I think I hate her.
It makes no sense, but the resentment I’m grappling with is undeniable.
Ripping my shirt and vest off, I send the top hat flying across the open space. “Up.”
My curt command leaves her blinking in confusion. Draped on the ground like that, her breast still covered by her broken sheath, her wet core bared shamelessly, she’s ripe for a fucking.
That fact that I’m dying to give it to her drives me crazy. I’m no stranger to arousal, desire. This feels different. I want to own her, punish her, sink my own teeth into that supple flesh.
“Get up,” I repeat instead, mind roiling with confusion.
“Did I do something wrong?” Marie asks me in a voice that remains husky from her orgasm. She eases herself into a sitting position, then slowly onto her knees in front of me.
Yes! I want to shout, but I can’t even explain why. She’s perfectly delicious, made to be enjoyed. I should be ecstatic at the chance to have her, not infuriated like this. I jerk my head to the side, teeth grinding too hard to speak.
Thankfully, she understands my silent command and makes room for me.
By the time I’m laying in the spot she just vacated, I’ve shucked my pants across the ground. I lean back, head in my hands, and purposely display the length of my tattooed cock.
It’s standing straight up from my body, the veins highlighted in an almost grotesque display.
It’s the hardest I’ve ever been, in both my mortal and immortal lifetimes, but I’ll be damned if I let her know it.
I think I’m hoping to scare her with the sight. The gods know it has scared other females before her. Perhaps if her body—that body I’m dying to fuck in every wrong way possible—stops reacting to me with such gorgeous hunger, then I can get this entire reaction under control.
But Marie doesn’t cower easily, that’s a fact I’m beginning to admit, and she turns on her knees to face me fully. Her eyes travel up and down the length of me.
My erection, pitiful traitor that it is, bounces for her, weeping at the tip.
The hellion licks her lips and reaches out tentatively for it.
I tense from head to know, tattooed abs flexing in preparation for that touch.
I’m too hard.
Won’t be able to handle it.
Damn it, my balls have all but crawled back into my body from the force of this lust. I’m one stroke away from blowing.
I’ll be damned if it happens in this little mortal’s hand.
I issue another harsh demand. “No. Don’t touch it. Climb on it.”
Marie pulls back, staring at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Me? On top? You think I should lose my virginity on t—”
“Yes,” I cut her off. “I do. Do you want this exchange or not?” Stupid question. Apparently, her survival depends on her ability to quickly produce a child for her future husband. Her options are few, and this is her best one.
If I expect her to be put off, I’m about to be made a fool. A virgin the girl may be, but her spine is made of pure steel, and her ambitions and survival instinct are too large to discard.
She flips her braids over her shoulder, takes a deep breath, and swings a leg over my hips.
Chapter Four
No hesitation.
Marie must be feeling some level of nervousness, yet she hides it with admirable skill.
Straddling me, she stops short of sitting on my dick, her hands braced on my chest.
Her thighs seem even darker on either side of my pale, marked hips.
All I want is to grab her, knead her plump curves as she takes my cock inside her.
I intertwine my fingers behind my head to stop myself from touching her. “Come on, girl. I told you: we don’t have all night.”
Her eyebrow arches, expression hardening, and I have enough experience to at least recognize that look.
She’s biting back her own caustic retort.
Yet, when her eyes travel down my form, landing once again on my dick, it changes into something warmer.
Languid.
Marie wants the cock twitching before her, and in her mind she’s already having it, lost to whatever fantasy is currently playing out in her thoughts.
“Come on. Take it. I’m letting you own it for tonight.” Wrong choice of words there. I’ll come to regret offering her any type of ownership over it.
Over me.
Her throat bobs with another nervous swallow, but she rises a little higher on her knees and positions herself right above me. Suspended there for a few moments, she takes steadying breaths that echo in the quiet air around us.
My breaths echo, too, evidence of my lack of control here. Of how much I want her. “Marie,” I grit out, fighting the instincts telling me to flip her over, lift her leg over my shoulder, and plunge as deep into her as I can go.
“Calm yourself, brute. I’m getting there.”
Did she just call me a fucking brute?
I’ll show her a fucking brute.
I raise my head, hands moving to reach for—
Marie brings her lush cunt against my tip, and all I feel is heat and moisture.
And that impossibly tight hole she offered me.
I clench my jaw to hold back a moan.
My thoughts, my intentions . . . even my identity is scrambled, a show of pathetic weakness that will boggle my mind for centuries to come.
She’s the virgin, yet I’m the one acting like a novice.
As if hers is the first pussy I—
Again, she shatters my thought process, as her hips start to move in circles.
Rubbing me against her.
Teasing herself with me.
She isn’t even staring at my face; lids heavy, she’s trying to catch a glimpse of my cock as she uses it to play with her pussy. Wetness slides down the side of my length, a perfectly pearly drop.
Did it come from her or from me?
Both?
I hiss out a breath, and her gaze finally bounces up to my face.
“You feel so good,” Marie confesses in that husky voice, hips moving faster.
My nails dig into my palms. I’m going to grab her and break her apart if I don’t get myself together. My strength is mythical compared to hers, even with only twenty years of immortality under my belt. “Get me the fuck inside you and I’ll make you feel even better.”
“Tu es vraiment une brute vulgaire,” she tells me in flawless French.
I really am a vulgar brute?
No. Wait. More importantly: how did a slave like her learn to speak flawless French?
All my questions cease to matter as she begins trying to work me inside her. Nails digging into the muscles of my chest, she bites her lip and pushes past the pain. Each roll of her hips leaves me on the verge of shaking beneath her.
It takes her an interminable amount of time and, to my utter shame, I start praying.
Literally, honestly praying.
It doesn’t matter if I come, I remind myself, watching my erection begin to disappear into her. I’m immortal. I can recuperate in ways that would make mortal men envious. So what if I flood her with my seed now? I’ll have more to give her right after.
I can give it to her all night.
Biting my lip, I throw my head back on the ground and growl up toward the sky at the visual of her, well-fucked, satiated, with my seed dripping out of her. “Merde, bébé,” I whisper. “You better get me inside you now.”