Casey started to back away from him toward the bedroom, but he snatched her wrist and swung her around until she was trapped between him and the rest of the beautiful bathroom. “I don’t think so, nena, we shower together so I know you won’t run away on me.”
She wanted to protest, to tell him she would do no such thing, but her ability to speak fled when his shirt dropped, revealing his upper body. She’d known his strength, he’s used it on her before, but seeing him without his shirt, the hot, chiseled muscles that rippled down the front of his body in flat ridges and flexed over his stunning arms gave her a reality check she was not expecting. A deep gouge, long since healed, but badly, now left a puckered slash down his side. She thought it had probably been deep enough to reach his ribs. Her fingers twitched to touch and sooth, but she smothered the impulse.
Then his belt buckle and pants hit the floor. He was not wearing underwear. Sadly, her first thought was that he’d taken over an entire mafia operation and kidnapped her, all while commando, and that took some serious balls. Then her brain caught up to her eyes and she slowly started backing up again. The only man she’d ever been with was her husband and the last time had been well over a year ago. And sadly, Ignacio had not been built like this man. Not even close. Not in any way. She didn’t even know men came this different. Well, she’d suspected, given some of her reading material. But she didn’t know, know.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when he closed the space between them and without hesitation, reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it right over her head. She was still gaping at him when he unsnapped her bra and made short work of that too.
“Stop it!” she gasped, pulling away from him and covering her breasts with her palms. “Leave me alone!”
He used her momentum to knock her off balance and force her into a sitting position on the edge of the tub where he bent in front of her and swiftly unzipped and removed her boots. She just gawked like an idiot at his easy handling of her. Without thinking she smacked him in shoulder, the heel of her hand thumping against the muscle.
He lifted his head to give her a warning look but he didn’t make a move to stop her. He only said in a low voice while reaching for the fastening on her jeans. “Strike me in anger again, nena, and I will retaliate. I’m not a patient man or an easy man. You want a war, I can give you a war. But be careful what you ask for.”
Her hands fell to the edge of the tub and gripped so she wouldn’t be tempted to do anything stupid again. She didn’t know what he considered retaliation and she wasn’t sure she was ready to find out. He unzipped her jeans and maneuvered them easily down her hips while she sat in silence. Then it occurred to her how he was handling her with such ease. He was probably used to pushing people around physically as part of his every day existence. She guessed she was just lucky he was being so gentle with her. She shuddered.
Fear and embarrassment crashed through her once he’d pulled off her panties, the last item of clothing from her body. There wasn’t even an ounce of the usual lust she felt when she was around him. She was too unsure of him and the situation to be responsive.
As if sensing her trepidation, he sighed, almost tiredly and held out his hand. “Come on, Casey,” he said in a low voice. “You’ll feel better after you shower.”
She stared at his hand and then looked up at him and shook her head. “I would feel better if you took me back home and stopped pretending this is something that I want.”
His eyes hardened and he let out a growl. He grabbed her arm and pulled her off the edge of the tub. She slammed into the heat of his rock-hard body. She brought her hands up to catch herself and then thought better of it when they slid along the warm steel of corded muscles. She tried to drop her hands but he jerked her closer and snarled in her face, “You don’t get it. What you want doesn’t matter anymore, if it ever did, Casey. You belong to me now, nena. ‘Spoils of war’ is how I believe you so inelegantly put it. It’s up to you whether you come to me as my queen or my slave. Now we will get in that shower and rinse off and then I’m going to fuck you, willing or not.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond, instead he dragged her toward the big beast of a shower stall and stood with her arm gripped tightly in his fist while he messed with the settings. Once he seemed satisfied, he hauled her in with him and shoved her under the spray facing away from him.
She gasped as he set about soaping her without any finesse or gentleness. She squirmed and cried out when his fingers violated every part of her body with quick firm strokes. She would have called the cleansing impersonal, but when she looked over her shoulder at his face she could see the lust blazing through his anger. His fury seemed to fuel his desire for her.
“Stop!” she begged when his soapy fingers slid between her legs, but he didn’t. He turned her around to face him, pushed her against the shower wall and then shoved a finger inside her. Casey tried to stop the whimper that erupted from her throat but it was useless. She was past the point of being able to control herself. Either physically or emotionally. Then his fingers slid through her folds and without warning he pushed the tip of his soapy finger into her ass. She screamed in surprise and jumped up onto her toes, trying to squirm away from him.
“Fuck, Casey,” he grunted. “So fucking tight.”
She wanted to die of embarrassment but he removed his hands, turned away from her and began soaping himself in quick, efficient strokes. She crossed her arms over her wet breasts and just stared, caught somewhere between the pleasure of watching an extremely masculine, good-looking man wash himself and the terror of knowing what that man intended on doing to her when he was done.
He finished, turned the taps off, took hold of her arm once more without even looking at her and hauled her out of the shower. Casey followed him, the picture of docility, while attempting to cover herself with her remaining arm. Inside, she was beginning to both panic and seethe, the prospect of his bed looming closer and closer. When he picked up a towel off the vanity, shook it out and began drying her off, she got the sudden urge to bite him.
