Something real was coming. Panic rose. “Makros, I beg you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, desperate, imploring. “Don’t do this. I’ll do anything. Anything but this.”
She reached for him not in defiance, not in rebellion, but in sheer desperation. Her fingers had barely grazed his wrist before he moved.
Slap.
The sheer force of it snapped her head to the side. A sharp sting bloomed across her cheek, hot and unforgiving.
Another strike landed on the opposite side of her face before she could even register the pain, before her mind could process the shock. Harder.
Her ears rang, her vision blurring for a fraction of a second. The taste of blood pooled on her tongue.
And then, his hands were on her dress.
Tears!
Ripping!
Destroying!
The fabric yielded beneath his grip, giving way to her exposed skin—her bra barely holding her breasts in place, her stomach taut, her panties the last flimsy barrier between vulnerability and violation.
Leila gasped, her hands flying up to shield herself, but he was faster. Stronger. He grabbed her wrists and flipped her over, pressing her down against the mattress with a weight that stole the breath from her lungs.
“Makros, stop!” she choked out, thrashing beneath him. Her nails clawed at the sheets, at his arms, at anything that could break his hold. “Please, please don't do this!”
There was no mercy in his grasp, no hesitation in his touch.
Only possession.
Only control.
Only him.
Chapter Six
Ravaged
MAKROS’SPOV
I flipped her over effortlessly, her body easily bent beneath my hands, yet her eyes burned with defiance. Good. I thrived on her resistance.
“Makros, please don't,” she said in earnest plea.
But, I grabbed a fistful of her wild red hair, yanking her head back enough for my lips to graze her ear. My breath came in hot, and deliberate. “Shh. Shh. You don’t get to beg me, Leila. You get to endure.”
A shiver ran through her, not in anticipation of pleasure, but in pure and unbridled fear. She didn’t want this. She most certainly didn’t crave for it. But I was more than willing to give it to her.
Who cared what she wanted? I owned her. I ruled over her body, her mind and her choices.
Keeping my grip tighter on her hair, I brought down my palm hard against her perfect, round ass. A sharp cry escaped her lips as her skin flushed red from the impact. She arched against me, her body betraying the pleasure hiding within the pain.
“Oh, yeah,” I growled, grabbing her soft ass, kneading it, reveling in the way she twitched beneath my touch.
The thin scrap of underwear covering her pussy–my treasure, was an insult. I grabbed her panties and tore them away like they were never meant to exist. Another strike landedon her other butt cheek. Her gasp was swallowed whole by the mattress when I pressed her face down.
She whimpered, wiggling beneath me, trying to free herself from the restraints of my hold. She could struggle all she wanted but it was all a waste of effort. She ought to know better that she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Behave yourself, Sunshine,” I murmured darkly, my voice filled with possession.
