Once upon a time, I thought love was a fairytale.
My prince was a Beast with blood on his hands and ice in his veins. My family offered to save me. The only price: leaving the tattered pieces of my heart behind.
Our love was irrational. Cruel. Unforgiving. Nothing like the storybooks said it should be—but it was perfect.
The longer we were apart, the more I lost myself. He was vicious and domineering, but I craved the submission. Together we were destructive, but I was addicted to the devastation. Still, I thought titles mattered. To my family I was princess, and to the Beast I was slave. I was too naïve to understand that even though he’d been my captor, he’d broken the shackles on my soul.
Once upon a time, I thought love meant happily ever after.
Now I know better.
“Greedy girl,” he said. “Don’t you know your orgasm is mine? I own this.” He sucked my fingers until they were clean and I moaned, rubbing my thighs together. I was so overstimulated, I was sure I was going to come just from the friction. I rubbed my thighs harder and he laughed darkly, pushing me off him. I fell to the ground.
Eyes still locked, Anteros reached behind and flipped over the coffee table. The glass crashed and shattered. Some shards hit my thigh, but I didn’t think about that or the mess or the possible danger because moments later Anteros was on the ground with me.
He crawled between my legs and spread them wide in the new space. I got to my elbows, watching him rapt.
“If you come without permission,” he said, licking a long, razor sharp trail from behind my knee to inside my thigh, “you will be punished.”
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