Instead she took hold of the edge of the towel, stepped quickly back and snapped, “I can dry myself.”
His head came up along with one thick, black eyebrow. A clear warning was evident in his gaze and she thought he was about to back it up verbally or physically but some of her panic must have leaked through in her eyes, because he closed his mouth, gave her a quick nod and let her have the towel. She breathed easier and dried herself while simultaneously exposing as little of herself as possible, though he’d already seen everything. She wrapped the large towel around herself and allowed him to escort her back into the bedroom.
As they approached the bed, she shook her head and dug her feet into the thick carpet, pulling her arm away from him. She clutched the towel tightly over her breasts with her other hand. “Not happening, Reyes,” she said with as much authority as she could manage given her lack of attire or position within his household. He turned to her with a complete lack of modesty over his own nudity and stared, his gaze both icy cold and intensely heated at the same time. She shivered, sparing a thought for the talent it took for these mafia bosses to perfect those kinds of intense stares.
“Explain yourself. And do so carefully, nena,” he said with deadly calm. “This is your only chance.”
She shivered, but lifted her chin and gave him her best mob wife stare. She knew how to give as good as she got. And so far, she’d negotiated herself out of sex with him twice. She could do it a third. She knew she wasn’t going to escape him forever, but she just couldn’t bring herself to hop into bed with the man who had killed her husband only a few hours earlier. No matter how much she’d despised Ignacio, his memory just didn’t deserve that kind of cold disrespect.
“You may have made me a widow, Reyes,” she said, ice dripping from each word, “but I’m still married to Ignacio Hernandez in my head. You haven’t given me any time to process this brutal situation. I am still Casey He
rnandez until the moment you take that away from me too. And you are the man that murdered my husband in the only home I’ve known for ten years. You are the man that tore me away from that home, abducted me and took me to a new fucking continent! Now you want me to just crawl into your bed and spread my legs. No thank you, Reyes.” She thrust her chin out and glared at him for all she was worth. “No… you can go fuck yourself. I don’t care how many showers you take, you still have Ignacio’s blood all over you and I won’t forget that.”
He stood silent for a moment, just watching her. Absorbing her blatant disrespect and refusal to give him what he demanded. It took her several heartbeats to realize he was containing the rage that her words had provoked within him. She saw it in the clench of his fists and the ripple of his muscles. She saw in the impassive mask he struggled to maintain. She would stand her ground though. She reminded herself of who she was and why she was there.
“You want to see what I’m capable of?” he said, his voice grimly quiet, when he finally spoke. “Say his name again, Casey. Tell me you belong to a dead man one more time.”
She glared at him and smacked her chest over her heart with her fist and snarled in his face, “I am the wife of Ignacio Hernandez!”
Chapter Twenty
Without warning he grabbed her by the neck with one hand, his fingers wrapping around the delicate column. She stumbled back. He followed, pushing her until her legs hit the bed and she fell backwards. He tore the towel away from her body with his other hand, baring her pale body to his sweeping gaze and ruthless touch. He kneeled next to her, throwing his weight across her body. She brought her hands up, bracing them against his hard chest.
Her terrified eyes met the steely determination in his. “Say his fucking name again,” he snarled, leaning down to speak in her face, his lips hovering above hers. His fingers tightened around her throat, cutting off her ability to speak and most of her ability to breath. “Speak that man’s name again in my home, in my very bedroom, I dare you, nena. Push me further, find out what will happen.”
The elemental threat of his hand on her throat, controlling her very life both terrified and exhilarated her. She lifted her chin in defiance, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. His eyes followed the movement, heat flaring before meeting her gaze. Her eyes dilated in response. He eased his grip and leaned down to taste her lips, to follow the path of her tongue. Her eyes flashed up at him, giving him only the briefest of warnings before she sank her teeth into his lip, biting down hard enough to drawn blood.
He jerked back in surprise and then immediately reached for her, but she was gone in a flash, rolling out from under him and across the bed. Casey lunged off the other side of the bed, fueled by adrenaline, much faster than she thought herself capable.
He growled in annoyance, touching a finger to his lip and giving the bloody evidence on his finger the barest of glances. “Stop playing games, nena. You know this is inevitable. Act like a real woman and get your ass over here.”
“Act like a real man, Reyes,” she taunted from across the bed, grabbing up the edge of a blanket and holding it against her naked body, “and go find a woman that wants you.”
She saw pure, unadulterated rage flash through his eyes right before he struck, lunging for her. He was so fast she didn’t stand a chance of getting away. She dropped the blanket and ran for all she was worth. He caught her by the ends of her hair as she tried to streak past him, yanking her back against his bare chest. She screamed in pain, but he eased his grip the moment her struggling body was in his arms. He picked her up and slammed her down hard on the bed, knocking the breath from her.
He fell on top of her, squeezing her until she was forced to give up the fight or lose what little air she had left in her lungs. He leaned over her and said in her ear, “You need proof that you want me, Casey? I will be happy to show you this, over and over again until you beg me to stop. There is more than one way to torture a person and I’m happy to introduce you to this method so you will be more careful with your words to me in future.”
