sir. She insisted,” he babbled.

  Megara rolled her eyes. “Don’t be mad at him. I made him let me cook my own breakfast.” She pushed a plate forward. “There’s plenty for you if you’d like. I just made simple crepes. There’s fresh whipped cream in the fridge, and I made a strawberry sauce to go with it.” She opened the door to the refrigerator and brought out the other elements to her breakfast.

  Henrik jerked his head toward the door. “Go.”

  Gunter nodded and scrambled from the room.

  “You don’t have to bully everyone.” Megara sighed. “It’s breakfast. It’s not like I took over the book keeping for your…well, whatever you do,” she said, a blush blossoming on her cheeks.

  He walked around the kitchen island, sat down on the stool Gunter had vacated, and pulled the plate toward him. “My mother used to make crepes when I was a little boy,” he said absently. He hadn’t thought about the woman who birthed him in too many years. Her face barely registered in his memories, but he recalled the special breakfasts she made him from time to time before she sent him off to live with Jackson and Hera.

  “Where is she now, your mother?” Megara asked quietly as she made another plate with two rolled crepes and began to pile the whipped cream on the side.

  “She died. Years ago.” Henrik pulled his plate closer to him. After dropping him at Jackson’s doorstep, she never returned. He’d been too young to realize it would be the last time he’d see her. As an adult, Henrik tracked her down, only to find out a short time after leaving him with Jackson, she’d became ill and died.

  “I’m sorry. About your mother.” Megara slid the bowl of fresh whipped cream toward him.

  “Gunter will fear for his job if you keep shooing him out of the kitchen.” Henrik rolled a crepe tightly and took a large bite. The blast of flavor, buttery with a tinge of sweetness, threw him off guard. He’d expected good, but fuck, it was the best thing he’d tasted in days. A simple crepe, she’d said. There was nothing simple about this.

  “With good reason too.” He rolled a second helping. “These are delicious,” he said before shoving it into his mouth.

  Megara poured the strawberry sauce over her plate. “It’s a bit sweet for breakfast, but you didn’t have enough eggs in the fridge for the quiche I was going to throw together.”

  “You enjoy this? Cooking?” he asked, reaching for the last crepe on his plate.

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “You finished your culinary schooling. Your father let you believe you’d own your own restaurant someday,” he said. Christian had been a fool to allow her dreams to get so out of hand.

  “That was my plan, yes.” Megara took a small bite of a cooked strawberry. A drop of sauce lingered on her bottom lip, and she licked it away with the tip of her tongue. His cock grew hard at the action. Simple, sweet—just like her. He wanted to corrupt it. He wanted to take her innocence and warp it until she had as many demons as he did. He’d share his own until she found hers.

  “It was wrong to let you think that would happen,” Henrik pushed his empty plate away and leaned his elbows on the counter. “You’re a Creon. His only child. Of course your marriage would determine your future. He never should have let you think otherwise.”

  Megara stared at him, her mouth partly open.

  “Maybe my father thought my husband would be an honorable man who saw the worth of his daughter.” She stabbed a strawberry. “Maybe he thought my future wouldn’t be tied to a man who saw me only as a reward for killing a traitor. Perhaps my father…” she paused, “maybe he thought I’d have a better future than what’s been handed me.”

  “You think me dishonorable?”

  She blew out a breath. “You shouldn’t ask questions that will only piss you off with the answer.”

  He leaned back slightly and folded his arms over his chest. Such cheek from a woman who knew little to nothing about him.

  “What makes a man honorable?” he asked instead.

  She chewed another piece of breakfast before answering. “Honest. Dependable. Loyal. Does the right thin
g when faced with the choice to do the wrong thing.” She took another bite of her crepe.

  “Have I lied to you?”

  She laughed. “I’ve had a handful of conversations with you, most of which you used to threaten me with punishments if I didn’t do exactly as you say.” She pointed her fork at him.

  “And during any of them, did I lie?” He plucked the fork from her and placed it beside his plate.

  Her brows lowered. “I suppose not.”

  “And have I done exactly as I’ve said?”

  “So far, I suppose.” She lifted a shoulder.

  “When you were going to make the wrong decision instead of the right decision, did I not help you?” he pressed.

  Her plump, fuckable lips screwed into a frown. “You kidnapped me.”

  “I brought you here for lunch.”

  “And locked me in a room!” She pointed her finger at him. “And that night…you…” She looked back down at her plate, her shoulders dropping.

  “Well, I won’t deny I can be an asshole. But on the score sheet, based on your requirements, I’ve acted honorably.”

  Her gaze flew up to his. “Henrietta might disagree.”

  “Yes, Henrietta. Let’s get this out of the way, then I never want to hear her name or her death mentioned again. Is that clear?” He hooked a finger around hers and pushed her hand against the countertop.

  “You killed her.”

  “I did.” He nodded firmly. “Do you want to know how?”

  “No.” Her face drained of color. “I heard my cousins…I already know.”

  “Good.”

  “How can a man claim to be honorable when he did something like that to an innocent woman?” she shot at him.

  Henrik laughed. “Innocent?”

  “She betrayed my father, I know that, but she should have been dealt with by him.”

  Henrik sighed. She really had no idea of how things worked in their world. She’d been kept too sheltered—another failure on Christian’s part.

  “And how do you think your father would have handled the situation?” Henrik stepped down from the stool.