One woman. Three brothers. Which one will win her heart?

Adric is the oldest brother of three. They are each determined, dangerous, loyal and looking to stay safe in their damaged world. Adric wants Vidal as retribution, a prize. He stole her and claimed her as his own. Sharing her was their original plan for vengeance. But once Adric got Vidal in his grips, he’d fight his brothers, her family and the woman herself, to win her over. It’s not her love he wants, though. It’s her body. At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself as things unravel all around them.

Vidal has led a sheltered life. But when she is taken by Adric, she discovers the life she thought she had lived with her father was an illusion. Her fiancé, Douglas was not as he seemed either. Life with Adric causes her nothing but confusion. One minute she thinks he likes her, the next he proves he doesn’t. Vidal is unsure of her place in his life but doesn’t think going home is an option any longer or if she really wants to leave.

This is book one in the Cruel Masters series and can be enjoyed independently.

Publisher’s Note: This dark dystopian romance contains elements of action, adventure, mystery, suspense, elements of ménage, adult themes and power exchange. If any of these offend you, please do not purchase.

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Excerpt

“Are you frightened, pet?” he asked, his voice a velvety smoothness in her ears.

“No.”

Her thighs rubbed together, trying to satisfy the ache he created in her. To give heed to the mounting pressure he created. He would take, and take, and take from her, yet Vidal craved his possession. She needed the consuming of her body by his own, even if he ripped her autonomy and anything she lived for away from her. Even if she ended up needing him too much. She watched him. He observed her right back, his eyes going blacker, a growing neediness in the icy blue, as their silent war engaged. He stood there, the Dark Master, robbing her of breath, the soullessness in his eyes replaced by desire.

With a false complacency he pushed his jeans and boxers down past his lean hips and his muscular thighs, all the way down to the floor, kicking them aside without a further look. His eyes were fiery, the blue nearly gone, obsidian dilation coloring against the ring of iris.

He meant to make her pay. Whatever motivation he had for capturing her, he’d won. Slowly and with great intention, he placed his palm on her calf, sliding it upwards as he crawled onto the bed, a prowling beast ready to claim.

“You should be frightened,” he said, his silky voice making her breath hitch. “I said I’d destroy you.” His palm lay against her inner thigh, taunting and teasing. If he wanted, he could relieve her of all agony. Vidal knew he meant to have her suffer. He leaned in, the low huskiness of his whisper sending sweet chills across her flesh. “I will destroy you, sweet dove.”

He gently kissed her just under her ear, at her rapidly beating pulse point. “I’ll break you and put you back together, only to do it all over again.”

Turning her to face him, his fingers eased over the skin of her cheek, running them along the shell of her ear to the pout of her mouth, as he observed her. “Do you comprehend me, my Vidal? I own you, all of you. Your lips.” He kissed them with the lightest of kisses. Torture. He was torturing her.

“Your breasts.” His fingers circled her nipple, softly at first, making her whine at the building aggravation he was causing. With a vicious grin, his fingers pinched, the pain causing such pleasure that Vidal sucked in a great gasp of air. Her arms dropped from the positioning he’d commanded as her fingers wound in his magnificent hair.

His tongue swept along the nipple he’d just injured, a salve of absolution. “Your beautiful cunt.” Rough as the burn of sandpaper along a fine wood, his voice wounded. Fingers slid down to cup her, not giving her any rest or satisfaction.

His mouth hovered over hers, his nose brushing against her own. His body braced against her, too far away to wrap herself around his lean torso as she wished, but near enough to breathe in his musky-warm scent. His arousal was thick and hard and heavy against her thigh, the bulbous head wet with the seed that would mark her. He rubbed against her, his groan mixing with her immediate sigh.

