How can I possibly be turned on by this? I hate him. I hate him for making me so confused and turning me into his pet because he has no heart. That anger blackens every cell in my body and turns into a raging pit of lava in my stomach. At some point, it all bubbles to the surface, spewing from my lips like a volcano. I call him every nasty word I can think of, and when that does nothing, I resort to my baser, childlike instincts.
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
He laughs, thrusting his fingers into the slippery mess between my thighs.
“You hate me?” His voice is rough and hungry, and it does something to my insides, twisting them up until I’m so unhinged, I can’t think straight. “I think your body disagrees, Ella. Don’t toy with me, or you’ll discover exactly what all ten inches of my royal cock feels like when I bury it deep inside you. Your first time can be gentle or rough. The choice is yours.”
That notion terrifies the rebellion right out of me.
“Okay, fine,” I blurt. “I’m a virgin! Are you happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” he growls, an undercurrent of primal possession in his tone. “You just bought yourself a few days. But don’t expect that means you’ll be lying around relaxing.”
I don’t know what he means by that until he unceremoniously dumps me onto the carpet and makes himself comfortable on the edge of the bed.
“Have you ever sucked a cock?” He stares down at me as he unzips his trousers.
“No.” I swallow, my eyes darting to the massive bulge between his thighs.
“So innocent,” he murmurs. “When this week is through, gudinne, you’ll know how to suck cock like it’s your sole purpose in life. Now fetch mine.”
I freeze, my eyes on his, and I can’t bring myself to do it. More than anything, I think I’m scared to see it. I knew this was coming when I agreed to our deal, but I was brave this morning, and now, between his spread thighs, my courage has abandoned me.
“Fetch my cock,” he orders, the muscles in his throat working. “Or I’ll get it myself and shove it down your throat.”
His threat spurs me into action, and my fingers shake as they graze the black briefs peeking out from his open zipper. When his heat radiates into my palm, I gasp, and Thorsen groans. It catches me off guard, but when I look up at him, his eyes are liquid pools of fire, and I can see something in them I didn’t before. He wants this. He wants it so badly his whole body is ablaze beneath my touch. It’s something I didn’t expect, and the power is intoxicating.
My fingers curl around the cotton fabric and gradually slip the band down, unveiling his royal manhood. And though I have nothing to compare it to, I’m fairly certain the hulking beast of flesh pointing directly at my face isn’t normal by any standards. As if Thorsen can read my mind, he strokes my hair, gentle again, while he murmurs his only assurance.
“You’ll get used to it.”
I can’t be sure whether it’s curiosity or contempt that has me reaching out to pet the large cock on display. His skin is so soft it surprises me. I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t this silky flesh wrapped around the steely girth.
“Taste it,” he orders, his voice hoarse.
When I hesitate, he cups the back of my head and urges me forward. I lick my lips, opening them just as his cock bumps against my teeth.
Thorsen tangles his fingers into the long strands of my hair, but to my relief, he gives me room to explore this on my own. I’ve read plenty of Lavinia’s women’s magazines before. There were always quizzes and tips about spicing up the bedroom. But it was more of a form of entertainment than actual study for me, and now, suddenly, I’m aware that my execution won’t be as smooth as he probably anticipates. When I look up, I expect to find disappointment on his face, but to my surprise, all I see is hunger reflected at me along with a growing level of impatience.
I wrap my hand around the thick base, and his cock throbs in my palm as I draw the head forward and smooth it over my lips. It’s salty and musky, and I’m not sure what to think of it, but when Thorsen rumbles his approval, it spurs me on.
My tongue darts out and swirls around the head, and his entire body contracts beneath me. His muscles are so taut it feels like I’m leaning into a brick wall. When I peek up at him, his lips are parted in what I can only describe as visceral pleasure.
“Keep going.” He twists his grip on my hair, harnessing his restraint, and it occurs to me that’s what this really is. If he had his way, he’d already have his cock lodged into my throat, pumping away at my face. The image makes my nipples tight, and I try not to think too much about the reasons as I slip his cock past my lips and draw the tip farther into my mouth.
My illusion of control swiftly disintegrates when Thorsen palms the back of my head and forces himself deeper with a groan. Panic makes me dig my nails into his trousers as my eyes water, and I fight the urge to gag. Just when I’m convinced this is how I’m going to die… with a cock in my throat… he pulls back and allows me to take a breath.
“You’re so pretty, min gudinne.” He massages my jaw beneath his fingers. “I’m going to wreck you.”
I whimper as he drags my mouth back to his cock, gentler this time, easing me into a comfortable rhythm as my lips glide over his shaft. Thorsen closes his eyes, his fingers going lax in my hair, and for the briefest of seconds, I catch a glimpse of him not as a monster, but a man. A man who’s been starving for this.
Logically, I know it doesn’t make any sense. He could get any woman he wants, asshole or not. In Lavinia’s own words, he’s hot, rich, and royal. Nothing else matters to a lot of the women he comes across, I’m sure. And at this moment, as I kneel before him, worshipping his royal cock, I actually feel a fraction of sympathy for him.
What kind of life he must live, never knowing who to trust. Is this why he came for me? He saw my weakness, and he exploited it, but is it because he’s tired of being exploited too? I shake away those thoughts and suck him harder, deeper. His grunts of pleasure are my reward, and I don’t know why my body seems to respond every time I hear them.
I keep reminding myself that I’m not here because I want to be. But those lines become blurred when Thorsen’s fingers kiss my face, playing me like an instrument only he understands. His eyes are fixated on me when his body goes rigid, his cock pulsating while his grip intensifies.
“Deeper,” he urges, but it isn’t a request. It’s a command, followed by him forcing his cock into the back of my throat and holding me there as he growls, hot jets of come shooting into my mouth.
I gag, and he softens his grip, withdrawing his cock and leaving me to wipe my face as he studies me. I rub my jaw, peeking up at him as I swallow the last of his release, and in his eyes, I recognize his confusion. But I can’t understand the cause of it. Whatever relief he may have felt at the moment has been replaced by a renewed tension.
“Do better next time.” He tucks himself away and zips his trousers back up, standing abruptly. “You’ll have the week to practice until your patch is in effect.”
“Patch?” I question.
But he doesn’t acknowledge me. He’s already walking toward the door.