5. Matilda
5
MATILDA
A thrill of excitement and terror runs through me. Maybe I’ve pushed too far, but I can’t bring myself to regret it. For once in my life, I’m making my own choices, taking control, and that spark that is simmering between us is hard to ignore. Maybe this is the biggest mistake I will ever make, but maybe it won’t be. It’s been three years since I lost my virginity, and in that time, I haven’t had sex again. I haven’t met anyone to have sex with. I’ve masturbated until I’ve cried with frustration, but even that wasn’t enough to make me give in to Stryker.
Draven isn’t Stryker.
Fuck, he is on another fucking level and way out of my league.
Maybe that’s why I want this. To see if he will rise to the bait, lower his standards to be with a common, weak witch like me.
“Show me,” I challenge, meeting his intense gaze.
In a blur of movement, Draven is out of his seat and pulling me across the centre console onto his lap. I straddle him as his lips crash into mine, hungry and demanding. I moan into his mouth, finally getting what I’ve been craving.
His hands roam over my exposed skin, leaving trails of ice in their wake. I arch into his touch, desperate for more. He pinches my nipples, twisting them until I cry out, and my pussy drenches my knickers. I grind down on his rock-hard cock, and he lets go of me to fumble between us.
“Is this what you want?” he practically snarls at me as my back presses into the steering wheel.
“Yes,” I gasp when he shoves my knickers to the side and thrusts two fingers deep inside me. “Please, Draven.”
He growls, the sound sending goosebumps all over my skin. In one swift motion, he reclines his seat all the way back and grips his impressive cock in his fist as we move backwards.
“Last chance to back out,” he warns, his voice rough with desire.
“I’m not backing out.”
Something dark and primal flashes in his eyes. “Then you’re mine.”
He lifts me and then impales me on his cock.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan as he stretches me in ways I’ve only ever dreamt of.
He growls again; this time, it’s more feral, like a wild animal mid-rut.
“Draven,” I pant as my pussy twitches, ready for a release already.
He smirks and lifts me, withdrawing until only his head is inside me before slamming me back down again, hard and fast, using me like a fucking sex doll. Or a filthy whore.
A scream escapes my lips as a wave of pleasure I’ve never experienced before crashes over me. “Oh, gods, Draven!”
“That’s it, scream for me,” he hisses as the car bounces under the force of our fucking. He drives into me with a ferocity I didn’t know existed. “Soak my cock with your cunt, petal. I want it dripping.”
I can’t form coherent thoughts as his crude words hit something dark and thrilling inside my soul and makes me whimper. Each thrust is harder than the last. My climax builds, just out of reach, until suddenly, there is an explosion of white-hot light behind my eyelids. “Fuck!”
“That’s my girl,” he grunts, his grip on my hips painful as he keeps me in place while he slams into me again and again until, with a roar, he comes deep inside me, his cock pulsing as he unloads his balls into my pussy. “Mine. All fucking mine.”
I shiver at his possessive words, but I don’t hate them. I know that I did the right thing here, but if he rejects me now and blows me off when we get to MistHallow, I will be devastated. I want him. I want him more than I’ve wanted anything. More than the freedom from my family. His cock inside me feels right, perfect. We were made for each other.
Fucking fated.
But will he feel the same way in a few seconds when we come down from this?
As if sensing my sudden anxiety, Draven’s bruising grip on me loosens. He looks up at me, his intense blue eyes searching mine, and he grips my chin lightly. “Are you all right?” he asks softly.
I nod, not trusting my voice. I move to climb off him, but he holds me in place.
“Wait,” he says, and I freeze at the seriousness of his tone. “You won’t get pregnant, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
I gulp. I hadn’t even considered it in my haste to get his cock inside me. Fuck. What must he think of me? “Okay,” I stammer with a weak smile.
His eyes narrow as he stares at me, but he doesn’t say anything. A guard that wasn’t there before has shot up, and I need to get away from him before he hurts me. I rise up, and his cock slides out of me, still semi-hard and covered in cum.
