Troy knew what would help her get there—and it wasn't tenderness. He instinctively understood the paradox of Faith Johansen: to find her strength, she needed to be overpowered first. To become free, she first needed to willingly enter captivity.
He couldn't wait to give her that. He ached for it.
"Yes, you can," he told her sternly as he laid her down on the mattress. "Now, take off that fucking dress."
Faith's eyes widened, something dangerous sparking in their depths. Her lips parted with a little gasp, but no words came out. She was no longer insisting that he was the devil for demanding to see her body. She only shook her head weakly.
Obviously, his omega needed some inspiration.
Troy peeled off his shirt, flexing his arms as he threw it on the floor. Faith's mouth dropped open at the sight of his naked chest.
Good. She liked what she saw.
A rush of pride mingled with Troy’s urge to protect her, but neither emotion made a dent in his desire. Faith's body was so small in comparison to his—no more than half his size—but he could see in her eyes how eager she was to take him in, to feel the delicious heat of his bare flesh against her own.
No. Not to take—to be taken.
And he would take her farther than she'd ever dreamed.
Just as soon as she took off that damn ugly sack, a garment designed as much to shame her as to protect weak, spineless beta men from their own urges.
"This is the last time I'm going to tell you to take off your dress," Troy growled, moving to the edge of the bed and looming over her.
Faith's tongue wetted the bow of her lips in a nervous gesture, her eyes never leaving his chest, as though he was some kind of damn statue in a museum. "But—"
"Now."
The truth was that Troy didn't know how much longer he could stand to wait. Either she was going to do what he said, or he was going to have to rip her clothes into shreds.
Just as he'd done with her panties, which now lay in the frozen field in front of his house slowly being covered with snow, where they would probably stay until the spring.
The memory of the taste of her sweet pussy made Troy's cock surge with blood, pressing painfully against his zipper, begging to be freed.
Without thinking, he stroked it through the fabric of his pants. Faith's eyes grow wide, and she skittered back on the bed.
She had to know by now that he didn't bluff. That he meant every word he said.
Troy kept stroking himself as Faith knelt on the bed and lifted the hem of her dress with shaking fingers. He resisted telling her to move faster as she slowly lifted it up over her head, then laid it next to her on the mattress.
She didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she shrunk into herself, covering as much of her beautiful pale, creamy skin as she could by crossing her arms.
Troy wasn't having it. His patience had run out. He pushed her down on the bed and reached for the front clasp of her dowdy white bra. He didn't bother unhooking it—his omega would never be forced to wear something so ugly again.
Instead, he ripped it open and yanked it off. For good measure, he threw her dress on the floor too. Later, he'd burn them both.
Then he stood back so he could take in every last inch of his omega.
She was beautiful.
For a moment, Troy's raging need was overshadowed by something like reverence. It didn't matter how much of her nakedness Faith tried to cover her with her hands. It would never work.
No matter where he looked, he saw something he wanted—the rosy pucker of her nipples, the curve of her belly, the swell of her hips. The air was heady with the scent of her slick, which glistened in the soft light of the single lamp as it streamed down her thighs. He opened his senses fully to her, drinking her in, memorizing her, cherishing her.
Then his cock surged again, demanding attention.
Troy clenched his jaw as he unbuttoned his pants, stifling a growl. The weight of his cock pushed the zipper down, the shaft heavy in his hand.
Faith gasped at the sight.
She covered her face with her hands, grimacing in apprehension and fear. But it wasn't long before curiosity won out, and Troy caught her peeking through her fingers.
Well, as long as she was looking, he might as well give her something to watch.
Slowly, he stroked his hand along his hard length, cupping the head with his palm before sliding back down to the base.
Her eyes opened wider.
Troy gave himself a couple more strokes but soon grew tired of the feeling of his dry palm. He slid his hand over Faith's pussy, plowing through her slick until it dripped off his fingers.
He returned his hand to his cock and bathed it in her sweet, wet heat.
Troy's eyes drifted closed as he savored the feeling. His head fell back, a guttural rumble shaking the walls.
When he lifted his head, he found Faith gaping at him with a mix of intrigue and horror. "You're too big. You'll never—it's impossible—that won't fit inside me."
Troy laughed. How quickly she'd gone from I'd rather die to It won't fit.
She'd been wrong then.
She was wrong now.
"My cock was made to fit inside of you," he said tightly, lust straining his voice. "Just like your sweet pussy was made to take every inch."
Her face flamed at his crude language, but Troy knew that making her squirm in discomfort only inflamed her need further.
Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, Troy guided her head forward, bringing her to her
