Page 196 of Nightshade

“Oh, come now. You want more than that, Farryn. Think of how good you felt the last time and try again.”

“I want ...”

“Say it.”

“I want your cum.”

“Where?”

“Inside of me.”

The scent of bitter anise on his breath had my mouth watering for a kiss, as he took my earlobe between his teeth. “Tu’Nazhja, I’m going to fill you up with centuries of pent-up tension. Until it’s spilling out of your eager little cunt and soaking the sheets. And you’re going to enjoy every second of it.”

At the sound of his zipper, I squirmed in my binds, my body anxious and desperate at the same time. The tip of his cock met my entrance, and on contact with my skin, the vibrations danced over my flesh.

I let out a grunt, the unyielding pillow pressed hard against my belly, as he leaned over me. At the same time he pushed up inside of me, his teeth sank down hard into my shoulder. Both sensations clashed inside my head, a potent cocktail of pleasure and pain that rippled through me on a bone-deep shudder. His teeth held me still as he railed into my body from behind, every thrust tinged with just enough anger to feel as if he were punishing me.

Confirmed, when he gritted out, “Don’t ever try to escape me again, Farryn. I will find you. Every fucking time.”

Knots pulsed inside of me, the pinnacle of ecstasy just out of reach. His hand pressed into the nape of my neck, pinning me to the mattress. His hips pounded into me.

My body wound tight, so tight. The lack of air from the mattress sent a dizzy sensation to my head.

Starved for oxygen, I gasped and moaned. Fingers snaked between the crack of my ass, and he pressed his thumb over the forbidden ring of muscle, tickling me with soft strokes. Drool leaked from my lips, captured by the soft cotton that dampened my face. The sensations clashed together, exploding inside my head, and I screamed into the thick duvet. Just as before, an inviting combination of heat and the tiny quivering vibrations filled me so thickly, I felt the mess dribble down the back of my thighs, where it tickled my muscles there. Pulse after pulse had me screaming, curling my fingers, rolling my belly over the pillow beneath my hips. Every muscle in my body shook, and when he finally released my neck, allowing me a sip of air, I let out a long, droning sigh of satisfaction.

Jericho didn’t remove himself from inside of me. He remained hard and lodged, still stirring the wicked concoction he’d released into me.

The soft rocking against me told me he wasn’t finished with me. Oh, God.

“Wait, please,” I said on a ragged breath.

“My appetite for you is insatiable. I want more. Always more.” He removed the pillow from beneath me, allowing me to turn over onto my back and unravel my twisted arms. A gentle hand caressed my face, his eye so focused and swirling with the kind of adoration meant for a queen. “Lie still, Tu’Nazhja. It’s going to be a long night.”

* * *

The incessant sound of thumping roused me from sleep. I opened my eyes to the flicker of the lantern still propped on the table and a cuff dangling from the ceiling overhead. My arms felt heavy, tingling, and I wriggled my fingers to keep them from going numb. It was then I remembered where I was and groaned. Beside me, the bed lay empty, and I lifted my head, searching the dimly lit room for Jericho.

The sound of soft moans reached my ears. Soft, feminine moans coming from the other side of the door.

“Mmm. Baby, you feel so good. I missed you.” Evie’s voice rose over the thumps on the wall.

Good grief. As if being chained and immobile wasn’t bad enough, I had to listen to her all night outside my door? Groaning, I stared up at the cuffs attached to the posts, studying them. I might’ve been able to climb up and loop them over the top, if not for the wooden canopy overhead. When I lowered my gaze, my eyes caught on the empty half of the bed again, where Jericho had fallen asleep earlier.

Her moans heightened. The thumping grew louder, more intense. Harder to ignore, and I turned away from it, as much as my shackled arms would allow.

Until, at last, the thumping finally ceased and I rolled my eyes on hearing Evie climax. Regardless of what Jericho had said about no one hearing anything in the undercroft, her obnoxious scream probably woke the dead.

The door clicked open, and Evie stepped inside, her hair mussed and the neckline of her dress hanging off her shoulders.

“Wrong room.” The minor humiliation of lying helpless and tied to the bed was quickly smothered when I caught sight of what she carried as she crossed the room.

In her hand, she twirled a long black feather, dragging the tip of it across her face. Jericho’s?

A black winter rage curled in the pit of my gut at the thought.

No.

He wouldn’t.