A small kiss landed on my lips momentarily catching me off guard. I blinked, startled, and before I could react, he was pulling away, leaving me breathless in more ways than one. His pale blue eyes gleamed with something dark, something dangerous, as he smirked, stepping back unbuttoning his shirt.
"As much as I like you in bed," he voice was lazy yet laced with something sinister, "it's better for you to get up."
I blinked, trying to process his sudden shift in demeanour. Why was he doing this? What kind of sick game was he playing?
"Why?" I dared to ask, my voice shaky. "You can't… order me to follow your every command-"
The words barely left my mouth before I found myself airborne, his hands grabbing me and tossing me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. A sharp gasp tore from my throat, and I instinctively grabbed onto him to keep from falling.
"Since I'm in a good mood, I'll let that little outburst slide," he said, rubbing my arse and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. "But talk back again, and your ass will pay."
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest as he carried me effortlessly into the adjoining bathroom. Steam was already curling from the tub as he turned on the water, adjusting the temperature. The warmth of it filled the air, but it didn't ease the cold dread that gripped me.
Judas gently lowered me to the floor, his eyes never leaving mine. He seemed… calmer. But there was something even more terrifying in his calm, the way he watched me like I was a puzzle he was piecing together for his own amusement.
I stood frozen, unsure of what to do as he began to undress me, his fingers lingering on my skin, almost reverent. He peeled away my clothes, piece by piece, until I stood naked before him, exposed and trembling. I wanted to move, to cover myself, but I couldn't. His presence was too overwhelming, suffocating.
Once I was stripped bare, he pulled his own shirt over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest.
I sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide, stomach twisting into knots as I took in the sight of him.
He was muscular-dangerously so. His chest and arms were hard, every muscle defined like it had been carved from stone, the kind of body that spoke of violence, of raw power just waiting to be unleashed. His skin was a canvas of dark ink, intricate tattoos weaving across his chest, snaking down his arms, curling over his ribs like shadows creeping across his body. The ink itself was dark and menacing-skulls, serpents, symbols I didn't recognize but felt deep in my gut were nothing good.
But it was what lay beneath the tattoos that made my blood run cold.
Scars.
Faint but unmistakable, jagged lines etched into his skin, barely hidden beneath the swirling ink. They were everywhere, crisscrossing his chest, his sides, his arms. My breath hitched in my throat, panic surging through me. How many fights had he been in? How many lives had he ruined or taken to earn those scars? And why had he survived when others hadn't?
The tattoos tried to hide them, but up close, there was no mistaking the damage.
My gaze lingered on the snake tattoo that coiled around his ribs. And beneath it, a jagged scar, long and vicious, cutting through the tattoo like it had been made by something just as deadly.
He saw me looking and my widened eyes betrayed the fear coursing through me, but something in his expression shifted. Judas smirked taking his pants off slowly looking larger than life.
"You like what you see?" He tilted his head looking far more handsome than ever. Too bad his beauty could never justify his violent nature.
I wanted to look away, to close my eyes and pretend I hadn't seen the violence etched into his skin, but I couldn't. My body refused to move as he took a step closer. The heat from his body was suffocating, but worse was the realization that this man-this monster-had survived things that would have killed anyone else.
I flinched as he reached out, and his fingers brushed against my arm, trailing up toward my shoulder, and I instinctively pulled away. But there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide from the raw power that radiated off him.
"Scared?" His tone was mocking, but his eyes... they were dangerous, filled with something dark and twisted that made my heart race. "It's not the first time you're seeing my scars, isn't it?"
My heart stammered in my chest, and my mouth went dry as his words sank in. Not the first time? No, it wasn't, but it felt like it was. This was the first time I was truly seeing him, the man behind the power, the raw, scarred flesh that had always been hidden just out of sight.
Every time we were together, he made sure I couldn't face him-always from behind, always controlling, always making sure I couldn't study the details of his body. I'd felt him, yes. Every hard inch of him, every ripple of muscle when he was pressed against me. But seeing it now, laid bare in front of me, the way his scars cut through the tattoos-it made me realize how much he had kept hidden.