“Wet enough for you?” I ask lightly.
He frowns, but then chuckles. He helps me back into the passenger seat, but he doesn’t let me go. His grip tightens. “Clean me up,” he murmurs, pushing my head down to his lap.
Nerves hit my stomach as his attitude has changed from thrilling possessive to almost hostile.
I hesitate, suddenly uncertain. The mood has shifted and I’m not sure how to read Draven now. His grip on my hair tightens, urging me down.
“I said clean me up,” he repeats, his voice low and commanding.
Swallowing my nerves, I lower my head and tentatively lick his cock, tasting our combined cum. He groans softly as I take him into my mouth, sucking gently to clean him off.
“That’s it, Tilly. Such a good girl,” he murmurs, shortening my name and making it sound like heaven rolling off his tongue in that accent. His fingers relax in my hair, loosening his harsh grip.
My unease abates slightly at his praise, focusing on my task. When I’ve licked him clean, I go to pull away, but he holds me in place.
“Keep going,” he says. “I want to feel that pretty mouth around me a bit longer.”
So I continue, sucking and licking his hard length. His breathing grows heavier as I work him with my tongue, grazing my teeth down him until he grunts and shoots his load into my mouth.
I’m used to the sensation, so I remove my mouth and swallow like a good girl, enjoying the taste of him instead of being repulsed.
I look at him, uncertain. His eyes are dark with desire again, but there’s something else there, too, that eases the fear I have of rejection. It’s a possessiveness that goes past mere words and into something that I should run a mile from, but instead, I lean into it.
“You’re mine now, Matilda,” he says softly. “Do you understand what that means?”
I shake my head slightly.
He cups my face in his hands. “It means I protect what’s mine. It means no one else touches you. It means you belong to me, body and soul.”
An icy river runs through me at his words. Part of me wants to rebel against the possessiveness, to assert my independence. But a larger part craves the safety and belonging he’s offering.
“What if I don’t want to belong to anyone?” I challenge, even as my body betrays me by leaning into his touch.
He smirks. “Too late for that, petal. You gave yourself to me the moment you climbed into my lap.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he silences me with a searing kiss. When he pulls back, my head is spinning.
“You can fight it all you want,” he murmurs against my lips. “But we both know the truth. You’re mine now, Matilda, and I take very good care of what’s mine.”
His words should frighten me. They should make me want to run far away. Instead, they ignite a warmth in my chest I’ve never felt before. For the first time in my life, I feel... safe. Protected. Wanted.
… in the presence of an apex predator who is the Prince of Hell.
Way to go, Tilly. I mentally roll my eyes at myself, but I still can’t regret this.
“Okay,” I whisper when his grip tightens, needing something from me.
Draven’s eyes flash with triumph. “Say it,” he commands softly.
I swallow hard, my heart racing. “I’m yours.”
He rewards me with another deep kiss, his hands cupping my breasts gently before he sharply pinches my nipples, and I squeak into his mouth. He releases me and hands me my top. I take it, and he rights his seat. “You know, I thought MistHallow was going to be seriously boring, but you have made this quest more bearable.”
“Quest?” I ask with a frown as I slip my bra back on and pull my top over my head, settling back down as he sets off again.
“Mm,” he murmurs but doesn’t elaborate, so I don’t press him.
“Well, glad to help, but that is only if they accept me.”
He turns his head sharply to glare at me before he shifts his eyes back to the road. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I’m going there in the hopes they will take me in. My sister said they would offer me sanctuary.”
“I see,” he says. “Well, if they don’t, I will see to it that they change their minds. This is something I have to do, and I’m not suffering this next year without you by my side.”
I don’t reply to that. He makes it sound like this is it, a done deal. But who knows what will happen in the next few hours?
When he settles down to drive, the car eating up the miles, he places his hand on my thigh. It’s an overprotective grip, like he doesn’t want to let me go in case I disappear. It intrigues me, and I can’t help but wonder what the fuck I’ve got myself into.