Yes. I would’ve asked questions. And no, I wouldn’t have done it. I wouldn’t have set up the woman I’d had in my bed only once but have craved every day after. Maybe that’s what makes my anger blaze so hot.
“Don’t justify her behavior,” I say. “What’s done is done.”
He changes tactics, going for a softer tone. “Let me take her some food, maybe some wine. Let me at least make it better for her.”
I grin. “So you can break her free, or force your advances?”
Just like that, his anger is back. “It won’t be forced.”
“I’m tired of giving you the same answer. I’m telling you one last time. No.”
“You’re a bastard,” he yells after me as I continue on the path. “She doesn’t deserve this and you know it.”
The first part? True. The second? False.
She deserves everything she’s going to get.
I leave my brother standing in the jungle like the idiot he is, and continue to our room, where I rip off the eyebrows and beard before having a shower. Then I change and go to the kitchen to rummage through the fridge. I fix a sandwich and swallow it down with a beer, then make another and grab a bottle of water.
It’s late, and the guards who changed shifts have gone to bed. I sneak out quietly—not because I care who knows where I’m going, but to avoid Ilya—and make my way to the shed. I acknowledge the guards with a nod, unlock the door, and make sure I lock it again behind me.
She’s awake. I don’t need the light to know that. I can hear it from her uneven breathing. Moonlight enters through the cracks in the walls. The strips of light fall over her body, illuminating her in patches. A swatch of her pretty face, the swell of her breast, her flat stomach, a naked thigh, a delicate ankle. It’s different, looking at her like this. Subtle hints. I can focus on small portions of her, one at a time.
Leaving the light off, I advance on her. She goes rigid. Every visit from me brings the opportunity of death. I know it. She knows it. And I know what the knowledge does to a person. Even frail and small like a kitten, tied up and helpless, she doesn’t panic when her enemy looms over her. Oh, she’s scared. Terrified. But brave. I admire her courage. In fact, I admire it too much. It makes me hate her more, but it doesn’t make me want her less.
My cock jumps to life at the notion. I can have her like this, spread out like a sacrifice.
I put the food and water on the ground, and trail a hand over her leg. Her skin is soft. She watches me as I grip the hem of her shirt and drag it higher with the path of my fingers. I trail my fingertips over her thigh, ribs, and the side of her breast, exposing her slowly until she lies naked in front of me with shards of light falling diagonally over her pearly skin. The light catches one pink nipple that rises and falls with her breaths. The patch between her legs is in the dark.
Lightly, I slide my knuckles down the valley between her plump breasts. Despite the heat, her nipples harden. Her stomach flutters under my touch, and she gasps softly when I reach her sex. I keep the exploration light as I run the back of my fingers over her folds to where the curves of her ass press on the bench. Gently, I cup her pussy. She’s damp and warm, and I nearly groan as her slickness coats my palm.
She wants me.
Staring down at her face, I curl my middle finger and sink it into her heat. She’s tight. Perfect. Her lips part with a soft sigh, and her back arches. She’s showing me pleasure, but Ilya’s words harp at the back of my mind.
You didn’t give her a choice.
“You want this, Mina?” Her name is delicious, a soft sound on my tongue, a forbidden word I swore I wouldn’t utter again. But it’s a word made just for me. How can I not swallow it like honey?
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Why?”
“Do I need a reason?”
I give her a slow smile. “No.”
She whimpers when I withdraw my hand and leave a wet trail on her inner leg. I don’t need a reason for taking off my clothes, for getting hard for her, either. I take my time folding my pants and shirt, and placing everything neatly on the chair. I want to drag this out, but I already know I’m not going to last.
When I stop naked next to her, she swallows. There’s always this bit of nervousness in her eyes before I take her, as if every time is the first, every time new. I take a few moments to study her. The more I look, the more her unconventional beauty seeps under my skin. From the moment I noticed the femininity hidden under layers of baggy clothes, I wanted her. I wanted to see and feel every inch of her. Getting her naked once didn’t appease that desire. It only whetted my appetite. Her prettiness hits me harder each time I remove her clothes.
I trail my gaze over her short length. She’s so small and light, her body merely the narrow width of the bench. I could easily crush her with my bigger frame.
So breakable. So utterly at my mercy.
With no mattress to absorb my weight, I straddle the bench and pull her thighs over mine. In this position, I have the full advantage of the view, and I intend to make the most of it. I push her thighs wider and tilt my hips to find the right angle. When my cock nudges her entrance, she stiffens. I always hurt her a little. I can feel it from the way she tenses, but she doesn’t tell me to stop, and I can’t
