My mouth was dry. Tangled in the hot confusion of our bodies between the sheets, I was finding it hard to remember what words were or how to use them. He bent and took my right breast in his hand and lifted it to his mouth. My spine arced as he sank his teeth into the soft flesh until it stung like fire.
“I’m your property,” I whispered.
He released me with a heavy growl, but his fingers still dug into my breast. “Now I’m going to show you who owns this body and this wet, little pussy.”
My brain buzzed like he’d injected me with a drug. He pulled out and wrapped his hard hand around my throat, pressing me into the pillows. In the dark, all I could see was the outline of his body and the glitter of his eyes. Bending over me like an animal waiting to consume me whole.
“Peregrine,” I breathed.
“You’re so wet for me, kitten,” he whispered, his voice dark and sinuous from the shadows. “I would never have guessed you like it like this.”
I would never have guessed it either, but here I was limp in his hand, waiting for him to thrust into me and take me completely once more. His grip tightened and the darkness swirled and writhed.
“I don’t need you,” he spat softly. “But I fucking love owning your silky, little cunt. And you love it, kitten, you love the way I make you mine. Say it—tell me you’re my property.”
“I’m your property,” I panted, my chest aching.
He flipped me onto my stomach and mounted me from behind. The heavy, muscled heat of his body took my breath away. His grip closed around the nape of my neck and he rode my hips with increasing force. I gasped and he went harder, pressing me down until my clit rubbed against the sheets. For a moment, there was nothing but his heavy breaths and the building pleasure in my hips. Then I came in a sudden ripple and surge and a harsh cry. He felt it and his thrusts increased, pounding into me until I had to clench my jaw to keep from biting myself.
“Yes,” he breathed. “You feel me break you down?”
My hips shuddered. The bed creaked and slammed against the wall. Surely the others could hear us. The thought sent a delirious wave of arousal through my exhausted body. He clearly didn’t care as he drove into me, chasing that high with wild abandon.
He was approaching his climax. I felt the pressure increase until it was almost too much. Pain rippled through my shoulder as his teeth sank into my flesh. My cry of surprise sent him spiraling into his release. His groan was hot in my ear and his hips bucked, riding me through his pleasure. Sinewy and desperate, he emptied himself inside me with a harsh, animal moan.
My chest ached. He’d gotten what he’d wanted, he’d made his feelings toward me crystal clear. Now there was nothing but our limp bodies, tangled up in the darkness. Mine empty and hoping for regret. His trembling with something I didn’t recognize.
Something desperate.
Cold air hit my back as his warm body left mine. Aching, I rolled onto my side and gathered the blankets over my body. The bed shifted and he was gone for a moment and then he drew me onto my back. His hard hands pushed my thighs open and a warm, wet washcloth slid over my sex. Cleaning away the traces of what he’d done to me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
PEREGRINE
After the meal was done and the women had gone upstairs, we went to the living room. There was bourbon and wine at the bar in the corner. Lucien ignored the drinks and took a seat in the armchair by the couch. He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, as if he were fully relaxed. I’d been his diplomat for long enough to know this was the part where he was trying to put Merrick at ease.
I knew my role in this scenario. I was to be the charming one with all the smooth words. The one who watched Merrick for weakness. Although I was starting to have my doubts that he had any obvious cracks in his steel armor. He hadn’t gained a reputation as one of the most powerful men in the eastern United States for nothing.
“Your wives are very pleasant. And very beautiful,” Merrick remarked, settling into the armchair opposite Lucien. “Especially yours, Peregrine.”
I hovered at the back of the couch, all my senses on high alert. “Thank you.”
“Lucien told me you haven’t been married long and that it was a short engagement,” Merrick said. “Forgive my presumption, but are there congratulations in order?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Rosalia and I didn’t marry for love or because she’s pregnant. It’s a lot less interesting than that. I wanted my inheritance and she wanted someone to pay the bill for her education.”
“I see. Does she sing?”
“Yes, she’s classically trained.”
“I thought she might be. She carries herself, she breathes, like it.”
So I hadn’t imagined him looking at her, watching her like a patient wolf. I leaned on the back of the couch, keeping my eyes on him. He had the most daunting energy, a focused calmness that unsettled me.
“Are you married, Merrick?” Cosimo asked, flopping down on the far end of the couch.
Merrick shook his head. “No, I don’t have much time for it. My role in the organization isn’t conducive to family life.”