Vengeance in His Bed

Jannah ignored his arrogant demand. Her mind was a chaotic, spinning vortex of biological desperation, her core throbbing so intensely that the empty ache inside her entrance felt like a physical wound. She couldn’t let this monster win. She couldn’t let him look down at her with that smug triumph while she begged for his fingers like a broken slave.

Fighting through the agonizing flares of pain in her ribs, Jannah brought her left hand down between her thighs. Her fingers were trembling, slick with her own concentrated omega moisture, and she desperately began to rub her own swollen clit in a frantic attempt to force herself over the edge and escape this torturous suspension on her own terms.

"I don’t think so, little physician," Dorrent growled, his reaction instantaneous. His hand shot forward like a striking viper, his fingers brutally wrapping around her left wrist. With a single, effortless jerk of his arm muscles, he pinned her hand flat against the tiled wall above her head, completely terminating her self-pleasure. He leaned his towering chest plates directly into her torso, his eyes flaring with a dangerous crimson light. "Let me make the rules perfectly clear to you. I am the one who controls your pleasure. If you want that aching little core to break, you are going to look me in the eyes and beg me for it."

"Let go of me! Let me go, you disgusting, perverted beast!" Jannah shrieked, her voice cracking as tears of rage and physical frustration finally spilled past her eyelashes. Her entrance was actively begging for inversion, the internal muscles violently pulsing and weeping for a penetration that wasn’t coming. The torment was too much to bear. In a desperate, wild bid to create any semblance of friction to shatter the building tension, Jannah clamped her thighs together, trying to squeeze her outer lips against each other to grind herself to a climax.

But Dorrent was completely relentless. With a cynical snarl curling his handsome lips, he wedged his knee between her legs, forcing her thighs apart and locking them wide open against the cold marble lip of the tub. He held her completely exposed, torturing her biology by withholding the very touch her evolutionary genetics were screaming for.

Jannah looked up at his arrogant, mocking face through her messy, sweat-soaked hair. Fierce madness flared behind her dark eyes as her mind anchored onto the radical emergency protocol her grandfather had beaten into her memory. She couldn’t fight his brute physical leverage, but she still owned her own consciousness.

"You think you’re so clever, Dorrent..." Jannah wheezed out, her breathing ragged and shallow as she bared her teeth in a mask of defiance. "You think you can completely control me? You are wrong."

She braced herself, preparing to roll her tongue backward to bite down on that highly specific, hyper-sensitive neuro-vascular pressure point hidden beneath the deep lateral tissue of her upper palate—the exact same method she had used to force her own brain stem to short-circuit and faint during their past encounter on the same bed.

But Dorrent was a lethal predator who never made the same mistake twice. The exact millisecond he saw the calculated, desperate shift in her jawline and remembered the phantom trauma of her body going cold and dead beneath his frame before, his silver eyes swamped with an absolute, terrifying fury.

"Not this time, gutter-rat!" Dorrent roared.

Before her teeth could even graze the lateral tissue, Dorrent slammed his hand against her jaw, forcing her mouth open as he crashed his lips down onto hers in a furious, invading, and completely unconsented kiss. He didn’t just capture her mouth; he brutally forced his tongue past her teeth, fighting within the deep cavities of her mouth to physically block her tongue from rolling backward, completely dismantling her ability to bite the pressure point.

Jannah’s eyes widened in absolute horror. She violently thrashed her torso, her left hand clawing at the iron grip on her wrist, her legs kicking uselessly against his heavy thighs as she struggled with everything she had to break free from the suffocating cage of his mouth. But Dorrent was a massive, immovable fortress. He deepened the strike with a savage, shocking intensity, his winter-frost pheromones flooding straight down her throat, choking out her logical capacity. Driven by a toxic wave of possessive pride, his massive, rigid manhood—still trapped inside his trousers—was brought forward, rubbing with a heavy, agonizingly hard friction directly against her weeping, unprotected entrance through the rough fabric of his clothes.

"Mmmph!" A muffled, agonizing whimper of physical pain was trapped in Jannah’s throat. As Dorrent lost himself in the absolute, volatile thrill of controlling her rebellion, his massive upper body weight shifted forward, heavily crushing her right side. Her fractured, bandaged ribs screamed from the sudden friction, and the plaster on her right arm was compressed brutally against the marble wall. He had completely forgotten she was a patient; he was entirely consumed by his primal need to conquer her defiance.

Jannah tried to push, tried to jolt her frame to warn him that her internal stitches were pulling, but he wasn’t budging an inch. He kept rubbing his rigid length against her slick center, his face smothering hers as he completely made her lose her breath. Left with absolutely no other weapon, Jannah clamped her teeth down onto his invading tongue, biting him with a desperate, crushing force.

