Yvonne's POV
Oh God.
I couldn't breathe.
Every brutal thrust carved his mark into me, branding me in ways I couldn't erase.
The fact that I had just lost my virginity, twice, no longer mattered. All that existed now was the intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain coursing through my body.
He held me firmly in the air, my only anchor was the iron grip around my waist and my legs wrapped tightly around him.
His movements were relentless, mechanical, like a well-oiled machine designed to break me apart and put me back together again.
My back arched as he drove into me, each thrust dragging a cry from my lips. His grip on my waist was bruising, holding me in place like I was his to use, to ruin, to claim.
I hated him.
I hated the way he made me crave this, the way he knew exactly how to shatter me and put me back together in the same breath.
No man had ever made me feel this way during sex, nor had I ever cried during it. But now, things I had never experienced were coming back tenfold.
I didn't even need to touch my clit for more pleasure. No, he was hitting the right spot—like he knew my body inside and out—and I was losing my damn mind.
Then he threw me down on the bed, his dick pulling out of me with a wet sound. I looked at his dripping cock.
That was me.
All of me.
I was so wet, and I nearly whined. Can you believe it? I nearly whined at the thought that he was stopping.
I spread my legs. "Please," I begged. I was going to hate this later—when the throes of pleasure were gone and I was back in the chamber, remembering how I had begged for more of his cock.
But right now, I couldn't care less.
He didn't immediately put it in.
He just looked at me, his eyes so dark they seemed to have no pupils.
His cock bobbed—red and angry-looking, the head fat and swollen.
And my mouth watered. It looked so mouthwatering.
I wanted it in my mouth.
"You hate me, do you not? Then why do you tremble for me?" he said.
I shook my head, about to drop to my knees and slobber all over that cock, but he immediately turned me around.
Before I could even remember my damn name, he was back in.
He slammed into me with so much force that if he weren't holding my neck, I would have toppled over.
But I didn't.
And he kept ramming into me, his hand tight around my throat.
"You call me a monster, yet you still crave my touch."
He said the words with so much venom, then slammed against me so hard that I suddenly felt something deep in my stomach.
I looked down and gasped—I could see the outline of his cock pressing against my lower stomach.
"Oh God, oh God," I cried as his large arms held my waist, keeping me steady while he pistoned in and out. Slow at first, then faster, until all I could do was take it.
And I screamed. I didn't care that the whole palace could hear me. I just couldn't stop.
"Ahhhh… ugh… faster, faster, please," I begged.
Thwack.
A loud smack against my pussy made me let out a drawn-out moan, my body shuddering. I was coming—just from him slapping my pussy.
"I have warned you against speaking in that language,"
But he didn't stop fucking me. He kept going, pushing me through my climax, amplifying the pleasure until it was unbearable.
I covered my mouth with my hand, but he yanked it away, pulled my arm behind my back, and held my throat against his shoulder as he kept pounding into me.
"S… slow down, p… please," I cried. He was going too fast—I was just coming down from one orgasm, and another was already building.
"Say it…" Thrust.
"My name…" Thrust.
"I would hear it…" Thrust.
"How much…" Thrust.
"You despise me…" Thrust.
"Even as I ruin you…" Thrust.
Each word was punctuated by a deep, punishing thrust. He would pull out, then slam back in with a force that rocked my body.
I shook my head. I had never said his name—not even in my thoughts—and even with my pleasure-addled brain, I refused.
I couldn't do it.
"Say it."
He didn't growl. He didn't snarl. His voice was calm, yet it sent shivers down my spine.
But I still shook my head.
I was not going to succumb.
And he chuckled—the first time I had ever heard this monster laugh.
It was a laugh filled with dark amusement.
"As expected, you are ever stubborn," he said.
My heart skipped a beat.
What was he going to do?
But I wasn't awake to find out, because he rolled his hips and slammed into my sweet spot three times in rapid succession.
I convulsed, my climax hitting me like never before.
Darkness crept into the edges of my vision.
And soon, it was all black.
But even as I fainted, he didn't stop.
The monster kept going.
I didn't know how long I was out, but I woke up to the sound of rustling.
I groaned, my body aching in places I didn't even know could ache. My thighs trembled as I tried to sit up, and that's when I saw her.
Klara.
She was kneeling between my legs, her head lowered in quiet concentration.
"What… what are you doing?" My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.
She looked up, meeting my gaze with a blank expression, then resumed her work. I followed her movements, watching as she pressed a warm cloth between my thighs, her touch oddly gentle.
Then I looked down.
Oh God.
My breath hitched.
My inner thighs were raw, marked by deep red marks. And my..
I swallowed hard.
I was swollen, red, aching.
A flush of heat crept up my neck as I realized how thoroughly I had been taken. My body had the evidence written all over it.
Klara let out a small sigh. "Don't move too much," she muttered. "We need to make sure nothing goes to waste."
I frowned, confusion flickering through my dazed mind. "What?"
She finally lifted her head, her expression unreadable.
"The king needs an heir and his seed must take hold or else….."
And just like that, the soreness, the bruises, the unbearable ache, none of it compared to the cold realization that settled in my chest.