Bryn has become a dark, smoldering entity dominating my every thought and breath. When I look down, I see him draw all the way out, his rod coated with my juices. He is gleaming and glowing with my near climactic need, and I know he is going to push me over that maddening edge that I am approaching harder and faster.
He lets my hips go and grabs my hair and chin, his face right against mine, his breath hot against my mouth, his grunting need and possessive kisses joining forces with the hard thrusts of his cock to make me surrender.
I come hard. Orgasm spears through me, my thighs trembling and my toes curling. He comes too. I feel his cock throb and sink deep, the head of his bare dick pressed against the neck of my unprotected womb. He holds himself there, big hands pulling my ass hard toward him so every spurt of seed is splashed against that tender nexus of life inside me. He looks deep into my eyes as he orgasms, my gasping and moaning and writhing only making him come harder.
I am left dripping his cum, pink and ashamed, only partially wearing the pretty dress that once belonged to my mother. I have been thoroughly fucked and mated. I have been turned into the sort of creature that good people despise. And I loved every single fucking moment of it.
He looks at me with that dark, smoldering gaze and flickers a wink at me.
“I told you you’d enjoy church.”
Chapter Eight
Bryn
“What have you done, sir?”
I am being questioned by my manservant in a most tedious way. What I really need is an aspirin and a lie down. What I don’t need is to justify myself to a man who already knows very well what I have done. He knew it by the way Nina curled up next to me in the car on the way back, a contented little well-fucked kitten. Now he has me on my own and he has mustered the nerve to question me.
“Do I need to spell it out explicitly for you, Crichton?”
“She is many years your junior. She was here as your ward. And you have turned the chapel into a brothel.”
“Not a brothel. I didn’t pay her.”
“This is not amusing. I assume no protection was used. You were reckless. You spilled your seed inside her. What if something were to take root? Another generation cursed by the burdens you and she bear?”
“It’s a gift, isn’t it? Don’t we need more demon slayers in this dark world of ours?”
“What would Ivy think?” Crichton makes an appeal to the woman who used to be my moral compass. Not anymore.
“Ivy doesn't think. Ivy is dead.”
Crichton sighs.
“You do not know this young lady. You think you do, because of the connection you had with Ivy, but Nina is not Ivy. She is her own woman, an innocent young lady with potential for a happy, normal life.”
“Ivy thought she could have a happy normal life and look what happened to her. Some of us are not destined for normal or happy. Some of us must embrace the gloom and the dark and revel in it.”
“That may be true for you, but it does not have to be true for Nina.”
“Then why did you bring her to me? Why did you leave her in the chapel with me alone and the gloom outside? You knew I'd rut her. Now you lecture me as if you had no way of anticipating the obvious outcome of events.”
“Perhaps I hoped you would refrain, sir.”
“Or perhaps you are a twisted demon who wants to play both sides, devil on my shoulder, angel berating me thereafter. Go make dinner, Crichton.”
Nina is upstairs napping. I can feel her, like a little glowing dot at the periphery of my senses. We are bonded now, connected in a way that will hurt like hell if the bond is severed.
“I need to talk to you.” Jonah interrupts my pleasant thoughts about his sister.
This boy is not taking the hint. He narrowly avoided a dagger to the face and still he keeps putting that thick-headed mug in front of me. It is as though he wants to be stabbed.
“What do you want, Jonah?”
“You tried to stab me and then you fucked my sister.”
I laugh, because hearing those words out of his spoiled American mouth is just so very satisfying. He comes charging up to me, like an idiot. He doesn't even try to approach me in a fighting stance. He just comes into arm's reach, face first, neck unprotected, surprisingly beady eyes filled with nasty stupidity.
I backhand him and send him spinning onto the floor.
“I did. I’ll fuck her arse next time too.” I don’t know if I mean those words, but I definitely want him to think I do.