Tempted by Deception (Deception Trilogy #2) by Rina Kent

“No…never…”

“Lia…don’t make me break you.”

“You’ll break me more if I say those words,” I sob, all of my pain receptors pulsing at the same time.

He slaps me again and I wail, my body wiggling sideways, but he holds me down by the hair. “Say you’re mine.”

“No.”

Slap. “Say. It.”

My tears soak the pillow and I feel like I might pass out. Like his next strikes will knock me out cold. But they don’t. All they manage to do is torture my ass and core. He’s using his hand now, but my skin is so tender and stimulated that even the merest hit reverberates through my whole body.

“Stop it…Adrian…please…”

“Not until you say you’re mine.” His voice is harsh, non-negotiable.

“I can’t…” I sob.

“Yes, you can.”

“No! You’ve taken so much from me already. I will not hand you my last pieces. So if you want to whip me to death, do it. I will not say those words, even with my last breath.”

I expect him to do what I suggested just to prove a point, but Adrian releases a long exhale and throws the belt away. The sound it makes as it hits the floor sends a small jolt through my chest.

A rustling of clothes comes from behind me and I can imagine him getting rid of his shirt and pants.

He wraps a hand around my jaw and lifts me up using it. The utter possession and the haunting darkness in the gesture leaves me panting. “I’m going to fuck you as my wife and you’re going to scream for me.”

Adrian plants his knee between my legs and holds me by the hip as his cock forces its way inside, his chest covering my back at the same time so that his head is mere inches away from mine. Despite being wet and more than ready, his entrance into my body always hurts like it’s the first time. My backside burns when his groin slaps against it.

“Ahhh…that hurts…”

“Not more than your fucking stubbornness, apparently.”

“Adrian…”

“What?”

“Do something.”

“Like this?” He reaches underneath me and twists my swollen clit.

“Ohhh…”

“Or this?” He thrusts inside me, and even though his groin still hits against my tortured skin, it adds friction and a carnal type of pleasure.

“Yes…ohhh…yes…”

“That’s it,” he murmurs against my mouth, his eyes hooded. “Moan for me. Let me hear that throaty sound that’s made only for me.”

That’s when it clicks.

Adrian has always loved it when I release sounds during sex. It seems to get him harder and his pace builds up to a maddening level, like right now. The slap of flesh against flesh and my own arousal echoes in the air as he holds my eyes and everything in me hostage.

But even as he confiscates my body, as he steals it from me, there’s just one thing I can steal from him in return.

I’m breathing harshly when he moves at a pace that he knows will get me off. But when the orgasm hits with wrecking force, I bite my lower lip so hard, metal explodes on my tongue.

Adrian’s monstrously beautiful face contorts and I hold his gaze as I mute the sounds he loves to hear so much.

He took away my freedom. I’m taking away his pleasure.

Adrian might have started as the only one with power, but I’m slowly finding mine. I might not have guns or an army of guards, but I’ll kill him with silence.

His hold tightens on my jaw as he stills at my back and warm liquid fills my walls.

He pulls out of me, but just so he can slam back in with renewed energy.

Oh, God. How could he get hard again this soon? Usually, he gets hard fast, but not this fast.

“We’ll have a redo, and this time, you’ll fucking scream, Lia.”

“Never,” I mutter.

“Then we’ll go at this all night until you do. You’ll bow to me, wife.”

Not in this life, husband.





28





Lia





A month later, the cast has been removed and Adrian and I are at Dr. Kim’s office to start my rehabilitation so that I can walk again.

I don’t bother asking the doctor if the verdict about the impossibility of a full recovery is still the same. He’s looking at me as if I were a kicked puppy, relaying the words without having to utter them. I’m going to move beyond it, though, because I have another life to worry about now.

Before we left the house this morning, I stood in front of the mirror to get dressed and I was caught in a trance by my stomach. It’s still flat, but I can feel the baby more with each passing day.

The life that’s been making itself marginally unnoticeable is finally peeking out, reminding me of why I’m here in the first place.

To produce an heir.

And while the objectification, the coercion, and the humiliation still hurt, I don’t regret the child. This baby is the one thing that’s making me hold on to life, surviving day to day, knowing that I’m not living for myself alone anymore.

I’m going to be a mother. And if mine was any indication, mothers sacrifice for their children. Mothers protect their children from the monstrosities of the world, with their lives if they have to.