Chapter 30: WHY BAD IF IT FEELS GOOD?

Arianna

The unsettling truth was, I thought I already was in love with him. And the realization terrified me.

I shouldn’t be in love with a man who stalked me, who spied on me, who followed my every move, who likely killed for me. I really shouldn’t. But it was too late. He had already claimed me, forced me to live with him… well, willingly, but still.

I buried my face in my hands, mortified. I couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t bear to see the smug “I told you so” in his eyes.

Knowing everything about me, as he did, he probably knew I wouldn’t be able to resist his charms, his attention, his looks. Those eyes, that voice… Damn, I was utterly, hopelessly in love with my stalker.

Shit. Mission abort. He had accomplished his task. I had fallen for him.

“Ari, baby,” I heard him approach, the clinking of plates indicating he had placed the food and drink in front of me.

He sat beside me, then, before I could protest, he tugged me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him, burying my nose in the crook of his neck instead. He chuckled softly against my ear, tightening his grip on me, kissing my temple. “Angel, look at me.”

How could a man as dangerous as him be so soft, so sweet?

A shiver traced its way down my spine, a delicious tremor born of fear and anticipation. I melted, a willing offering to the heat that radiated from him, obeying his every unspoken command. My eyes, timid and uncertain, dared to peek upwards, drawn to the intensity of his gaze. My cheeks burned, the blush a blatant betrayal of the desires I fought to contain. He was a predator, and I, his willing prey.

“You don’t need to shy away from me,” he purred, the words laced with a darkness that both terrified and thrilled me. “You can admit it. But I need to hear it.”

I played dumb, feigning innocence while my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. “Hear what?”

His eyes darkened, the playful glint replaced by a possessive hunger that made my breath catch in my throat. His hand, so gentle moments before, now traced a path of fire across my cheek, down my chin, and onto my neck. His fingers, strong and sure, wrapped around my throat, a silent promise of control.

My panties were already soaked, the fabric clinging to my skin like a second, shameful layer. The way he looked at me, the way he held me, it was a symphony of dominance and desire that resonated deep within my soul.

“Say the words, baby,” he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated against my skin. “Or I will force them out of you the hard way.” A smirk, cruel and captivating, played on his lips, and an evil glint danced in his eyes.

I shivered, not from cold, but from the electric charge that coursed through my veins.

“The hard way? How is that?” The question escaped my lips as a barely audible whisper, a plea disguised as defiance.

Fear warred with a perverse curiosity, a yearning for the very pain he threatened. I knew, on some primal level, that he would never truly hurt me. His torment would be a carefully orchestrated dance, a ballet of pleasure and pain designed to break me, to mold me into his perfect obsession.

My feet left the ground, the suddenness of the motion stealing the air from my lungs. I gasped, my breath caught in my throat as he lifted me onto the kitchen counter. A sweep of his arm sent plates and utensils crashing to the side, the sound a jarring intrusion in the silent battle raging between us. My eyes darted downwards, a flicker of concern for the spilled contents of my drink, but somehow he had saved it so it could be used.

“You can take a sip. You want a taste?” He retrieved the mug, the gesture slow and deliberate, each movement a calculated act of seduction.

Bringing it to my lips, he grinned, a flash of white against the shadows that clung to his face.

“Open for me, sweetheart. Taste it.” The command, spoken in that low, hypnotic tone, bypassed my conscious thought.

I parted my lips, surrendering to his will, and allowed the warm liquid to slip into my waiting mouth. The sweet taste of chocolate exploded on my tongue, a decadent indulgence that slid down my throat with ease. It wasn’t scalding, but warm enough to drink immediately.

“Good girl,” Vincent murmured, pulling the mug away and placing it back on the counter. His eyes never left mine, their dark depths holding me captive in their gaze.

My body throbbed, every nerve ending screaming for his touch. My pussy was so wet, I could barely think straight. He stepped between my legs, the possessive claim sending another wave of heat crashing through me. He lifted his hand to my face, his touch featherlight as he wiped the remaining drops of chocolate from my lips. And then, with a deliberate slowness that bordered on torture, he parted my lips with his thumb, inviting my tongue to taste him.

Lost in a haze of desire, I obeyed. My tongue danced across his skin, licking away the sweetness, and his eyes filled with a lust that mirrored my own.

“Yes,” he growled, his voice thick with arousal. “Suck it like a good girl.” He slipped his finger deeper, and a moan escaped my lips, a sound both shameful and exhilarating. I sucked and licked, lost in the intoxicating sensation of his touch.

With my eyes closed, I didn’t notice him taking a taco in his hand until he tipped my chin up. “Take a bite.”