The Devil's Broken Doll
****Excerpt****
“You see yourself as ordinary,” he said softly. “But entire worlds have crumbled and come apart for far less than a woman of your beauty.”
He pushed his horn further again, filling her another inch. Her flame flared white-hot behind her ribs. Begging, pleading, clawing.
“That’s it, my little whore. You like that, don’t you?” he preened against the corner of her mouth.
His voice hit her harder than the horn. Dirty, cruel, worshipful. The word whore sent heat spiralling down her spine, making her clench around the invasion. She hated the word. She loved how he said it.
“Please…” She started. He squeezed her throat, cutting off the rest of her words. Her breath hitched violently at the pressure, but she surrendered to the feeling.
“Unless you are about to beg me to fuck your ass harder with this horn, I don’t want to hear how you can’t take any more.” He growled, low and threatening. A wave of want crashed into her so hard she whimpered.
Adelaide should have been scared. In a way, she was. It wasn’t fear that made her heart pound, it was the terrifying realisation that she wanted exactly what he demanded. She wanted to feel the thickness of his horn deep inside her, wanted the stretch, the pain, the pleasure. She wanted all of what she knew he could give her.
She leaned her head back to run her tongue over the seam of his lips.
“Fuck me harder.” She said softly, the words barely a whisper. They carried the desperation, surrender, hunger, devotion, need. Her voice trembled with the weight of what she was giving him. Of what she was asking him to do to her.
He growled. The sound vibrated through her, deep and possessive.