“Focus, Adeline. What does power feel like?”
I release another shaky breath and speak before I can think too deeply about it. “It makes me feel good.”
“Good,” he murmurs. “I want you to think about that feeling. In your mind, hold that gun to whoever you wish. To me. To any of the men that hurt you. Whatever makes you feel good.”
I close my eyes, and the first person that comes to mind is Xavier. He’s kneeling before me, begging for his life. I can still feel the heavy metal in my hand, but unlike just minutes before, my hand is perfectly still. No violent tremors rack my body as I hold Xavier’s life in my hands.
I press the gun to his head, relishing in the pleas spilling from his lips. And I pull that fucking trigger.
“Now feel between your legs,” Zade whispers, sensing how my breath has escalated for an entirely different reason.
Slowly, my hand reaches down, swiping between my legs. Moisture gathers on my fingers, and I’m surprised enough by the revelation that I completely forget about everything else. For just a moment, I bask in the fact that I’m aroused.
My breath falters, and shame filters in, but Zade senses that, too. With my throat still seized in his hand, he turns his head until his lips brush against the shell of my ear.
Warm breath skates across the side of my face as he whispers roughly, “Do you know how hard my cock gets when I think about all the ways I’m going to slowly torture the men that hurt you?”
I open my mouth, but no sound escapes. They evaporate on my tongue when Zade rolls his hips into my back, the evidence of his words digging into my lower spine.
It should repulse me. But it doesn’t. And I clutch ahold of that feeling while it’s there. I don’t care if it’s fucked up, it feels so much better than the constant agony.
I close my mouth and nod, acquiescing to the thoughts as the shame recedes.
“I’m going to touch your hand now,” he whispers.
He keeps my throat in his grip while his free hand reaches up and wraps around mine, the rose still clenched in my fist. He squeezes tight, forcing the sharp thorns to spear my hand.
I inhale sharply, hissing between my teeth before gritting them against the pain. And then he guides our hands down until the soft petals brush against my pussy.
My eyes shutter as he glides the petals up and down, coating the rose in my arousal. I feel the blood rising to my cheeks as he lifts it again and presents the dripping flower to me.
“Zade…”
Blood trails down my arm as he releases my throat to grab my other hand and bring it to the rose, guiding my fingers across the petals.
“Do you feel how soft and wet these petals are?” he whispers. Licking my lips, I nod my head slowly. “This is what I feel every time I’m inside you.”
Fuck, you feel like hea-
“Hold on to that feeling of power, baby. Don’t let go of it.”
I’ve tensed up again; my muscles strung tight. Shuddering, I shove out the intrusive voice and replace it with the image of pointing a gun to their head. Steady, and calmly as I pull the trigger.
I relax as he pushes my middle and ring fingers into the center of the rose, just like he would if it were my pussy.
The pain needling throughout my hand fades as a deep-seated pleasure takes hold. For the first time in so long, I feel sensuality and eroticism as I continue to push my fingers in and out of the rose, Zade’s own fingers held over mine.
I feel the pressure building in my core, desperate for some type of release. Different faces flash through my mind like a movie reel, all of them meeting the same demise. The pressure between my legs grows and grows until I’m sure just one touch of my fingers would send me over the edge.
“Zade,” I plead, though I don’t know what I’m asking for.
“Tell me what you need,” he says, continuing our movements with the rose.
“I… Touch me.”
“Don’t stop feeling this rose,” he orders softly. I nod, my stomach clenching when he reaches between my legs.
The softest brush of his fingers nearly makes my eyes cross. I plunge in and out of the rose as his middle finger presses into my clit and starts circling the swollen bud.
My back arches and I can’t stop the high-pitched moan that escapes as raw bliss rolls through me.
I force myself to feel Zade-to feel that a man is touching me. Making me feel good. And that I’m enjoying every second of it. And then I push those other men from my mind and think only of the one wrapped around me.
I don’t want to come with the images of the depraved monsters that stole from me, even if I’m blowing their heads off. I only want to see the man that’s given me everything. A beast who has bent my will to succumb to him yet has shown me the true meaning of love and devotion.
“Zade,” I mewl as the orgasm crests. I hear him hiss through his teeth as he circles my clit faster. He still has his other hand wrapped around mine, the stem clenched in my grip. He flexes his fist, forcing the sharp thorns deeper into my flesh. The pain swirls with the heady pleasure and a hoarse shout rings out.
Rivulets of blood continue to trail down my arm, dripping off my elbow and onto my stomach. I look down, watching the streams of red aim towards where Zade touches me.
My mouth parts, the euphoria spiking as I watch him. His hand is fucking massive, with long fingers, thick veins laced throughout, seeming to pulse as he rubs my clit.
It’s so erotic that I can’t hold on any longer. I cry out as I finally let go, the orgasm crashing into me so hard that I nearly come off the floor from the power of it.
Zade growls, cupping my pussy as I ride the waves, my hips rolling against his hand while his name fills the air around us.
I feel him tensing beneath me, but I’m too lost to care. I’m too desperate for this feeling to never end.
We both drop the rose simultaneously, and I don’t stop to consider what I’m doing when I reach back, grab ahold of Zade’s face with both hands, and guide his lips down onto mine.
A deep rumble vibrates through his chest, and he once more seizes the underside of my jaw, granting us both a better angle as he devours me.
His tongue lashes against my own, tasting me until my lips are bruised and raw, and the orgasm has long since faded.
Yet the bliss remains. For the first time in months, those wicked men didn’t plague my thoughts. I didn’t hear their voices. Their laughter, and their cruel jokes.
And my body feels so much lighter because of it.
Finally, he pulls away, and all I can do is stare up at him in wonder-the person responsible for chasing away the monsters in my head.
They’ll come back, but Zade isn’t going anywhere either.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He closes his eyes and brushes his lips against mine softly.
“You’ll always be safe with me, little mouse. Always.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.