He pulled out and flipped me on my back, thrusting back inside me. My body shook with euphoria, pain, and pleasure. It was a delicious, heady mix and I reveled in it. His lip curled, his amber eyes glittering as he drew back. Just as he drove into me, his hand closed over my throat, pinning me against the pillow.
“Six, sir,” I said, barely audible.
His mouth hovered over mine. “I can’t hear you. Let’s do that again.”
I wailed aloud this time as he thrust home. He stayed all the way embedded in me, grinding against my clit. Pleasure pulsed once and stars lit up behind my eyelids as it crashed over me like a wave. My spine arced and my eyes screwed shut as I shook on his cock.
“Count for me,” he snarled.
“Six,” I whispered. “Sir.”
“That’s a good girl,” he purred, grinding into me harder as I finished around him with hot pulses. “You’ve got a sweet, little pussy that comes so easy when I fuck it.”
I didn’t have words anymore as my eyes locked with his, begging him soundlessly. He saw the desperation in them and he held back, his hips moving in sinuous movements. His stomach flexed, his body slick against the insides of my thighs. The room spun around us, a blur of the stone angel, the chandelier, and the dark wood ceiling.
“Why can’t I get you out of my head?” he breathed. “Why are you fucking with me like this, Lia? I don’t love you, but you’re always in my head. Every angel I’ve carved since our wedding night has your face and it tortures me. But every time I try to sleep, you’re right there. Taunting me with those fucking eyes. Those beautiful eyes, that perfect mouth. Fuck, and the way you come apart for me in the dark—I eat you alive every night and I’m still starving for you.”
Was he drunk? I clung to him, hoping he was drunk, but knowing he wasn’t.
“I want to fucking live inside you. I want to taste your sweat and your blood. I want to drink what’s between your legs.”
My heart thudded and my mouth went dry. Through the haze, I watched him thrust into me recklessly. As his lids flickered open, I saw deep, animal pleasure as he chased his orgasm. I felt it grow closer as I always did. I felt the hardening of him until pain sparked deep inside.
His breath came fast as he thrust one last time and stilled. Giving me everything he had left. His hips jerked and a hoarse moan burst from his mouth and he dropped his head to my breasts. A wave of satisfaction washed over me and my fingers slid up, cradling him against my body.
He kissed me softly between my breasts.
“Beautiful angel,” he praised.
He pulled me into his arms, rolling onto his back so I was laying across his chest. The last thing I remembered was his fingers stroking through my hair before I fell into oblivion.
The next morning, the bed was empty and there was a note not to wait for him for dinner. I spent the day at the academy and then I went home and ate ice cream in the library alone. My chest felt tender like he’d stomped all over it and thrown it in the trash on his way out the door. I went to bed and woke up to an empty room.
He didn’t come home for the next three days. I got a text from him every morning apologizing for not being there and letting me know he was working and wouldn’t be back. The pain in my chest was overwhelming. Why had he ever suggested letting Merrick touch me? And why had I thought it was a good idea for a man like Peregrine to try to share? I knew how possessive he was. I’d taunted him into it and he’d done exactly what I knew deep down he would.
He’d spiraled with jealousy.
My head was a whirlwind of the darkest thoughts. I turned on the shower and curled up beneath it and cried hard. The next day and the day after began the same way.
The Autumnal Feast was coming faster than I’d realized. I woke one morning a week later to an empty bed yet again. This time there was a list of instructions on my phone from Peregrine. The first was to meet with Mrs. Greene in the kitchen to talk over the food. I got up, showered, and put on jeans and a soft, pink sweater.
I padded downstairs in my socks with my wet hair braided down my back to find Mrs. Greene.
She was in the kitchen with Iris Esposito and Lorenza Barone. This time of year, they both wore cozy sweaters and jeans. Iris sipped on a cup of coffee and Lorenza had a bottled green shake she kept turning upside down and sloshing contemplatively.
“Morning,” Mrs. Greene said. “We’re going over the menu if you want to pull up a chair.”
“Where’s Olivia?” I asked.
“Very pregnant,” Iris said, passing me a mug. “She’s had some swelling so the doctor told her to put her feet up for a bit. Cream or sugar?”
“Just cream,” I said. “So have either of you been to one of these Autumnal Feasts?”
Irish blushed, which was strange because nothing bothered her. She was one of the most forthright people I’d ever met when it came to discussing uncomfortable subjects. Mrs. Greene suddenly made herself busy at the other side of the room, banging pots and pans. I frowned, looking around.
“What?”
“I haven’t gone,” said Lorenza. “It’s my first year.”