Take

by Pam Godwin

  “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 edge 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 aga
in. 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.

  He fucking loved her body, especially her tits and the perfect way they fit his hands when he palmed them. He curled a thumb over a nipple, tormenting the taut bud as she rocked her head on the pillow and gulped for air.

  But she still wasn’t with him. Amid her husky moans snapped the cutting words of no and stop and hate you, reminding him she didn’t want this.

  He needed her to want this. In fact, his need for her to want this became the most important thing in the world.

  “Kate.” Her name scraped from somewhere deep and echoed outside of him like a prayer in an empty church. “Let go.”

  Her glistening gaze crept down the length of her body and landed on his. When their eyes met, it was a connection so welcome it trembled through his chest.

  Shifting his mouth to her clit, he flicked his tongue. Drew the nub between his lips. Sucked gently. And never looked away.

  That was when he sensed it. The shattered sigh she couldn’t hold in. The softening in her bones and muscles. The tiny twitches along her inner thighs. The reluctant longing in her expression.

  Her crumbling resistance.

  He finally had her.

  Under duress, a woman would do whatever she could to cope with the pain and justify its cause. Kate could endure physical abuse and all its malicious faces, and she had, many times over. But this? She had no defenses against Tiago’s gentle manipulations.

  The blade of his tongue ravished her relentlessly, weakening her willpower. The suction of his mouth was cruel in its devotion and so damn pleasurable her eyes blotted with wet stars.

  She would die if she didn’t come soon.

  She would hate herself if she did.

  But she might not have a choice. Not with her clit caught between those wicked lips as he suckled and tortured and plotted her ruination.

  “Stop.” Her chin quivered, and she twisted her arms in the rope, too bone-tired to put up a real fight. “Enough.”

  The wound beside his eye twitched with the flex of his jaw. It was a reminder that even he had weak moments, that he could be hurt, that he could bleed, just like other people.

  All thought vanished as his tongue knifed between her legs, slicing from her pussy to her ass and spearing both holes. His mouth was hot enough to melt iron and tenacious enough to liquefy every ring of muscle he kissed, loosening every opening he violated, and consuming her with one. Simple. Lick.

  Don’t come.

  Don’t come.

  Everything below her waist felt like warm butter—soft, wet, melted, and gooey. He’d reduced her to a throbbing puddle of lust, and at this point, he could fuck her without resistance. There would be no reflexive tensing, no self-preservation. Her body was enervated, wide open, soaked to the needy core, and humiliatingly primed for him.

  Frenzied sparks of electricity swept through her nerve endings, replacing her torment with a passion that answered his.

  Good God, he had never-ending passion. Every time he touched her, fevered energy rolled off him and caught her up in the surge. With her arms bound above her, she could only lay there and absorb the frantic caresses of his lips, the trembling reverence in his hands, and the intensity in his dark wolfish eyes.

  His hunger blanketed the room, smothered her senses, and turned her body against her. His tongue laved. His fingers adored, and his breathing ran away from him. He was climbing, building to a crescendo, and taking her with him.

  Her inner muscles found a rhythm, pulsing, squeezing, knotting, needing. Soon, every part of her locked onto that steady throb, matching it, heightening it, until all she felt was one banging heartbeat against his mouth. It propelled her toward the precipice, gathering, contracting, and launching her in the wrong direction.

  No, no, no, no, no!

  Tears hit her eyes, clogging her voice. “I won’t give this to you.”

  “Then don’t.” He reached beneath his hips and shoved off his briefs, the last of his clothing gone. “Take it, Kate. Take it from me.”

  He set his vicious mouth over her clit, clamped back on, and sucked, hellbent on forcing her surrender.

  Her body engaged, glued to those lips, everything inside her heating and tightening without her permission.

  Seized by resentment, she glared into the face of the beautiful monster as it bored down upon her, tunneling in with fingers, teeth, and tongue. She scrambled away from the edge. Tripped. Lost her grip. Spiraled.

  And fell into his dark hell.

  He groaned as she plunged, and goddammit, she groaned back, shaking, writhing, unable to stop the orgasm. Then she screamed, and the world exploded as her consent ripped away, and a ballistic eruption of heartbeats blew apart the darkness in shimmery bands of color.

