I arched away from him as his head dipped lower. His mouth brushed over my pelvic bone, soft as a sigh.
I jerked hard, shoving my hips down into the mattress to escape the heat of his mouth.
He followed me anyway.
I panted through my nose, breath coming in furious, stuttering bursts, like an animal cornered and too wild to surrender.
Hatred flooded me—hatred for him, for this, for the way he made me feel like I was coming apart.
But beneath it, another feeling festered.
Self-loathing.
I did this.
I let this happen.
I kissed him on the balcony. I let my thoughts slip where they shouldn't have. I let my eyes linger too long.
He must have seen it.
He must have known the second he stepped out of that car that I was already marked.
The thought made my stomach lurch.
It doesn't matter. None of it matters.
But deep inside, a voice I didn't want to hear whispered the truth.
I'm too fucking stupid. Too stubborn. Too high on whatever sick thrill this is.
Because if I were honest—
Brutally, shamefully honest—
Some traitorous part of me wanted this.
Wanted him.
Because I had never been touched like this before.
All my life, I kept to myself.
I tiptoed around my family—the people I once called my own—careful never to take up too much space, never to make a mistake that might give them a reason to look at me with disgust.
And if I'm being honest…
I was never really interested. Never curious about this. About men. About desire. About what it might feel like to want.
But Zephyr—
Oh mon Dieu.
He didn't ask.
He didn't pretend to be anything other than what he was.
He looked at me and said I was his.
And some wretched, hidden part of me… liked it.
I hated myself for it.
I hated that even now, with my legs pinned apart and my dignity stripped bare, some part of me was lit up inside, aching with something that felt too much like anticipation.
But… I'm married.
I'm married to a man who would rather break me than ever touch me with anything resembling affection.
And Zephyr—he's my husband's nephew.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart thumping so loudly it almost drowned out my thoughts.
Should I? Should I let this happen? Should I pretend this is anything other than what it is?
A hysterical laugh tried to bubble up in my chest.
Do I even have a choice?
I tugged against the ropes again, as if to prove a point.
They didn't budge.
No.
No, I didn't have a choice.
I was tied up.
God help me, I thought, a strangled little laugh echoing in my head. I'm tied up and debating if I should feel guilty about adultery.
Because even if I tried to deny it—
Some part of me didn't feel guilty at all.
But despite everything—despite my own traitorous body—I would resist.
Who the fuck did he think he was?
I wasn't some helpless thing he could just claim because he'd decided I belonged to him.
Even if I was tied up, half-naked, and trembling.
Zephyr's grip shifted on my hips, rough and possessive as he yanked me down the bed a few inches. The ropes at my wrists pulled tight, biting into my skin until I gasped, my body forced to arch for him, leaving me completely exposed.
Air kissed my slick skin, making me feel both raw and humiliated.
Then—
Another soft kiss.
This time, an inch above the place I needed least for him to touch.
A strangled whimper burst past my lips, muffled by the tape but still unmistakable. My chest heaved. My heart slammed itself against my ribs, furious and terrified all at once.
He paused.
I felt him smile against my skin.
Heat flooded my cheeks. My knees jerked together in a desperate, useless attempt to shield myself. But he was stronger.
So much stronger.
His breath fanned across my swollen, aching flesh.
And then—
A single tear slipped from the corner of my eye.
I clenched my jaw. I wouldn't sob. I wouldn't give him that.
But I couldn't stop the next sound that tore from my throat when his teeth scraped, slow and deliberate, over the sensitive mound of flesh at the apex of my thighs.
I screamed.
My body arched up off the mattress, instinct shoving me away from the bite, only for me to collapse right back into his waiting mouth.
I gasped, every nerve lighting up at once.
His tongue dragged over my clit. A low, feral groan rumbled against me, vibrating so deep that my hips jolted in shock.
I threw my head back, eyes rolling as a rush of heat flooded my belly.
Pleasure, dark and shameful, coiled inside me.
No.
I refused to let it drown out everything else.
I refused to forget why this was wrong.
Why he was wrong. He's my nephew-in-law!
Riding the edge of that rising wave was disgust.
Disgust at myself for feeling anything other than hate.
Disgust at my own body for the way it responded to him without my permission.
For the wetness that slicked my thighs. For the need that is curling tighter every time he groaned.
He is taking something I never chose to give.
"Fuck," he growled against my clit, his voice thick and wrecked. The sound shot straight through me like a live wire.
"You're so fucking creamy," he rasped, the words scraping every last shred of my dignity raw.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
No. No, no.
But I felt it—my pussy clenched, throbbing at his filthy praise.
I could smell my own arousal, slick and obscene, sliding down the curve of my ass.
I shook.
I shook because I didn't know what else to fucking do.
Because my body was betraying me in ways I couldn't stop.
His tongue slid the length of my slit, slow and savoring, before he closed his mouth over my clit and sucked.
And then—just like he promised—
He bit.
He fucking bit me.