“Please punish me.” There was no hesitation. The words fell from my lips the minute he demanded it.
He laughed, rumbling and low. “Too fucking bad, little slave. You’re mine. I’ll use you however the fuck I want.” I groaned then caught the glint in his eye. This was his punishment: making me admit my need, making me beg, then having him deny it.
His grin widened. Before I could protest his punishment, he plunged his fingers inside me.
I still wasn’t sure where we were. Maybe we were in New York, or maybe we’d driven to Maine. All I saw when I looked outside the windows was black. They were tall, pristine windows with no curtain coverage, and as Anteros fucked his fingers into me, I wondered if anyone could see.
Anteros gripped my chin, pulling my gaze back to his. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing.” At my response, he plunged a fourth finger inside, filling me with a painful but pleasurable stretch. “Just wondering where we are,” I groaned. “If anyone can see—see us!” The words caught on a breath as he worked a hard and fast inside rhythm inside me. He laughed darkly and grazed his teeth along my neck. Then he bit.
“Dirty girl,” he said. “Do you want someone to see us?” The idea had goose bumps peppering my skin, but I didn’t respond. He turned my head back to the window, hand on my neck keeping it in place.
“Do you like the idea of someone watching me fuck you, Frankie?” His words were like wine, twisting into my body, getting me loose and intoxicated. “Do you want to spread your legs for everyone to see?” he rumbled, biting my earlobe, dragging the skin with his teeth. I moaned, hands reaching for his waist, groping his slick flesh. As if I couldn’t help it, my legs fell open even farther.
He laughed. “Who are you spreading your legs for? Trying to get them as far open as possible so everyone can see your cunt?” I whimpered when he slid one finger from inside to stretch my lips farther apart. The air tickled my parted flesh so I knew I was on display. “Do you want them to see you come?” I whimpered again, body alight with tingles. Anteros laughed and said, “I fucking knew you liked it. You got so fucking wet at the warehouse.” He was talking about the night he showed me off to his Wolves. It had been so horrifying, but he was right. I did like it.
His teeth raked against my neck, my ear, my chest. His hands were in my hair, on my arms, on my waist. His words were a powerful beat in my blood.
Then his fingers were gone, but before I could miss them, Anteros was inside me. Thick. Hot. So perfect. Exactly what I needed. My vision blurred. My heart ratcheted. I was barely aware of where I was.
“Oh fuck, Frankie,” Anteros groaned. “I can feel you coming.” I closed my eyes, giving in to the feeling. Blood so hot I felt it to the tips of my toes, melting in between my thighs, bursting through the skies on butterfly wings of pleasure until my sighs became cries. Earlier I’d thought I would die, and now I was so alive it was painful.
When it was over, my eyelids fluttered open. The lights above us were so bright, the fur beneath my skin so soft, and Anteros was hot, delicious against my skin.
“People can watch you.” His whisper was gruff against my ear. “They can watch because”—he gripped my chin, turning my face from the window—“you fucking belong to me.” He plunged his tongue into my mouth, swallowing my groans.
“Say my name,” he said, still hard inside me. He kissed the wing of my collarbone, going along my shoulder and to my arm, to the stitches he’d just placed. He lifted his head and looked straight at me, cock pulsing.
“Anteros,” I said, voice hoarse from screaming. When he began a slow, delirious rhythm of pumping into me, this time I didn’t look out the window.
“When you come you’ll say my name,” he ordered on a powerful thrust. “Only my name.” I nodded.
I didn’t know what this meant for the future outside these walls. It felt like with our wounds and stitches, we’d mended some of our fractured relationship. But Lucia, Nikolai—the war—it was all still out there. Waiting for us.
I screamed his name as another orgasm broke me into a billion pieces. With Anteros, it was never easy; even the orgasms were hard. You’d think they would get normal, simple, but each time they stole my body.
One thing was certain, though: I’d do anything for this feeling, for the bliss, the fracture. I’d be lost to it forever, but I didn’t want to be found. I wanted to drown in it. It was terrifying being so helpless, so addicted. I knew Anteros owned me forever because he owned the feeling, the feeling that utterly owned me.
Thirteen
Anteros rubbed a lazy, concentric path along Frankie’s back as she slept. They hadn’t gone to bed until late in the morning, fucking like animals on the floor until they’d passed out sometime near the sunrise. Now the sun was high in the sky, room glowing the color of whiskey. Her body shone too, as if from the inside.
A blanket snaked haphazardly around one of her legs, doing nothing to cover her naked body. Her slim waist, her petite yet curvy ass, the delicate line of her spine, the tiny dimples in her shoulder—it all had his already hard cock raging. She breathed an easy rhythm against him, though, so he wouldn’t wake her.
Anteros’s chest grew tight as Frankie slept, eyelashes fluttering against her cheek as she dreamed. There were so many things that needed his attention. A soldier would find the Wolves’ bodies soon and would realize Anteros was missing. People would assume he was also dead. They would turn to Lucia for guidance and the war would definitely tip in her favor. He should have cared, everything he’d been working for his entire life was coming to a head.
Frankie sighed, turning her head deeper into the crook of his shoulder, and he drew her closer. She was so serene in her sleep, so trusting. With a nearly imperceptible exhale, he ran a hand through his tangled, dark hair.
He watched her a moment longer then looked out the window. The sun was already dipping back down into the sky, blazing a trail of golden fire through the snow-drenched forest. The color was familiar, too familiar. The trees began to blur, vision getting lost in the radiance as memory took over.
The sun was bright in the sky when Anteros followed the man. Rays dripped down, painting the Venice streets gold and making the man’s black shoes shine even more. He was important, that was obvious. Anteros had followed him a few blocks, hoping to find the right moment to pick his pocket, but the man had come to a stop in a discreet neighborhood almost an hour before. The sound of a woman in labor rang through the small street and Anteros was close to giving up. Any other time, Anteros would have left to find another mark, but something about the man said he should wait. He crouched behind tables and flower pots, hoping the man would reappear soon.
“Congratulations, it’s a beautiful, healthy baby girl!” Anteros heard drift through an open window.
“A girl?” The man in the suit’s outraged voice followed seconds later.
“Lucio wait—” a woman said, sounding panicked. Anteros had no idea what was going on, but he listened anyway, drinking in the conversation like good wine.