The Relic (Cradle of Darkness #2) - Addison Cain Page 0,25

lips already felt plump, tingled with the thought of it.

It was all I could do not to touch them.

Yet he pulled away, eyes warm and smile soft. “But not yet. First, let's watch this film and see just what makes the modern woman tick.”

Hand going to the tie of my robe, he pulled the knot before I might react. Off went my robe, followed with a flourish of my cotton nightgown until I was naked, gaping, and reaching out for anything to cover myself.

Chin in his hand, he cocked his head and considered. “Perfect breasts. Perfect sex. Please don’t have your pubic hair ripped out the way women do these days. I love those beautifully scented, soft curls just as they are.”

Already stepping into my underthings, red up to my ears, I tripped once I grasped what he said. “Women remove… that hair? Why?”

“Cunnilingus. Though the fashion fluctuates decade to decade, in these times, many men complain when their partner likes to be licked between her thighs and the lady’s sex is in the natural state. Call me old fashioned, but I disagree. I want to smell and feel all of you.”

My breasts were covered in thin satin, and after I snatched the pink dress from my tormentor, my body was reasonably concealed. But I felt the oddest pulsating warmth between my legs. And by the way Vladislov winked and took another deep breath, I realized he could smell it.

“I can, and your arousal smells divine. I bet you taste like honey.”

And I was growing offended to be so outmatched. “Such talk is for husbands and wives!”

“As we are married, I knew you’d like it.” Hooking my arm through his, he led me stumbling from the closet. “But enough verbal foreplay. Let’s go watch this film the female population is aflutter over.”

“I don’t trust you one bit. I’ve changed my mind about the movie.”

“Too late!” As if playfully offended, he mimicked a wound to his heart. “Besides, I do not decide what women like. Look on social media and see the unrelenting posts about this film. You want to immerse yourself in the modern woman’s psyche, there is no better jumping off point.”

Waltzed through the rooms, spun until my legs caught the sofa, I plopped down on the cushion. Vladislov stretching out at my side, remote in hand.

His fingers moved faster than the program might load, which I could sense annoyed him, as he was trying so hard to play cool and not pin me in place.

The film began, looking so real compared to films from the 50s—like standing right there with the actors. The sound of waves crashing was so fresh that I was enraptured with this magic.

A girl taken captive by a handsome, evil man. One who swears she will fall in love with him.

I don’t think my jaw closed the entire rest of the film. Every moral part of me knew I needed to look away, but they were naked! How could I have known the brazen filth that women relished in these days?

So beyond what I had anticipated… the beautiful woman seduced the man who caught her in his web. She took his member into her mouth!

Oh lord! He licked her between her legs!

Cunnilingus Vladislov had teased me about, though she was hairless—as he had also mentioned.

And when they made love—if the violence in which they took one another’s body could be called that—she enjoyed it.

Women enjoyed sex?

“Very much so, Pearl. Modern women have taken sexual control of their bodies and enjoy the act even more than the man in many instances.”

“I don’t understand this.”

How the villain showered the wanton captive with praise.

How she adored him, despite the fact that he kidnapped… stolen her away.

I’d been stolen and locked in a crypt.

I’d felt a cock thrust in me, known the tearing of delicate tissues. Hated all of it.

I had climaxed with a scream just as the actress continued to do.

But her cries were of joy.

I had never been sated in such a way.

And seeing this…

It made me sad.

Frustrated.

Angry.

Disgustingly eager.

Did women really like these things?

On a couch, in a room I had never seen, I sat beside a character from all human nightmares and grew confused at the pulse growing between my legs each time the actors coupled.

“I don’t understand.” But I understood enough to grasp why Vladislov moved to kneel before me. Why he was gently pushing up my skirt, inserting his frame between my weakening knees.

Parting me so the slit in my step-in might be