God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1) by Rina Kent

“You didn’t deserve that orgasm after the stunts you pulled today.” He wrenches his fingers out of me and I refuse to recognize the emptiness that takes hold of me.

I refuse to recognize the need for more pulsing inside me.

“If you scream or call for help, I’ll make your brother watch you getting fucked. Do you hear me?”

Bitter tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them loose as he releases my mouth but fists my hair.

“Fuck you,” I spit out.

“That foul mouth only gets my cock hard, baby. So if you have any more insults to get off your chest, by all means.”

“You’re the one who pulled the stunts first by posting that picture.”

“The world needed to know you’re mine. I won’t apologize for that. In fact, I’d do it again and earlier so no one would entertain the idea of having you.”

“Let me guess, because only you can?”

“You guessed correctly.”

“I’ll never, ever choose to be with you.”

“News flash. You already are.”

“Not by choice.”

“Don’t fucking care.” He tugs on my hair. “And you’re pushing it. Your pussy will pay the price for that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t like being told hard truths?”

“You’re the one who doesn’t. You were pissed off even before you found out about the picture because I told you facts your little moral compass doesn’t approve of.” He shoves me down against the counter and I buck, but he pins me in place by the nape, so I have no choice but to hold on to the edge of the marble. “But here’s the thing, I’m not going to lie to protect your fragile little emotions. What’s so fucking special about emotions anyway? You think you’re great because you have them? Here’s the thing, you see me and you’ll continue to fucking see me, Glyndon. Empty shell, devil side, and all.”

He’s mad. No, probably enraged.

I’ve started to notice that he only calls me by my name when he’s angry.

The sound of his zipper echoes in the bathroom, followed by a slap on my arse cheek. I yelp, but it’s drowned by a moan when he enters me from behind.

I’m supposed to be sore, but the moment he’s fully sheathed inside me, I let out a small whimper.

“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of this,” he murmurs with obvious lust, then thrusts inside me with the rhythm of a madman.

I want the earth to open up and swallow me rather than feel the onslaught of both pleasure and pain.

All of a sudden, he tugs my head up by the hair and makes me stare at the stranger in the mirror.

Killian is behind me, tall like a god and sinister like the devil. His face is hard, his features dark with both lust and domination.

And me?

I’m bent over, being used and abused and utterly dominated by him, but instead of pain, my eyes shine with erotic pleasure. My lips are parted, and my nostrils are flaring.

His hold on my hair makes the scene even more disturbing. Wrong.

Carnal.

“Look at how much you want this, baby. You’re about to cry for it.” He slows his rhythm but deepens it until my hip bone hits the edge of the counter. “Next time, you don’t question that you’re mine, you don’t go around ghosting me for it, and you sure as fucking fuck do not push me away. Is that clear?”

I dig my nails into the marble, feeling every stroke, every burst of pleasure inside.

His teeth meet the flesh of my throat and he bites down, so hard that I shriek.

“Is that fucking clear, Glyndon?”

“No…” I glare at him in the mirror and he bites the spot next to it.

A sob leaves me this time, but the onslaught of pain adds to the friction his cock causes.

“We’ll try again. Is that fucking clear?”

“I don’t want to be yours.”

“Not your call to make.”

“I don’t want to lose myself,” I admit, tears gathering in my cheeks.

“You won’t.”

“How would I know? You’re getting your way with me.”

“It’s up to you whether I punish you and you don’t enjoy it or I actually bring you pleasure.” He rolls his hips and hits a spot inside me that whitens my vision for a brief second. “Say you’re mine, baby.”

I purse my lips, but the fight in me is long gone. I still murmur. “I’ll never be yours.”

“Terrible fucking mistake.” His rhythm turns berserker and it’s intense, so intense that I cry.

So intense that I wish I could die and orgasm at the same time.

But he makes me come again and again, demanding that I say the words.

I don’t.

He could kill me and I fucking wouldn’t.

This is the last part I have of myself, and I vehemently refuse to hand it over.

He said he wouldn’t lie to me.

I will.

Until he finally lets me go.





27





GLYNDON





I never knew life could be this hectic, absolutely foreign, and downright…surreal.

It’s been a week since Killian fucked me against the bathroom counter—or more like punished me.

He’s been punishing me ever since.

Yes, he lets me come, even goes as far as making me beg for an orgasm, and while he takes pleasure in satisfying me, he also likes proving his domination and the fact that he holds all the cards.