“Do you fucking get it, Vidal?” he asked, as his hips rocked forward again. She wanted him in the center of her, to fill the emptiness and the great ache inside. Instead he evaded and avoided, his erection leaving trails of his pre-ejaculate along her skin with each meticulously thought out jerk of his hips. There was a ruthless gleam in his darkened eyes. “Answer me, pet,” he ordered. “Do you fucking understand?”

She heard nothing but his bitter sadness. An edge of cold vengeance voiced in his low-toned growl, a delayed anticipation in the register of his chest. He held himself back, to punish her and to cruelly self-inflict. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one that served under trial. Vidal was tired of discipline. She wanted her reward, for hadn’t she already suffered? She’d been a captive, the foolish child of a debauched father, the fiancé to a man who would never love her. This man was her prize, and she wanted his claim. He waited for her response. She nodded, her tongue wetting her lower lip.

“Yes, Master. I understand.”

His eyes went brilliant. Moving over her, his larger, muscular body eclipsed her own. She felt swallowed. But she wanted more. More.

“Do you?” he said, his fingers easing down, sliding against the slick that dripped from her pussy onto his hand. His teasing fingers killed her, her climax pushing against him in frantic upheaval. He lifted his palm, then repeated the destructive dance, each time his fingers coming away with the wetness of her impending crash. Her frustration became a gasping moan in his ear when he removed his fingers just before each perfection. His breathing was harsh, ragged. Forced vexation.

“My sweet pet,” he whispered against her ear. “Do you fucking get that all of you belongs to me? I can do anything I goddamn want, and you’ll fucking take it. So you’ll take my cock like a good girl, won’t you?”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said, her fingers pulling at his hair, dragging him down to her mouth as he devoured her with a kiss, leaving her weak and wanting. Wanting so much more, unable to attain it without his permission or beneficent grant. “Yes, please…” she begged.

His mouth brushed hers. “All of it?” he said. “All of my cock, like the good girl you are?”

“Yes!” In frustration her teeth nipped against him, biting her woe against his raging pulse and tensed jawline. “Do it,” she said. “I’ll be a very good girl. I promise. You can do anything! Anything.”

He stroked his shaft, his eyes momentarily closing at her hitched-breath words. “Put your thighs around me,” he said, even as she did so. “I want to feel that pussy up against my cock when you come.”

He refused to allow what he monumentally built inside of her to reach ecstasy. She wanted that fiery conclusion, the one he promised, the one she was due. He wouldn’t allow her anything at all. Vidal let out a ragged scream, and his eyes went black. Pitch, night black at the sound. She screamed again, her fingers tangling in his hair. He mastered. He owned. He took and took, his erection taut and aggravated, the veiny shaft jerking in reflex against her skin

Vidal rubbed up against him, needily pushing her pussy against his stiffened arousal. His groan encouraged her, and she dug her fingers into his wide shoulders as his thickness ran along her seam.

“That’s it,” he said, the roughness of his growl inciting her. “Let me feel that pussy cream against my cock.”

Her eyes dared him. He couldn’t refuse to breach her now; her pussy was dripping against him, needy and ready to be filled. Was he going to make her wait again, another taste but no satiation? Damn him. Damn him, the monster, the beast and her broken man. Vidal met his blackened gaze, kissed upon the slight pull of his sliced mouth. His hushed breath was a declaration. He gripped his shaft, battling his own arousal while denying himself, the strength evident in his muscular body as he held back from taking her.

“No,” she said.

He faltered. She’d surprised him, the clarity of her refusal making his body stiffen. Soothing him, she caressed the skin along his chest with the pads of her fingertips. His heart beat so fast. Looking up, her eyes met his. Her mouth brushed along his, her tongue sweeping against the scarred seam. She would heal him. She would fix every bit of his twisted, damaged soul.

“No,” she repeated, softer. “Please, Master. I want you there, inside me. Please?”

His answer was a deep inhale, the lowering of his eyelids to half-mast, a smokiness in his darkened, lusty eyes. “You want my cock in that pussy, sweet dove?” he asked.

