Chapter 8
Everly
My legs shook as his tongue swirled around. He was prying me open, stretching me out, and testing my resistance. Every flick of his tongue unraveled me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to close my legs—or let him tear me wide open.
Each breath was a fight. My lungs begged for air, but every time he buried his face between my thighs, the pressure built again—tight, unbearable. He wasn’t just touching me. He was taking the breath from my body.
Silas Voss was worth the wait. The man knew exactly what to do with a woman. While he was between my thighs feasting, my mother was in some hotel room thinking she was cheating on her husband.
She hated me, but she’d hate my child even more.
“Silas,” I whispered—half plea, half disbelief.
His grip tightened on my thighs as he pulled back. His mouth and chin were slick with me, shining under the low light.
“Yes?” he purred, straightening.
My eyes dropped—and somehow, he looked even bigger. The tip flushed a furious red, bold against the thick, veined length that stood proud from the neatly trimmed hair at his base. His balls hung low, full and heavy.
It was madness.
But I wanted it—all of it.
I released my legs and trailed my hands to my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them together until his lips parted. Pure satisfaction coursed through me when a single clear droplet leaked out from him and slowly dripped down the head.
I rubbed my nipples, hissing as the sensation made my insides clench.
He shook his head, dazed, but he couldn't tear his eyes from me.
“So desperate to be my little toy,” he growled. “Let me give you what you’re aching for. Stretch you open. Fill you to the fucking brim. Teach you what it means to belong to a man like me.”
My legs trembled at the sound of his voice—low, rough, dangerous. I should’ve been scared. Instead, I burned for him.
He moved in closer, and I held my breath. This was it. This was the moment.
Instead, he dragged the thick length of himself along my slit—slow, taunting strokes that left me trembling. Every brush made me twitch. Made me ache.
“Please, Silas,” I choked out, voice hoarse, broken. “Please…”
He stilled. The teasing stopped. I sighed in relief.
Then he exhaled hard, like he was the one in pain. His hand wrapped around himself, and he angled his cock to my entrance.
“You poor, desperate thing,” he rasped. “Crying for me already?”
I nodded frantically, every inch of me trembling. For him.
His voice dropped, so low it barely made it past his teeth.
“I’ll give you what you need. But you remember this—once I’m inside, you’re mine.”
And then he pushed. It was slow and heavy.
Stretching me open until my cry broke the silence.
He didn’t stop.
Didn’t flinch.
He filled me like he’d meant to from the very beginning.
“Shh,” he murmured, lips at my ear. “You’re doing so well. Taking me, just like a good little toy.”
I gripped the sheets as he nudged at the barrier, gasping as the pressure built.
“Shh. Take it,” he said with a grimace.
He fell over me, staring into my eyes.
“Breathe,” he said, just before he thrust into me, tearing through my hymen.
I clawed at the sheets, crying out as the sharp pinch of pain brought tears to my eyes. He lowered himself over me, his lips trailing along my jawline while I tried to steady my breath.
He didn’t move. He waited—letting me adjust to the stretch, to the weight, to him.
Then his mouth found mine, and I tasted myself on his lips—salty, sweet, his. The scent of me clung to him too, tangled with the sharp spice of his aftershave.
His kiss was gentle. Probing. Perfect.
And slowly, I began to relax.
I felt the blood drip out of me. He felt it too because his eyes met mine and he broke the kiss.
“You feel that blood?” he growled.
I nodded, breath catching.
“That means you’re mine. And if you ever cheat like your mother did, I won’t divorce you. I’ll keep you—and destroy you slowly.”
I nodded again, not about to remind him we weren’t married.
Instead, I placed my hands on his shoulders and rolled my hips.
“Good little toy,” he hissed, pressing forward—rewarding me.
He continued to move back and forth, inch by inch, consuming me.
“There we go. Let me fuck you wide open,” he said, burying his face in my hair.
I clung to his back, adjusting to the stretch, willing myself to breathe.
The pain dulled.
The tension shifted.
I exhaled slowly as the pressure began to build again.
My hands slid down his back, needing to touch, to anchor.
He groaned in my ear.
“Yes, this is all mine. Tight, fertile pussy. Mine to breed. Mine to use,” he rasped, thrusting harder, deeper.
I gripped his ass, lifting my hips in offering, giving him everything.
“Yeah, that's it, give me my tight little pussy,” he growled.
His skin was hot against mine, his chest firm and unrelenting as it pinned me down. I felt his breath on my cheek, the slow grind of his body against mine—chest to chest, stomach to stomach, pelvis to pelvis. Every inch of him demanded I feel him.
And I did. I felt nothing but him all around me.
“Silas,” I breathed his name like a prayer.
He lifted himself on his arms, glancing between us before he ground himself so deep that I cried in pleasure, arching my back. Nothing had felt so good.
“Now to train this perfect little hole,” he muttered like a vow.
He pulled back and thrust hard, slapping against me. I barely caught my breath when he did it again and again. Each thrust stole more of my breath. More of my mind. I clung to him, fingers digging in, crying out his name like it was the only word I knew.
The tight coil inside me snapped, flooding through every nerve like a dam giving way. My head tipped back, eyes rolling as the rush overtook me. He plunged back inside me. I clenched around him, uncontrollably, dragging him with me until he groaned my name like it tore out of him.
Somewhere among the ecstasy, I felt his hot seed. The one he’d promised me. I wrapped my legs around him and held him close, refusing to let him pull away, not when he was still emptying himself inside of me. My breath shook. My body trembled.
And when I finally opened my eyes, I stared over his shoulder… at the bedroom where my mother once told me she wished I’d never been born.