Page 114 of King of Ashes
Vian knew how much he meant to me, and I wonder if his sick love triggered my father’s death because he wanted me all to himself. It could be, but I refuse to waste another thought on him.
I rip the shirt off him, scattering the buttons in every direction, just as I wish to do with my pain. Scraping my fingers down his chest, I mark him with fresh, angry red lines when the last ones have barely faded.
His throat rumbles with a deep groan, the sexy sounds causing the ache between my legs to intensify. How easily he can soothe that constant throbbing. My body caring only for its shallow pleasure.
I end up walking backward, following his lead, like he’s the master and I am only a puppet on his strings—helpless. Reaching the bedroom, he pushes me onto the bed, and I fall back. Fall into the abyss, but I won’t hit rock bottom again. I survived him once. I will do it again. A hundred times if I need to.
His loving gaze meets mine. I itch to gouge out his eyes and wear them as a token around my neck. A surge of rage blinds me for a second before I regain my composure, remembering the stakes.
Fool him, just like he fooled me. Play him like he played me.
I peer into his deep blue eyes. The longer I stare into them, the more I drown in him, suffocating, though even death would be more merciful than loving him.
“You know what is sad?” I whisper, overcome by potent emotions.
A line digs between his brows, concern etched into his features. “What, mi sol?” he asks softly, that side reserved only for me, just to torture me more, I guess.
“Love hurts.”
“Does my love hurt you, or you loving me?”
My eyes tear up, wetting my cheeks. “Both.”
He cups my face, pressing his forehead to mine. “Talk to me. Let me in. You’ve been keeping me out. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
I shake my head, scratching at his hands to let me go, only to sink my fingers into him. “Not tonight. Make love to me tonight. Show me how much you love me.”
Show me how deep your betrayal runs, let me feel it in my marrow, so my hate can cement itself there.
He’s about to move, sensing something is wrong, but this is my show, and it will go accordingly. That stupid girl in love,who saw him as her everything, needs this night with him to say goodbye.
I was done with him the day I returned and wanted to stab him with the letter opener.
“I’ll die loving you,” he says, gripping my waist and lathering my chest in kisses, hot, wet, messy.
A fresh wave of tears gathers in my eyes, and I hate him even more for being such a spectacular actor. I dissociated to survive, but what is he? A damn sociopath.
He wraps his lips around my nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. For a moment, there is nothing but bliss. For a moment, my world is fine. For a moment that passes way too soon, I hold on to the dream, knowing the nightmare will follow.
My hands fly over his back, gliding down the firmness of his sculpted body, and his hard ass––a hot marble statue I breathe life into with every kiss.
His body moves into a maddening rhythm, bringing me so much pleasure, I slip into euphoria while hell awaits me.
Because of him.
The stupid man who thought wiping my memories would be a good idea when his cock does a fantastic job.
This stupid man with whom I felt safe while he took me apart in the best way possible.
The stupid man who I thought was my home when he was the reason I lost mine.
The stupid man who makes me cry while simultaneously pleasuring me.
I am a physical and emotional mess as he kisses me, bringing me to an alternate reality with every thrust. I let go, embracing madness.
Not wanting him to stop, I hold on to him, kissing him with every fractured piece of my heart. I need him to make love tome until one of us dies, and then everything else won’t matter anymore.
Pushing my leg up, I hike it over his thigh, and from this angle, he goes even deeper inside me. I cry out half in ecstasy, half in agony, whispering his name like a sin I want to be absolved of.
