Dammit!
I would expect my body to betray me. Isn’t that human nature? The cavemen who succeeded in continuing the species were the ones strong enough to drag a woman by her hair and force her to his will.
But my brain has always been rational, always worked to my best advantage. It’s the last part of me that I would expect to turn Benedict Arnold on my ass. Yet here I am, already imagining what that massive bulge pressing into my thigh would feel like, plunging right into me and fucking me senseless.
The worst part is, somewhere in there, where the last tiny beacon of rationality stays lit, I know I should be focused on the fact that Magnus at least suspects my ulterior motives. Does he know about Theo? What about the man in New York who sent me here?
That tiny beacon flickers and dies when Magnus lowers his head so that his mouth rests against my neck, just above my pulse.
“Tell me, Sloane, should I bite and put an end to this? Or are you going to finally tell me the truth.”
Just keep him interested and he’s yours.
Scheherazade would never give in too easily. I’ve got him hooked; I just have to keep him guessing.
“You bite me, and you’ll never get the truth.”
The teeth grazing across the thin skin of my neck come to a stop. Magnus rises up high enough to stare down at me.
“So you admit everything you’ve said so far is a lie?”
I dare him with my eyes. “Is it?”
“Keep pushing me, and you’ll find out just what I’m capable of, Sloane.”
He’s almost rabid with anger. Any other man would unleash it right away, but Magnus is far too much of a control freak for that.
Which gives me plenty to work with.
He’ll never get the truth out of me, not this easily, and certainly not when I have thirty-eight more days to work with.
Magnus’s eyes narrow with anger. “Fine then, let’s play.”
The hand on my breast disappears underneath the pile of fabric gathered at my waist. His fingers find the thin strip of lacy fabric and hook inside. Just as he so easily ripped my dress open, he rips my thong underwear, leaving it nothing but a useless rag covering absolutely nothing.
Those same fingers waste no time plunging into my pussy, which is wet enough to have Magnus chuckling in my ear.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this is the game you’ve been itching to play all night.”
“Bastard,” I hiss. It turns into a moan as he works his fingers in and out, spreading and curling them so that he strokes just the right parts of me.
My body once again defies me, reacting against my will. When his thumb comes out to stroke my clit, my mouth steps right up to the plate to start swinging for the stands in this game of ours.
“Magnus!”
“It’s too late to stop now, Sloane. You started this, and now you’re going to finish it.”
Even if I begged him to stop, he wouldn’t. Something depraved and twisted inside of me delights in that thought.
When his fingers vacate my pussy, my body arches with longing for something to replace them.
Not just something…his something.
I both feel and hear him undoing his fly. My eyes roll down to watch the action unfold. When he finally releases his dick—it’s just as impressive as my body told me it would be—my teeth gnash together, making me feel like a lioness savoring the kill.
But who is the predator here?
As though to answer the question for me, Magnus’s eyes capture mine, holding them hostage as he gives his final warning.
“I hope you’re on birth control because I’m not going to stop for a fucking condom. In fact, a part of me almost hopes you aren’t. I can’t imagine a more worthy woman to take my seed—a more worthy woman to carry my child.”
Of course I’m on birth control. As though Sloane Alexander wouldn’t be doubly prepared for any and every circumstance.
But that was the old Sloane, the one who took every precaution. The new one is feral and reckless enough to want to carry Magnus’ child, knowing that would forever tie me to this ruthless shark.
Scheherazade is slipping.
I’m supposed to be the one pulling the puppet strings here, not succumbing to the same base desire Magnus is falling into.
When I feel the fat head of his cock stroke my opening, hinting at the invasion that’s to come, I know he’s in command. Even if his control is as overcome with desire and need as I am, there’s no way I can spin a tale good enough to keep him from completely destroying me right now.
And hell if I don’t welcome it.
When he enters me, diving as far as my body will allow, almost to the point of pain, I buck my hips up, accepting every part of him.
“Yes,” he growls in my ear, claiming his victory over me.
Magnus lets go of my wrists, but it no longer matters. As he works his hips, fucking me harder and better than I’ve ever been fucked before, I know he’s the one spinning my tale for me. My sore wrists function just enough to allow my hands to cling to his bare back, fingers clawing their way across his skin.
I’m sure I’ve drawn blood, but it only seems to encourage Magnus to screw me that much harder.
“You think you can invade my world and proclaim yourself queen? I’m not that easy Sloane. I’ll ruin you, destroy you.”
If he’s trying to scare me away, he’s going about it all wrong.
“So do it,” I say, smiling up at him.
Scheherazade is back in full force.
Lara was only half right. Sex is too easy. That doesn’t mean I can’t use it as a tool to get my story across. Magnus doesn’t have the full truth yet.
The first flicker of doubt hits me as he matches my smile with a grin, so sinister and taunting, I sense the trap before it snaps closed