  She came until his breath broke. Until his hot mouth left her pussy to the cool air. Until his bare chest appeared over her, his hands tangled in her hair, and the penetration of hard, heavy fullness raided her body.

  She was still coming as he thrust, slamming his hips against hers. It happened so quickly. A single swift stroke, and that was that.

  He took her virginity.

  Buried to the root, he didn’t move, didn’t shift those arresting brown eyes from hers. His fist hung tightly in her hair, as if forgotten amid the joining of bodies. His mouth parted, but there was no breath, as if he were paralyzed by shock.

  It didn’t hurt. She wished it did, so she could focus on the pain. The anger. But all she felt was confusion and sadness. And pressure. The pressure of all of him inside all of her.

  His girth swelled against her inner walls, stretching her to the point of discomfort. There was so much of him she didn’t think she could hold him in any longer. But instead of feeling the need to push him out, she willed him to move, to slide and rub inside her like her dependable dildo.

  Her reaction was so fucked up and shameful she could never speak it aloud. But there was one thing she needed to say.

  “Put on a condom.” She squirmed beneath him. “Please, don’t get me pregnant. You don’t want that.”

  She didn’t want that. It would be the worst possible outcome, outside of death.

  “I can’t have children.” Pain slipped into the creases of his eyes and vanished just as quickly. “I’m sterile.”

  “Oh.” Startled, she glanced away, blinking, stalling, and looked back. “What about—?”

  “I’m clean.”

  Of course, she was, too. Clean as a virgin.

  But her virginity was gone. The one thing she had left was no more. She couldn’t stop herself from mourning the loss of it, couldn’t stop the ache in her eyes or the silent stream of tears that ran into her hair.

  He watched her, his gaze inches away, chillingly still, barely breathing. Was that look on his face one of contrived regret? Or was it genuine sympathy as the reality of abduction, abuse, captivity, and manipulation rode on the waves of pleasure?

  How messed up was she that she craved that pleasure? Not the kind she gave herself at home alone. But a pleasure so filthy and twisted it could only be derived from a rapist’s tongue, lips, fingers, and cock as he invaded her body, weighing her down with his sickness, ruining her in the best and worst way possible.

  Staring down at her, he just held himself there, his thick cock firmly seated inside her, with a strange expression on his face. He didn’t speak, but his eyes didn’t shut up, the depths crowded by a storm of churning thoughts. She couldn’t read him, not for the longest time. Then he blinked.

  “This means something.” His breath
carried the bladed words, slashing them against her lips.

  “No. You’re wrong.” She didn’t want to hear this and shook her head, knocking more tears loose.

  “It means something to me.” He gripped her chin and wrenched her face back to his. “You have no idea.”

  Then he moved. Tiny, shallow, shaky thrusts. Mouth parted, cords straining in his neck, his eye contact was deafening, broadcasting something she didn’t understand.

  Soft, secret grunts reverberated from a hidden place inside him. The sounds shivered into strangled noises, reminiscent of fragile things breaking apart. Noises she never imagined coming from such a hardened, vicious criminal.

  With a hand in her hair and one framing her face, he fucked her slowly, delicately, as if committing every sensation to memory. He fucked her as if this were his first time, too.

  What a ridiculous notion. He hadn’t gone down on her like a novice, and he certainly didn’t fuck like one, either. But there was an innocent attentiveness in every thrust. A thoughtful slide of motion that implied this was more than sex to him, that it was grave and significant.

  She knew she was just reading into his deceptive words and strangling herself with misguided trust. No doubt he fucked Iliana with the same dedication.

  “I hate you.” She yanked on the rope, desperate to break free.

  “Ah. We’re back to that.” A smile twisted the aroused male’s gorgeous features.

  His skin was on fire, burning against her. His weight, solid and hard as cement, tacked her to the bed from chest to feet. She registered every point of contact, every quiver that ran through his muscles, every hitch in his breath. All of it affected her deeply, the intimacy shredding and destroying her. She wanted this to be different so badly it broke her fucking heart.

  “You’re raping me.” Another shameful tear slipped out.

  The hand on her face glided through the wet track, wiping it away, stroking with too much tenderness. “If you need to hate me, then hate me. Use me. Take pleasure from my body.”

  “You’re confusing me.”