Chapter 138
Darth
Why is her blood unclaimable? My lips burn like they have been dipped in molten fire. I have never felt anything like this before, or maybe I have… That one time Cleopatra introduced that blood into my system, I felt that way too, but this–this is even more intense.
I feel like I am being electrocuted and burned alive at the same time.
What is it about Deckard and the things he possesses? It is like he placed a mark on them, some kind of power beyond my understanding. What sort of force is this? How does he do it? How does he make the things he touches impossible to take?
Cleopatra cautions me for biting directly into her, but I don’t understand why she is so mad. I am the one and only feared King of Rogues, now the Alpha of Alphas. I should be able to claim whoever I want, whenever I want. And Amica–her fair, smooth skin just sitting there, waiting for me to take it–she is irresistible!
I don’t know if it’s something about her stubbornness, the way she defies me, or the fire in her eyes that challenges my power. But the more she resists, the more I crave her.
I am someone who is never defied. I take what I want, whenever I want, because I am feared. But Amica… it seems like she does not fear me at all. I killed her Alpha–she should be terrified of what I could do to her.
She should submit to me. Even if it’s out of fear, she should bow, but she refuses. She is unshaken, as if I hold no power over her.
The first time I kidnapped her, I expected terror, desperation–anything but that infuriating defiance. But she didn’t cower. She didn’t even tremble. Instead, she dared to command me, tearing off a wedding dress like it meant nothing, like she would not be forced into anything she didn’t want.
And now, she walks around this castle, looking me in the eye, giving me conditions?
Speaking of that, I need to take the head of that worthless rogue, Ben, for putting me in a situation where I embarrassed myself–biting into something I should never have touched. The thought alone makes my blood boil.
I sit, deep in thought, replaying everything. Every challenge. Every defiance. Every time she looks at me like I am just another man instead of the most feared Alpha alive.
I cannot wait to clip Amaka’s wings, to make her kneel. But Cleopatra says I can’t rush the bonding ceremony just yet, and that only makes the rage burn hotter.
I can’t wait to see Amaka reject Deckard.
I will do everything in my power to make sure she chooses me as her mate instead. Right now, she is the only piece of the puzzle standing between me and my position as the most powerful and feared alpha alive.
I sit there, grunting and grumbling as the battle rages in my mind.
Then, one of the rogues arrives, presenting Mary–the doctor.
There is something strange about her. I know I am feared and hated because of my ruthless nature, but she doesn’t seem to share that fear. Why? What does she even want from me? I wonder as I listen to her speak.
When she finally says what she has to say, I can’t believe she’s being serious. Why would she even want me?
From what I’ve gathered, she had a relationship with Deckard, which must have caused a rift between her and Amaka. And now… she wants me.
I hear what she has to say, but I can’t believe she’s being serious. Why would she even want me?
From what I’ve gathered, she had a relationship with Deckard, which must have caused a rift between her and Amica. And now… she wants me.
She didn’t even take time to mourn the death of her lover. Yet, for some reason, I find myself intrigued by what she has to offer.
I can smell the fear in her, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she moves closer. Why is she doing this if she’s so afraid of me? I don’t understand
her
I sit there, observing her like some kind of specimen. She shudders, trying to hide her fear, yet she still steps forward–approaching the very thing
that terrifies her.
It’s as if she’s fighting two battles within herself.
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And then, slowly, she reaches out, placing her hand lower on me, gently massaging my cock while leaning in for a kiss.
I look at her like she’s lost her mind. Why would she even try to kiss me after all I’ve suffered–the burn still fresh on my lips?
But I know exactly what I want from her… and it’s not a kiss.
I looked at her like she had lost her mind. Why would she even try to kiss me when my lips still carried the sting of past wounds?
But I knew exactly what I wanted from her–and it wasn’t a kiss.
I guided her head downward, directing her to where she truly needed to be.
She put in the effort to please me, but it wasn’t enough. I craved more.
I had fun choking her as I watched life almost drifting from her eyes; gives me satisfaction. Maybe it is because I have taken so many lives, so common foreplay is boring to me until I feel like I have control of life, having the ability almost to take it and bring it all back…that gasp for air send unexplainable eaves of satisfaction through me! The only thing that comes next to that is taking a life.
