Javier's POV
I gazed upon her, still draped in that accursed robe. I had bid her to remove it, yet, in her defiance, she had seen fit to obey but half my command.
I ought to punish such insolence.
But I did not.
Not yet.
Instead, I brought the goblet to my lips, the dark wine searing down my throat as my eyes held hers, those fierce, untamed emeralds that glared back at me.
How foolish.
How tempting.
I would break her.
I would ruin her.
I would see that delicate face contort with pleasure only I could bestow, watch as her stubbornness crumbled beneath the weight of my touch.
With a slow, deliberate motion, I let the goblet fall from my grasp, uncaring of where it landed. Each step I took toward her sent a shiver coursing through her body, her breath coming in sharp, uneven waves. Her chest rose, nipples hardening in anticipation, though I had yet to lay a hand upon her.
She was watching me, waiting.
And when at last I stood at the foot of the bed, she parted her thighs, lifting her legs onto the mattress, offering herself up for my taking.
I should have taken her then. Should have undone my breeches, driven into her, and spilled my seed deep within, ensuring my heir took root in her womb.
Yet, I did not.
Not yet.
For my hunger was greater than mere necessity. It was an urge far darker, far deeper. I could not simply claim her, I needed to possess her.
To unravel her.
To watch as she shattered beneath me.
I seized her leg, twisting her with little effort. She flopped onto the bed, face-first, her breath hitching as I grasped her neck, my fingers pressing into the delicate skin. A gasp fled her lips when I hauled her upright, her back flush against my chest.
With one hand firm around her throat, I reached for the offending fabric that concealed what was mine. A single, sharp pull, and the cloth tore, baring the fullness of her breast to the cold air.
"Ohh Fuck," She moaned, a long, shuddering sound that had no place here.
Thwack.
A sharp slap against her breast silenced her. She gasped, her body arching.
"How oft have I warned thee," I murmured, my voice a low drawl against her ear, "not to speak in that wretched tongue?"
She trembled, yet there was defiance in the way she met my gaze, her lips parted as though she might dare a reply.
Foolish girl.
I yanked her head back, resting it upon my shoulder as my fingers traveled lower. The robe, now nothing more than a tattered remnant, draped at her waist. I left it. Let her remain half-cloaked in her shame.
Her eyes—glazed, dazed—sought mine, her mouth a wordless plea. A weaker man might have bent to that silent call. I was no such man.
I was going to ruin her.
A chuckle rumbled deep in my chest as my hand slid down, lower still. I found her bare, her body betraying her. My fingers traced her slickness, parting her, testing her.
When I withdrew, I examined the wetness that coated my fingers before pressing them to her lips.
"Suck," I commanded.
She hesitated, her green eyes burning with silent rebellion. A battle waged within her, yet I knew the victor before it had begun.
Slowly, hesitantly, her lips parted. Her tongue flicked against my fingers before she took them into her mouth, warm and wet.
A wicked satisfaction curled within me.
I watched her, the way her lashes fluttered, the way her breath quickened. And as she obeyed, I pressed forward, my body claiming what was already mine.
She tensed, her body gripping me like a vice, hot and right. I groaned, a sound of pure satisfaction.
Still, she did not protest.
Curious.
Yet it mattered not. Whether she begged or remained silent, the result would be the same.
I pushed deeper, and then I felt it. The last barrier between us.
A pause, fleeting.
Then I thrust forward.
Deflowering her.
She cried out, her body tensing, the sound torn from her throat like a wounded thing. I did not move. Not yet. Instead, I tightened my grip on her neck, watching as tears welled in those defiant green eyes, then fell—hot, silent—trailing down her cheeks to splatter upon my chest.
Weak.
Pitiful.
I waited but a moment longer before withdrawing, slow, deliberate—until only my tip remained. Then, without warning, I drove back into her.
Her mouth fell open, caught between pain and pleasure.
And then I let go.
Thwap.
Thwap.
Thwop.
The wet, sinful sound of our joining filled the chamber, each thrust met with a lewd slickness. She was dripping, her body betraying her as it welcomed me deeper, tighter, until I was lost in the heat of her.
I chuckled darkly, lowering my lips to her ear.
"Is this where the defiance ends, little dove? Or shall I fuck it out of you?"
Then I bent her over, keeping myself buried deep within her as I thrust, sharp, unrelenting strokes that had her body shuddering with every pull. I made certain my length dragged against her tender walls, drawing out every gasp, every quiver.
She moaned, long and breathless, pushing back against me, her body seeking more. I raised a brow, momentarily amused.
"Look at you," I murmured, voice thick with dark amusement. "Weeping so sweetly, yet you take me like a common whore." A sharp smack landed on her ass, and she jolted, gasping.
"More," she whimpered. "Please, more."
She turned, her face contorted in pleasure, her hips slamming back against me in desperate rhythm.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
Each smack left her trembling, her cries muffled against the pillow.
"No," I growled. "Look at me."
I wrenched her upright, pulling out just enough to lift her by the waist. Her legs wrapped around me instinctively, and I drove back in, sinking to the hilt.
"Look at me," I commanded, my grip ironclad. "And know who owns you."
And with each word, I drove the lesson deeper.
Would she break? Would she beg?
I would find out soon enough.