Marked (Primal Obsessions #2) - Cara Wylde Page 0,26

rope, every tight knot, every inch he was pulling me upwards, high off the ground, I felt more and more vulnerable and exposed. The rope was biting into my skin, and he had tied my arms and legs in such ways that I had no way to defend myself if anyone… if he changed his mind about our arrangement and left me to die out here – no food, no water, no shelter from the elements.

I looked at him again and saw the definite bulge in his pants.

“You’ll be fine, Rosalie, just let him have you,” I encouraged myself.

After all, it was just sex.

More than I ever had.

More fun.

More adventurous.

More sinfully depraved, and something inside of me wanted that – wanted to experience animalistic lust and passion.

I actually liked it, even. Slutty Rosalie, like they taunted me. I was ashamed and aroused. My weakness and my strength. Being taken by these men in such ways would have broken another woman, but what it did to me was to show me that I was stronger than I knew I could be. They thought they were punishing me? I had an orgasm every time, so how was that punishment?

The answer was given to me when Lincoln tested the ropes by smacking my ass so hard, I swiveled back and forth. He stopped me with a hand in my hair.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he said, looking at me like I was the eighth wonder of the world. He hurriedly undid his pants and barked at me, voice filled with arousal instead of actual threat, eyes half-lidded in expectation of what he was going to make me do. “Take me and don’t struggle, or else the deal is off.”

He wasted no time in pushing himself into my open mouth, and I nodded around his cock. What else was I to do? I didn’t really need to bob my head on his massive length or swirl my tongue around it. He was swinging me back and forth with the hand he kept in my hair. It hurt, and he was going so deep, like before, on that table, where he had finished down my throat. I couldn’t handle an entire blowjob like that, with him wanting to fuck my brains, not just my mouth. I tried to protest, to speak, though my mouth was full, and he seemed to enjoy that even more. He was driving himself further and further with every thrust, and I was choking, running out of air, drooling uncontrollably around his merciless cock.

I looked up at him through teary lashes, and he had a manic grin on his face.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it, slut?” he asked and slapped my face with his free hand.

My throat closed up in pain, and he groaned in pleasure. He had found a new way to make me hurt. He slapped me again, howling, having fun, then held my head in place and pushed himself so deep, my nose was pressed painfully against his skin.

“Hold it,” he said. The seconds seemed like hours. I couldn’t breathe. I was seeing stars when he pulled out, and I coughed, spitting out the gathered saliva. “You love this, don’t you?”

I wanted to do it – to bite him, if he did that again. It was so fucking hard not to bite him every time he slapped me. I could always pretend it was an accident.

“I’ve always wanted to do that, to fuck a woman’s throat. None of my lovers could suppress their gag reflex. You can. I might never fuck you in any other ways,” he said lovingly, caressing my abused face.

Was that… happiness I saw in his eyes?

He made me open wide again and this time, it seemed easier. My body had learned what to expect, and not even the slaps seemed as bad. My body was relaxing, and my mind was tensing up, a new idea forming and reaching the forefront of my mind, needing to be recognized and accepted. He liked what he was doing to me, and I was the only one able to satisfy him this way. It was a strange feeling that came over me at that realization. I was holding a unique power over this beast. I was doing something great. Something he adored. Something he was becoming addicted to.

Jack had never said I was amazing at anything, I thought as I angled my head to take more of Lincoln’s cock, to show eagerness. Yes, I could be the