The Villains Must Win-Chapter 346: (+18) Alistair Cain 6

Selene’s heart raced as Alistair’s icy fingers closed around her wrists, his ancient power radiating from him like a palpable force.

She knew better than to resist. He could snap her neck with a flick of his wrist.

He guided her backward onto the plush bed, the silken sheets caressing her skin as she settled against them.

Selene gazed up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, drinking in the sight of his lean, muscular form beneath his clothes, silhouetted by flickering candlelight.

Alistair loomed over her like a dark god, his piercing gaze boring into hers with an intensity that made her squirm.

"You expect ropes and chains," he purred, trailing one finger along the curve of her jawline. "To be bound and broken."

His hand slid lower, ghosting over the swell of her breasts before coming to rest on the flat plane of her stomach.

Selene gasped at the contact, muscles clenching instinctively beneath his touch.

"But I have no need for such crude restraints," Alistair continued, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Not when you’ll give yourself to me so willingly."

He leaned in close, his cool breath washing over the sensitive skin of her neck. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Selene’s pulse fluttered wildly beneath the surface, betraying her arousal despite the fear coiling tight in her belly.

Alistair’s hands skimmed up her sides, fingers curling around the delicate fabric of her gown. With a sharp tug, he tore it away, baring Selene’s naked flesh to his hungry gaze.

She arched into his touch as he explored every inch of newly exposed skin - calloused palms dragging over silken curves, fingertips circling achingly sensitive nipples until they pebbled beneath his ministrations.

"Your mind will be my greatest conquest," Alistair rasped against the shell of Selene’s ear. "I will shatter you piece by exquisite piece until all that remains is this...this perfect vessel for my pleasure."

He punctuated his words with a sharp nip to her earlobe, making Selene cry out in startled ecstasy. Her hips bucked instinctively, seeking friction against the throbbing ache between her thighs.

Alistair chuckled darkly at her response, one hand drifting lower to cup the juncture of her legs. "So eager," he murmured approvingly as he stroked along the damp seam of her sex. "Already so wet for me."

Selene keened low in her throat as Alistair’s fingers delved deeper, parting slick folds to circle the swollen bud of her clit. He worked the sensitive nub with ruthless precision, coaxing gasps and whimpers from Selene’s parted lips.

Just when she teetered on the brink of release, Alistair withdrew his touch completely. Selene sobbed at the loss, body trembling with unspent need.

"Patience," Alistair admonished with a wicked grin. "We’re only just beginning."

He reached for the nightstand, retrieving an assortment of toys and implements - from feather-light ticklers to heavy floggers, each one promising exquisite torment.

Selene’s eyes widened as she took in the array of devices, a fresh surge of both fear and anticipation flooding through her veins.

She knew that whatever Alistair had planned for her tonight would push her far beyond her limits...and she couldn’t wait to see how beautifully he could make her break.

The soul inside was really curious as to how this would play out.

He lifted her chin once more, thumb brushing her trembling lips—not fond, not possessive. Curious.

Observing a reaction he had elicited countless times from others yet found newly compelling on her.

"And," he whispered, leaning close enough that she tasted the coldness of him, "the moment your blood sings for me."

Selene froze. She did not know whether to fear him or surrender to him.

Alistair traced her jawline, a touch so light it felt like a question.

"Do not fear the bite," he murmured. "Death is not my offering. I offer descent. Collapse. Exquisite torment."

Her breath shuddered free.

"A virgin you shall remain," he continued, tone dark with promise. "My release requires no intertwining of bodies. Only the ruin of your . . . composure."

Reason warned her to flee. Her body did not move. The soul inside her was dead curious.

He leaned to her ear, lips grazing the shell of it. "Arch your back for me," he commanded softly, "like a well-trained little offering."

Her muscles obeyed before her mind did. Her spine arched in a perfect bow, her shoulders and heels alone touching the sheets.

"Good," he murmured—approval rolling over her like warm oil. One hand pressed firmly to her sternum, keeping her lifted.

Not choking. Not hurting. Simply controlling her breath, her posture, her awareness of him.

Her muscles trembled under the strain. Sweat beaded on her brow.

Alistair watched her with quiet hunger—not for flesh, but for the pleasure of torment.

"You will break beautifully," he whispered.

His hand drifted lower, skimming her bodice, tracing the curve of her breast. She gasped when his palm cupped her roughly, her nipple hardening instantly under his cold touch.

"You will scream for me before dawn," he promised. "And I will savor every sound."

His mouth claimed her other nipple, teeth grazing, then biting—sharp enough to force a cry from her throat. The pain spiraled downward, igniting a hunger she did not know she possessed.

Alistair chuckled against her skin, the vibration sending shivers through her chest. "Such a responsive creature," he said, not unkindly. "So eager to crumble."

He tormented her slowly, methodically—pinching, biting, withdrawing at the brink. He studied each twitch, each gasp, each futile attempt at composure.

She fell apart in escalating fragments, breathless moans melting into pleas whispered more to the darkness than to him.

Only when she was shaking uncontrollably did he finally allow release to claim her. It tore through her with violent sweetness, leaving her limp, sobbing, and undone.

Alistair watched her with quiet satisfaction.

"You are mine," he whispered, brushing a tear from her cheek. "And I always keep what is mine."

Before her breathing steadied, he reached for something beside the bed—a leather strap, supple and dark.

Her eyes widened at the sight, fear and anticipation twisting inside her like twin blades.

"We have only begun," he said.

Without warning, the strap struck her breast—a sharp sting that stole her breath but did not break skin. She arched with a startled cry.

Another strike followed, lower this time, blooming red across her stomach.

And another.