He rolled off the bed, dragging her with him. She cried and begged him to let her go, but he completely ignored her pleas. She was terrified now that her defiance had brought out a monster in him. Years of punishments welled up in her, terrorizing her mind until she could think of nothing but getting away from Reyes. She fought with every ounce of strength she possessed, but it wasn’t much. She was the pampered trophy wife of a dead man with more issues than she could throw a stick at.
Reyes had her subdued and helpless with her arms tied tightly over her head with a belt quickly and efficiently. He didn’t bother tying her legs, growling down at her that he’d rather have free access to stretch them wide and pull them over his shoulders. She opened her mouth to shriek at him, but he slammed his lips over hers, swallowing her protests in a bloody kiss. He shoved his tongue deep into her mouth as if daring her to bite him again, but she didn’t have it in her to taunt him further. His retaliations were proving painful and humiliating.
He kissed her over and over, stealing her breath, and drugging her with heat and need until she was meeting him kiss for kiss. Her baser instincts were taking over, giving way to the intense attraction that blazed within her whenever he touched her. The desperate desire to give this man exactly what he craved. Something inside her broke every time he touched her. Broke and woke up, clawed its way up her chest to meet him, reaching desperately for him, begging him for more. Clinging passionately to the man she recognized as her equal, even if her logical brain couldn’t do it yet.
A sob tore from her throat and she arched toward him in abandon, her lips wet with his blood and saliva. He slashed a grin down at her. “There’s my girl.”
She pulled on her wrists, but the binding he’d tied her with held tight. She whimpered and twisted against it, tossing her head and looking at him imploringly, wanting to touch him back. He shook his back. “No,” he growled. “You were bad, nena. Tried to fly on your own. And I will never allow that. Now you can suffer this lesson.”
He moved down her body, worshipping her breasts, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. She couldn’t see the colour, but she could see the difference in shades against her skin and it was beautiful to her eyes. He lavished her breasts and nipples with such tender attention that it made her wild in her need to be closer to him. She arched her spine upwards, pressing herself into his hot possessive mouth. She’d never felt anything like the lash of his tongue against her sensitive nipple as he sucked it into his mouth and played with the engorged bud until she was screaming with pleasure, spreading her legs against the plush bedding and begging him for more.
“Más?” he questioned her. “You want more, Casey?” he growled against her body, tearing his mouth away from her flesh and climbing lower while she cried and whimpered, thrashing against her bonds.
“No!” she screamed as he pressed one hand between her breasts and forced her heaving body back into the bedding, then with a heated look, pressed his thumb against the core of her, sliding it along her pussy until he was pressing fully against her clit. “Fuck, yeeeesss!” she screamed, her head arched back into the pillows, her throat straining with tension.
He used his shoulders to force her slim, shaking legs wide and flicked her clit with his thumb until she was crying and begging him to both stop and continue. Sweat beaded against the hollow of her throat and she pulled weakly on the belt he’d wrapped around her delicate wrists.
He leaned in and inhaled her scent growling, “Fucking caliente,” against her flesh before devouring her with his tongue, driving her to the edge over and over again without allowing her to fall over. True to his word, Reyes tortured her in the most delicious way until she was writhing and crying underneath him, begging for release.
“Anything… please just stop,” she panted when he eased back again, stealing her release.
Tears leaked from her beautiful eyes where they were fixed on the ceiling. Despite the pain of an over sensit
ized body, she refused to look at him. She refused to give in entirely to the man who wanted to own her body and soul. He climbed up her body and took her jaw in his hand, forcing her to look at him, allowing her no escape from his world of deprivation. Her lips trembled as she met his eyes.
“Give me what I want,” he rasped, lust, rage and admiration for her clashing and warring within, telling her he was as affected by her as she was by him.
“I-I will never speak his name under this roof again,” she whispered weakly.
Triumph blazed bright and with her jaw still tight in his hand, he took her lips in a passionate kiss filled with the promise of what was soon to come. She moaned into his mouth as she tasted herself on his tongue. He reached between them and positioned himself between her thighs, shoving her legs back until he was poised to take her. He leaned down over top of her until his lips were inches from her own. “Who do you belong to, Casey?” he demanded.
She didn’t say anything for a second and then she met his eyes, one amber and one green clashing with his dark eyes. “You, Reyes,” she whispered. “I belong to you.”
He dropped his head until his forehead touched hers and he thrust foreword, burying his full length within her. Casey cried out at the intrusion and bucked against the bed, arching her neck in protest. Tears of pain escaped her eyes and she squeezed them shut while she tried to adjust to the fullness of having a man in and on her body once again. Especially one as large as Reyes.
He framed her face with his hands and dropped a kiss on her trembling lips. “Shhh, nena, come on. Open your eyes,” he urged her.
A sob escaped her lips, but after another moment of adjustment she did open her eyes for him. She was afraid she would see triumph, but she didn’t. She saw concern. Just… raw worry as he searched her face for passion. She couldn’t deal with that. She couldn’t handle her own emotions let alone anything he might feel for her. Nothing about this situation was okay. She blinked again, closing her eyes and allowing herself to drift the way she used to when things got too overwhelming.
Scarred Queen (The Queens Book 1) Page 13