Mary could have stopped if she wanted; she could have told me to stop choking her even though I knew that she was fighting for her breath with every little air that she managed to take in but she didn’t,
She chose to be here. She chose to be treated this way—like a submissive plaything, a slave to desire.
And in that moment, I realized that was exactly what I needed.
Someone to use. Someone to dominate. Someone to satisfy my every craving. And Mary? She was perfect for it.
Blonde. Petite. Willing. Obedient.
I stopped pushing her down any further.
“Get up.” I ordered.
She lifted her head instantly, eyes wide with obedience.
I scanned her from head to toe, considering all the things I could do to her, all the ways I could take my pleasure.
“Follow me.”
I stood, and she trailed behind like a loyal pet, her footsteps light, barely making a sound.
Leading her into my master bedroom, I turned to her.
“Take off your clothes.”
Without another glance, I strode to my wardrobe, retrieving a few choice items–things I knew would serve my desires well against her delicate, yielding body.
I placed them on the bed and looked down at her smooth, almost naked little body..
“Pick your poison,” I said.
I could sense the confusion within her, but she tried to mask it, giving me the impression that she was used to this.
Slowly, she bent over, making sure I had a clear view of her arch, and picked one of the horse–like looking whips before handing it to me.
“One more,” I said, and that was when she couldn’t hide it anymore.
She gulped slowly before picking up a pair of handcuffs, and I couldn’t help but smirk.
“Lay down flat, Doctor Mary,” I commanded, and she obeyed
As she did. I took off my clothes and walked over to her with a jar of oil..
“Permit me to oil you up, Doctor,” I said.
She nodded slowly, and I proceeded, pouring the oil onto her chest, watching as it slipped down her breast and trailed toward her peach.
My hands followed the oil, kneading her boobs as though they were dough, and a soft moan escaped her lips
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My hand slipped from her mangoes down to her papaya. She tightened her thighs together as my fingers went in for a massage.
“Open up, Doctor,” I said softly.
She slowly widened her thighs for me, revealing everything–her melon and hollow pear. I knew she could take all of me, but that wasn’t even what I was interested in.
As I gently played with her cherry pit, feeling how slick her whole body was with oil, more than just my fingers found their way into her hollow pear. She moaned as if I were already deep inside, but I hadn’t even begun.
“Bend over, Doctor.”
I slid my already glistening hand away from her and reached for the whip and cuffs.
“Give me your hands,” I commanded.
She placed them behind her back as though she had committed a crime.
Mary was already lying face down, obeying like a servant to a master, and the sight only fueled the fire inside me.
I brought the whip down against her ass, hard, and she let out a sharp cry.
Those were music to my ears.
I poured a generous amount of oil into my hand and massaged myself as I brought the whip down on Mary, harder than before. She screamed in pain!
That scream…
“Yes!” I exhaled, striking her again.
“Oh, Scar!” she cried.
“Stay still, Doctor! Tell me how much you like it!” I ordered.
I whipped her again, watching her light skin turn red, and the sight alone filled me with the utmost satisfaction.
“Yes, hit me harder,” she sobbed.
At that point, I didn’t care whether she was being sincere or not–I just swung again, my hand moving faster over myself.
“Arch that peach, Doctor!” I commanded hurriedly, pouring the remaining oil over her peach as she obeyed.
The sight of her papaya glistening, dripping–practically begging me to enter–only made my hunger intensify. But I had a better surprise for her.
Without hesitation, I pushed myself into her tight plum. She collapsed from her arched position, gasping.
“Oh, Scar! You’re so big!” she cried as I felt her plum stretch, expanding to take all of me in.
I then fucked her so hard, like a primal savage, that I, fumbling her little breast and kissing her ears, suddenly felt a hut rush from her…piss or cum, I have no idea, but that drove me to cum faster than I expected pouring into her to fill her up as I scoffed and moan “Let me taste that cum scar!” she whispered and I had to hold on a little, taking myself out fro mer to place my dick in her mouth as she sucked the rest of the cum I was holding
I
