The Villainess Chose the Incubus novel · Chapter 3 of 16

Chapter 3: The Cuffs

"Then show me," I said.

Dionisio looked at me, confused.

I walked over to the wall, took the small cuffs off the hook, and held them up in front of his face.

"If they’re not for what I think, prove it to me."

"Irene."

"I want to know what they feel like."

"You don’t know what you’re asking for."

"Neither do you." I placed the velvet in his palm. "I’ve waited three years for you to ask me for something. I’m asking you."

The comments from the ceiling exploded.

"SHE’S ASKING FOR IT!!!"

"This wasn’t in the book."

"I like this Irene."

Dionisio closed his hand around the cuffs.

He took a deep breath, and his jaw muscles tensed.

"Sit on the bed," he said, and it was an order.

I obeyed.

I felt the firm mattress beneath my thighs, the cool sheets.

He knelt in front of me and took one of my wrists with a gentleness I hadn’t expected.

He closed the first cuff with a soft click.

Then the other.

The velvet hugged my skin without squeezing.

He lifted my arms and hooked them to a ring on the headboard.

I reclined against the pillows, arms raised and body open.

He stood at the foot of the bed and looked at me.

I swallowed.

I’d never felt so exposed, or so safe.

"Look at you," he murmured.

He took off his jacket, his tie, his shirt, never taking his eyes off me.

His chest was broad and pale, sculpted like a statue, with a white scar running across his forearm.

He climbed onto the bed, between my knees.

His fingers traced the edge of my pajamas.

"This is in the way."

He unbuttoned my blouse, button by button, slow, slow, until my breasts were bare.

He ran his thumb over a nipple, and a gasp escaped me.

"You’re so beautiful when you can’t escape."

"I don’t want to escape."

"I know." He barely smiled, and it was the most dangerous smile I’d ever seen on him. "That’s why you’re here."

He lowered his mouth.

He kissed my neck, my shoulders, my breasts.

When his tongue circled my nipple and he sucked hard, I cried out and pulled at the chains.

They clanged against the iron.

"That’s it," he whispered against my skin. "Tell me what you want."

"More."

"More what?"

"Touch me."

"Where?"

"Anywhere you want." I breathed, desperate. "Dionisio, please."

He yanked my silk pants down with both hands.

I was naked.

I felt his eyes travel over me, and his breathing grew deeper.

He settled between my legs, spread them with his hands, and kissed me where I was burning most.

First, a brush of his lips.

Then his tongue, flat and hot, from bottom to top.

I arched against the chains, moaning.

He licked me with a centuries-old hunger, slow and methodical, tracing circles around my clit until I couldn’t think about anything else.

"God," I panted. "Dionisio."

He slid two fingers inside me without warning, curling them forward.

I screamed.

He touched me with terrifying precision, as if he’d studied my body for years, and every thrust sent a shudder through me.

I came with a sob, pulling at the cuffs, my thighs trembling on either side of his head.

He didn’t stop.

He kept licking me as I convulsed, and made me come again, deeper this time.

When he finally lifted his face, his lips were glistening and his eyes were hungry.

"Good girl," he said.

Those two words ran all the way down my spine.

He pushed his pants down with one hand.

He was big, hard, veined, and my whole body clenched with need at the sight of him.

He positioned himself against my entrance and stopped.

"Look at me."

I looked at him.

He entered slowly, inch by inch, stretching me, filling me, until his pelvis touched mine.

We both let out a long moan.

"Irene," he whispered, his forehead resting against mine. "Three years."

"I know."

"Three years without touching you."

"Touch me now."

He began to move.

Slowly, deeply, with long thrusts that lifted my hips.

Each thrust reached deep into my belly.

I pulled at the cuffs, shaking the headboard, and he gripped my hips and lifted them, entering me even deeper.

"Harder," I begged.

"No."

"Dionisio."

"I could hurt you."

"Do it."

He growled, and his rhythm quickened.

The iron bed banged against the stone wall, and the sound of our bodies filled the basement.

I felt something tightening deep inside me, a cord about to snap.

"Come with me," he ordered, his voice hoarse. "Now."

I came screaming his name, my hands clenched inside the cuffs, and my body squeezed him so tightly that his voice broke.

He came right after, buried deep inside me, with a roar that didn’t sound entirely human.

He collapsed on top of me, panting, his forehead against my shoulder.

I smiled, exhausted.

That was when I felt his body go rigid.

He lifted his head.

His eyes were black again.

"Unlock them," he pleaded, his voice barely a thread. "The cuffs. The key’s on the table."

"What’s wrong?"

"Unlock them now."

He reached over and yanked them open himself with a click.

He freed my wrists.

He got off the bed, his hands trembling, his back to me.

I saw the muscle in his back move.

Something stirred beneath his skin, between his shoulder blades, like an animal under a sheet.

Long, thin bumps began to raise the skin along his spine.

Spines.

A row of dark, knife-sharp spines tore through the skin along his back from the inside.

“Don’t look,” he said.

And he ran out of the basement, slamming the steel door shut behind him.

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