“Cormac.” Her words are soft, a plea.
“I don’t ever want to hear of you with another man. Any man who touched you before now broke code and will pay with his life.”
She opens her mouth to respond, then closes it. Her eyes wide and fear-filled, she nods.
“Now spread your fucking legs.”
This isn’t how I planned it, it isn’t what I wanted. But I’m so angry right now, I can see nothing before me but an end goal: take her virginity and fucking prove it, before our union is threatened.
Claim her. Fuck her.
She spreads her legs like she’s a goddamn brasser at a whorehouse. Glaring at me. I ignore the look of betrayal she gives me. I took this woman from the filthiest Clan in all of Ireland on the grounds she was a virgin. If any of the men in her Clan were the ones to touch her, I’ll find them. They’ll pay for what they’ve done.
I position myself above her, my fist closing in around her bound wrists. Holding her in place. And though her eyes flash at me, she can’t hide the fear. It only spurs me on, only makes me want to take her harder. Faster. Lay claim to the woman who now bears my name, and some day my children.
Mine.
She stares at me unblinking, silently daring me to do what I have to through my haze of anger. I line my cock up at her entrance and drag it through her sopping folds. I groan, my cock throbbing.
“Fuck me, then, Cormac McCarthy,” she says through gritted teeth. “What are you fucking waiting for? Go at it. Do it.”
I hear her sweet, fearful voice in my mind again as I hover above her.
Make me bleed.
I slap her thigh. “Quiet.”
Her eyes water, but the pink flush of her cheek tells me it’s from anger, not pain. She asked for this, I tell myself, she wanted this. Bracing myself above her, her thin wrists still held in my hands, I don’t take my time. I don’t ease myself in. With one firm push, I slam my hips into hers and break through her barrier. She gasps, but I thrust again before she’s recovered. I want to bring her pain. I want to make her cry. I want to punish her for her cheek, her goddamn insolence, for being so fucking vulnerable.
My groans fill the room, my anger momentarily forgotten. Her pussy clenches around me, so tight, so hot, my eyes flutter closed and I utter an oath. She may have been touched by another man, but she’s still a fucking virgin.
“Mother of fucking God.” I don’t move within her, not yet, but relish the feel of her pussy squeezing my cock.
She tries to hide her wince of pain, but I see it, even through my haze of anger.
Her voice wavers. “Fuck me. What are you fucking waiting for?”
I bend my head to hers, our foreheads nearly touching. “Careful, Aileen.” I warn her. “Don’t bait me, lass. It’s too easy for me to hurt you.”
Though she’s putting on a brave front, I don’t miss the way she swallows hard, or the dots of perspiration across her brow. And it almost softens me.
Almost.
“You’re an arsehole, Cormac McCarthy,” she says. “And I fucking hate you.”
I thrust, to punish her, to silence her.
She winces, then whispers, “Is that all you’ve got?” But her voice is weaker this time.
“Don’t try me,” I say in a dangerous whisper, my hold on my anger tenuous, like gossamer thread. “Do you reckon I can’t hurt you?” I lift my hips and thrust again. The tight walls of her pussy hug my swollen cock. My balls tighten and my cock throbs inside her. It feels so fucking good I want to lose myself in this, fuck her hard and fast until I chase my release and fill her with my seed. But I won’t.
“You’re mine, Aileen McCarthy,” I whisper in her ear, reminding her she now bears my name. I weave my fingers through her mass of hair and pull. Her head tips back and her lips part on a moan as I thrust again. Hard. Vicious. She told me to make her bleed.
I have to.
I want her to know this, to feel this. “As mine, you belong to me. All of you. Your mouth. Your body. Your sweet, virgin cunt.”
I lift my hips and slam into her again, and again, until a tear rolls down her cheek and she winces, but a moment later her lips are parted in pleasure.
“I know,” she says, her voice tight and controlled. “I fucking know.”
She closes her eyes and more tears roll down her cheeks, but I can tell a part of her likes this, because her hips rise to meet my thrusts and she bites her lip, caught somewhere between pain and bliss.