in waves that heated his skin.
“You can’t do that to me! I lied, you bully. And you know it.” She gripped his arm, sinking her long nails in. “It’s you. You’re the only one who’s ever made me go crazy like that. I swear to God. Please tell me you only said that because you’re mad that I insulted your skills. Please!” She tried to shake him then shuddered so hard her teeth made a little ticking sound. “I swear on my life; I will fight the bloodiest fight you’ve ever witnessed if you allow other men in here to rape me.”
How juvenile that he’d wanted to shock her into verbalizing something he already knew. That it was him and him alone who “made her go crazy like that.”
He reached out and jerked the sheet away. Dropping it on the floor, he caressed her shoulders and down her arms until he could take her hands in his. He brought them up, but rather than kiss her knuckles; he bit them. Hard enough to make her wince.
“I know it is me who brings out the whore in you. I can see it bothers you, and you may be foolish enough to try to fight it, but you will not win.” He held fast when she went to pull free, as expected. “At the gallery where we met. At the restaurant I brought you to that night. At your place of employment. At the visitation the other day, and then at the church, and later at the Waldorf. In every situation, you appeared classy, utterly beautiful, yet distant. You are intimidating and unreachable to most men.” He squeezed her fingers. “But not to me. I am the one who knows how that demeanor falls away. I am the one who knows how you morph into what I just spent the last two hours lost in. You should understand that a man does not covet a whore, Yasmeen. He covets his whore. And rest assured I will be the only one to reap the rewards of your erotic transformation from art connoisseur to insatiable sex kitten.”
When she pulled again, he allowed her freedom. She kept a wary eye on him as she bent and took up the sheet again. She held it to her chin with one hand, seemingly unaware the covering had failed to hide the swell of one breast and its rose-colored nipple. With her hair a mass of silky tangles all around her shoulders and over her arms, her mouth red from being used so hard, she was the most exquisite picture. He would have paid millions to commission the painting before him.
“Will you do me a favor?”
He raised his brows and turned his lips down as he nodded in a we-shall-see gesture.
“Will you stop using those cheap scare tactics? I wouldn’t have thought you’d have to sink to methods like that to get what you want.”
How naïve she still was. “Draga. Something you should know. When you disrespected what this is,” he motioned between them, “my first thought was to make you suffer through the touch of other men so you’d learn the difference between what they would make you feel and what I make you feel. It was your reaction and subsequent confession that saved you from such an experience.” And the fact that he would likely decapitate anyone who laid one finger on her. He’d put that body-less cranium on prominent display so everyone would know what was in store for them if they touched his property. Men and women alike. “Do not make the mistake of thinking I will not follow through on something I say.”
He distantly realized that sharing her was the second threat he’d made against her that he had no intention of following through on. Was he showing weakness where she was concerned?
Of course, he was. That was one of the reasons he’d stayed away from her for so long. He’d known this would happen. His mouth compressed as his father’s image drifted through his mind, and he looked at Yasmeen with new eyes. Cold eyes. His father had allowed his mother to get away with the most heinous things because of his obsession with her. Until the day she’d proven her total disregard for him, and in effect, her children.
“For instance,” he went on, his tone more rigid than ever. “When I spoke of using you hard, in clear, precise terms that means I plan on fucking you day and night, whenever