"Fuck!" Dorrent barked, a sharp hiss of pain escaping his lips as he pulled his head back, tasting a drop of his own blood. He reared his torso back, his fists clenching as a dark, venomous curse slid through his teeth.

But the moment he prepared to roar at her for the strike, his eyes locked onto her face, and his voice died completely in his throat.

Jannah was no longer fighting. Her head had fallen back limply against the tiles, her chest heaving in short, shallow gasps as her left hand clutched at her bandaged ribs. Tears were rolling down her pale face in continuous, silent streams, her dark eyes completely glazed over with an unbearable wave of physical agony and total, sickening helplessness. She looked entirely broken, a fragile nineteen-year-old girl pinned naked on a bathroom floor, weeping from the weight of a trauma she couldn’t withstand.

The raging sexual furnace in Dorrent’s blood turned to stone in an instant. The unbridled moans of the woman next door still echoed through the ventilation shafts, but the sound suddenly felt incredibly distant, stripped of all its motivating heat. He stared down at her trembling frame, a strange stillness settling over his shoulders as a sudden realization hit his system.

He was thirty-five years old and she was only nineteen. A penniless, stubborn child from the slums who was currently bleeding from a bullet wound that had been meant for his own chest. The absolute asymmetry of his brutality against her fragile biology suddenly looked childish.

"I didn’t expect you to be this pathetic and weak, little physician," Dorrent murmured, his voice dropping into a low, surprisingly quiet vibration that carried a heavy undertone of frustration.

Jannah didn’t give him a single drop of a reply. She merely closed her eyes, her pale lips trembling as she turned her head away, letting her tears flow onto the porcelain floorboards, completely checked out from reality.

Dorrent let out a long, slow breath, his eyes fading back into their cold depth. He reached out with his thumb, his touch suddenly shifting away from its predatory heat as he slowly, deliberately wiped the wet tears away from her cold cheeks. "You are nothing but a childish, stubborn brat," he whispered, his tone tight yet devoid of his previous malice.

Without asking for her consent, he grabbed a soft, warm washcloth from the counter, dipping it into the warm water of the tub. He began finishing the process of washing her body, moving with a slow, careful, and clinical precision as he wiped the sweat and moisture from her pale skin, taking immense care not to disturb the bandages wrapping her fractured ribs or the plaster on her right arm.

Once her skin was completely clean, Dorrent leaned down and slid his arms beneath her limp frame once more. He lifted her up in a pristine, sweeping carry, walking out of the humid bathroom and back into the quiet bedroom, leaving the auditory filth of Shadron’s suite behind. He laid her gently onto the sheets, reaching into the wardrobe to pull out a soft, loose cotton nightgown. With a quiet, unyielding authority, he helped her dress, pulling the fabric over her shoulders and tucking her securely beneath the blankets.

He walked over to the bedside table, picking up a small white paper cup containing her scheduled recovery tablets and a glass of water. He stepped back to her side, looking down at her quiet profile.

"You need to take your medicine before you go to sleep, Jannah," Dorrent stated flatly.

Jannah kept her eyes glued to the ceiling, her voice a tiny, bitter line. "I already took it earlier when the doctor was here. I don’t need it." The truth was, she absolutely hated the bitter taste of the medicine, and she would rather endure the throbbing ache in her chest than swallow it.

Dorrent’s eyebrows furrowed, his silver eyes narrowing slightly. "Do not lie to my face, little physician. I have personally monitored you all day, and I haven’t seen you take a single medicine today."

"I told you, I am perfectly okay," Jannah snapped weakly, turning her face toward the wall. "Just leave me alone."

Dorrent let out a low chuckle that carried a chilling, possessive finality. He set the water glass down, his shadow looming over the mattress as he leaned his upper body down until his face was mere inches from her ear.

"Let me make reality perfectly clear to you, brat," Dorrent whispered, his voice dropping into a gravelly rasp that sent an immediate chill down her spine. "You need to get better soon, so your body can get right back to satisfying my dick. I am not going to let your stubbornness delay my pleasure. You are going to have this tablet tonight whether you like it or not."

Jannah’s eyes snapped open in alarm as she saw him pick up the large, bitter tablet. But instead of handing it to her, Dorrent placed the pill into his own mouth, his teeth audibly chewing the medication into a fine paste. He leaned his chest over her frame, his long fingers gripping her chin to lock her face in place as his silver eyes flared with a wicked, absolute command.

"Open your mouth right now, Jannah..."