Chapter 48
Elowen’s POV
For a moment, it worked. Drake stood there in the steaming tub, water streaming down the hard lines of his body, eyes narrowed as he weighed the knife in my shaking hand. I tasted power again—real, vicious power—and it was intoxicating. The uncertainty flickering in his gaze fed something feral inside me.
“You really think you can hurt me?” His voice was silk over steel, mocking but laced with the first thread of caution.
“Try me,” I spat, fingers whitening around the handle.
He moved like a predator that had decided playtime was over. One second he was in the water, the next he erupted out of it, a wave crashing over the marble. I slashed with everything I had. The blade sliced clean across his forearm, parting skin in a bright red smile. Blood mixed with bathwater, running pink down his wrist.
He roared—pure animal rage—and then his hand clamped around my wrist so hard I felt bones grind. The knife fell with a hollow clatter.
“You fucking bitch!”
The victory lasted less than a heartbeat. He twisted my arm up behind my back until my shoulder screamed, fingers digging into the nape of my neck like iron talons. Naked, dripping, helpless, he dragged me out of the bathroom and flung me onto the bed. The impact knocked every ounce of air from my lungs. I scrambled across the sheets on elbows and knees, but his hand locked around my ankle and yanked me back like I was a rag doll.
“Get off me!” I kicked wildly, blindly, heels connecting with whatever flesh I could reach. Without Juno’s strength, they were nothing more than annoyances.
He laughed, dark and guttural, and dropped his full weight on me. Wet skin, hot and heavy, pinned me to the mattress. His cock—already rock-hard—pressed thick and insistent against the inside of my thigh, branding me with his arousal.
“Now you’ve really fucking done it,” he snarled against my ear, breath scalding. “I was going to be gentle. I was going to remind you slowly. But you just begged me to break you.”
He forced my legs apart with one brutal knee. I felt the blunt head of him nudge against me and panic exploded behind my eyes.
“No—Drake, please—” My voice cracked into something small and pathetic. “You promised you wouldn’t—”
“Promises are for people who don’t try to carve my fucking arm off, Elowen.”
I thought of Casper’s soft amber eyes when he laughed, of Cassian’s calloused fingers tracing my spine while he whispered mine. I had never told them I loved them. The realization hit harder than Drake’s body.
“I’ll do anything else,” I whispered, hating the tears burning tracks down my temples. “Anything. Just… not that. Please.”
He went perfectly still above me, chest heaving. Then a slow, cruel smile curved his mouth.
“Anything?” He sat back on his heels, fisting his cock with lazy arrogance. It jutted up, flushed dark and angry, veins standing out along the shaft, the fat crown already slick and shining. “Get on your knees, then. Open that pretty lying mouth and show me how sorry you are.”
Bile surged up my throat, but I knew which violation would shatter me less. I crawled to the edge of the bed on trembling limbs, knees hitting the rug. The room smelled of him—sulfur, greasy, and raw dominance.
Drake stepped forward, water still beading on his chest, and tangled his fingers brutally in my hair, wrenching my head back until my neck ached.
“Look at me,” he ordered, voice velvet and venom. “Eyes up. I want to watch every second of this.”
He dragged the swollen head across my lips, smearing pre-cum like war paint. The taste—salt and skin and him—made my stomach lurch.
“Open.”
I parted my lips. He didn’t wait. He pushed in hard, stretching my mouth wide, sliding over my tongue until the thick crown bumped the back of my throat. I gagged instantly, tears flooding my eyes.
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, low and filthy. “That’s it… take it deep like the good girl you pretend not to be.”
He pulled back just enough for me to drag in a desperate breath, then thrust again, deeper. My jaw burned. Drool spilled over my bottom lip, dripping onto my bare breasts.
“Jesus, Elowen… your mouth’s gotten so much fucking better.” He rolled his hips slow and deliberate, watching my face with hungry fascination. “What did those twins do to you, huh? How many times did you practice on their cocks to get this good?”
I tried to shake my head, but his grip turned vicious, pinning me in place.
“Did Casper teach you how to relax your throat?” He pushed in until my nose brushed the trimmed hair at his base, holding me there while I choked. “Or was it Cassian who liked it messy—liked watching you cry while you swallowed him whole?”
He pulled out with a wet pop, letting me gasp, then fed himself back in, slow and relentless.
“Shit… swirl your tongue under the head—yeah, just like that. You didn’t do that before. Someone trained you.” His voice dropped to a filthy growl. “Tell me, baby—whose cum did you swallow first? Casper’s or Cassian’s? Or did they take turns, painting that pretty throat until you learned to love the taste?”
I whimpered around him, the sound muffled and broken.
“Louder,” he taunted, fucking my mouth in short, cruel thrusts. His heavy balls slapped my chin with every stroke. “Moan for me. Show me how much you missed this cock.”
Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the saliva coating my chin and neck. My knees burned against the rug, thighs trembling.
“Fuck—gonna come,” he hissed, hips stuttering. “You’re gonna take every drop like you were born for it.”
He buried himself to the hilt, fingers locked in my hair so tight my scalp screamed. His cock pulsed hard—once, twice—then erupted. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded my mouth, bitter and overwhelming. I gagged violently, choking, but he held me pinned, forcing me to swallow the first waves.
At the last second he ripped free with a guttural roar. One final spurt lashed across my lips and chin; the rest arced out in a heavy, obscene rope that landed with a wet slap on the sheets beside the bed.
He released me. I collapsed forward on all fours, retching, crawling desperately for the bathroom. My stomach heaved before I even reached the toilet, but nothing came up except sour bile and the lingering salt of him.
I collapsed over the bowl anyway, dry-heaving until my ribs ached. Then I lurched to the sink, turned the faucet scalding hot, and cupped water frantically—swish, spit, repeat, again and again. I grabbed my toothbrush, scrubbed until my gums bled crimson into the foam, tongue raw and swollen.
But it didn’t matter how hard I brushed, how violently I rinsed. I could still taste him—thick on my tongue, clinging to the back of my throat, smeared across my lips like a stain I could never scrub off. Every breath carried the musk of his release. My reflection stared back: swollen mouth, red-rimmed eyes, a streak of his cum drying on my chin like a brand.
I would never feel clean again.