She nodded, letting out a small gasp as the thickened head of him nudged at the apex of her. “Yes, please.”

The swollen tip of him inched in. She stretched, the ache of needing his fullness deeply inside of her making her frantic. Her fingers dug into the skin of his back, and he stilled as he braced over her, a demon god ready to impale. Sweat beaded his forehead as he used the modulated tenseness of his hips to slowly thrust back and forth, only the head of him entering her cunt before leaving. With each withdrawal, she felt the pull of the bulbous head rub against her. His arms were so tense that he was starting to shake, his eyes ferocious.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck…” He closed his eyes, as though looking down at her were a feat he were incapable of. His eyes opened again, and he leaned down, his lips violent against hers. Their tongues were enemies. Yet he stayed gentle, so gentle, inside of her. He carefully worked himself into her, not going far enough to give him satisfaction or for her to have completeness, his face deepening to gravest black in repressed longing.

Vidal knew she’d have to be the one to give him what he needed. In spite of all he swore, there was humanity and goodness inside of him. He refused to hurt her, so she’d have to allow herself to be beaten.

Sliding her fingers down his abdomen until she reached the stiffness of his erection, she gave him a long look and then deliberately, delicately, cupped the swell of his seed-burdened sacs. Rolling them around between her fingers, gently working his heaviness, now he was the one who let out a gasp. Vidal didn’t dare taunt him long; she’d made her point. He was hers, too. Hers to touch, to tease, to make do what she wanted him to do. Gripping him with both her thighs and the arms that she wrapped about him, Vidal whispered into his ear, “Destroy me, Master. Make me yours.”

He stilled. Teeth gritting, his eyes were a flume of destruction. She’d pay for her insurrection. Yet hadn’t she won, also? He’d take from her, and in the process bestow everything she’d always craved.

His hips thrust. Her head rocked back as he fully entered her, his harshness a penalty of her boldness. It should have hurt. He should have made her cry or bleed. One cruel thrust. He pulled out, the tip shiny with their wetness. He rocked his hips forward, claiming her again just as violently. Two. Three. Four, and she let out an inhaled sob of induced pleasure.

He was relentless. His balls slapped against her, drawing up in readiness. Intensity poured from him, sweat mixing with their musky lust.

“Do you feel that?” he panted, desire for her in the focus of his gaze. “You feel how I can ease you now or make you beg?”

His hips gave authority to his words. She wouldn’t let him control the whole moment. It was hers, too. Her fingers threaded through his hair, the silky softness, her eyes gentle and her kiss sweet upon his snarled lips. Again and again she rained kisses along his face, the scarred monstrosity, the ugliness that she’d grown addicted to. His darkness had become a thing of beauty, his cruelty a façade to cover the tender lover underneath.

He was impossible. He was hers, though, at least for right now. Paavola had no right to him, no matter how intimately that woman knew him. Vidal had something to prove. She could make him feel good, too. She arched her hips up to meet his.

“Shit,” he said, as he hit to the depths of her, the deliberateness of her movement making him scowl with a pleasurable pain. “Fuck,” he said, as she did it again, in tandem with his thrust. “That feels so fucking good, little girl. You take my cock in that pussy so damned good.”

His breath hitched as she touched the burden of his face. “Vidal,” he said, his voice grating out in desperation a moment later. “I’m not going to last. Fuck, pet. I need you to come for me.”

“Yes, please,” she said, feeding into his frenzy. She had permission, yet she never wanted the exquisite pleasure to end. Her teeth pulled her lower lip in, as she whispered, “Master… I can’t.”

His roar was fierce, his growl deliberate. “Fucking come!” he commanded.

Her hips arched, so wet that when he thrust, their bodies made a sucking sound. As she curled up into him, her body taking his complete weight and size and strength against her own, he surrendered. She felt his orgasm through to the core of her, his seed hot as with each pounding of his body, each gush spurting deep inside to her womb.