But this man did not deserved my pity. No matter how bad I actually felt.
His scars were nothing compared to the ones he inflicted on others.
I swallowed hard, trying to focus, but he pulled me closer as if I had no choice but to follow as he settled me into the tub. My back hit the cold edge of the tub, his hands gripping me firmly, but not rough-at least not yet.
"I am not scared… why would your scars scare me? It's not like you're the only one in the world with them." I grumbled pulling my legs closer to my chest as he settled just behind me with his erect rod pressed between my buttocks.
His chest pressed against my back and the heat of his body wrapped around me as the warm water sloshed softly in the tub. I flinched as his hand coiled around my jaw from behind and tilted my head so that his pale eyes were staring at me.
"This mouth," he murmured as his lips grazed my forehead sensually making me squirm. "It amuses me."
His other arm slid over my waist, possessive and fingers traced the curve of my hip before they dipped lower, gripping me in a way that made my breath hitch. "You amuse me, ptichka."
"I'm not your joker-"
"No, you're not. You're my woman."
He pushed me closer, his hips grinding against me slowly and his body demanded everything, taking without asking. His breath was harsh, as though controlling himself took effort. "You feel that?" His hand slid up to my neck, his fingers wrapping around my throat-not tight, but firm. "That's the truth right there. Doesn't matter how many scars are carved into me or you… this, this is what I want. You. Bent to my will."
The tip of his tongue flicked against the edge of my ear. His grip on my throat tightened, just enough to make my pulse quicken. "And I'm your first and I'll make sure I'm your last too. You're going to feel every scar, every fucking sin."
The tip of his cock raggedly poked against my ass and I bit back a groan feeling my stomach coiling uneasily.
His breath came out harsh against my neck as he tightened his grip around my throat. His other hand roamed greedily over my body, taking what he wanted without hesitation cupping my breats. "You feel that, don't you?" he whispered as his fingers tightened ever so slightly. "You know what the fuck I want-what I need-and it's you, ptichka, every goddamn inch of you."
He pushed his hips against me, his cock pressing harder, making my breath hitch. "Fuck, you drive me insane," he snarled, his voice thick with lust. "All I fucking think about is bending you over, claiming you, marking you so deep you'd never forget who the fuck you belong to." His words sent a shiver down my spine, my body betraying me, reacting to every filthy promise.
"You're gonna take it," he growled, his hand sliding lower, between my thighs. "All of it. My cock, my control, everything, because you're mine now. Got it? Say it. Say you're fucking mine."
I whimpered, his fingers teasing, making my thoughts scramble, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. I couldn't give him that.
"Still fighting me?" he hissed, his grip tightening around my throat, forcing me to gasp for air, but still holding me right at the edge of pain. "You're fucking stubborn, I'll give you that, but trust me, I'll fuck that attitude right out of you."
He pushed me harder against him, his cock hot and heavy, teasing, taunting greedy. "You feel that? That's all you're ever gonna get from now on. No one else. No other cock, no other man. Just me. Filling you, fucking you, owning you."
His fingers slipped between my legs, stroking me with slow, calculated motions that made my breath stutter. "You're wet for me already, aren't you? Fucking soaked. That's what I do to you. That's what you need from me. Say it."
I bit my lip, trying to keep myself together, but his fingers pressed deeper, rough and unyielding. "Fuck," he hissed. "You're dripping for me, aren't you? Dirty little slut… already begging without saying a word."
He pushed his cock harder against me, his voice rough as gravel. "You're going to take every inch of me until you can't fucking stand, and even then, I won't stop. You'll scream, you'll beg, but you won't get away from me, ptichka. You wanted this. And now you've got it. Every fucking sin. You don't have to hold back with me. I'll entertain you, be your master, and show you the world is more than your fucking books."
His lips grazed my ear again and I let out a moan as his finger traced the curve of my breast. "You'll feel me inside you long after I'm done, because this is never going to stop. You're mine, now and forever, and I'll remind you every chance I get."