Lords of Wrath (Royals of Forsyth University, #2)

by Angel Lawson

There’s a rustle, the whisper of a hard exhale, and then Killian’s voice behind me. “You’re dreaming about it, aren’t you?” he’s saying, something both warm and cold—a tongue—grazing the skin above my jugular. “You’re dreaming about being split open on my dick.” My belly twists with want at the words, at the memory, and I sink deeper into the phantom hands on my body, teasing and toying with my nipples. I can sense the strength in the fingers that tuck below my bottom, fisting into the crotch of my panties, yanking it aside, exposing my heat to the cold. Knuckles against my backside. Fingertips sliding through my folds, prodding, exploring. I unthinkingly push back, seeking the warmth and touch, my breaths coming faster. It’s a good place to be, indulging in the build of my thrumming pulse, the quiver in my thighs, the softness of the whispered words against the shell of my ear. “Because you’re mine, now.” I don’t really understand it at first—the pressure against my entrance, the heat of all the skin pushing against my back—until the first sting of pain comes. I think I make a sound, but I feel it more than I hear it. It’s small and pained, but mostly surprised. This is supposed to be a better place. A place without the hurt and agony. “Shh. You’re still dreaming,” the voice is saying, the pressure digging deeper. “Your pussy’s fucking soaked. That’s how much you want this.” A hand grabs my thigh from behind, pushing it forward, rolling me almost completely to my stomach...