Anne
He was in a league of his own. No one turned me down. No one could control themselves after I spiked them—they became desperate animals, dying to stick their cocks inside me. And here was Ethan Hammond, calmly stripping despite having been hard for the last forty minutes.
The zip ties were clever. They left me open for him to do his worst.
His shirt landed over his bag as he moved to the black leather belt. Those beautiful long fingers, capable of restructuring and destroying. My pussy clenched at the memory of his work on Eva—the precise cuts, her jaw cracking open, the stitched cheeks he’d torn open again after.
Sick, nasty bastard.
I loved it.
His muscles flexed as he shed his trousers and tossed them aside. His thumbs hooked beneath his waistband before he dragged his boxers down, releasing his cock—heavy, angry, darker than before. All that blood pooling there for my benefit.
I had zero regrets.
He climbed onto the bed and untied the front of my cropped top, baring my breasts. His eyes lingered before his hand moved lower, one finger tracing my pussy through soaked silk and lace.
“So wet and I’ve not even touched you?” he murmured, slipping his finger around the edge of my underwear.
I held my breath as he pulled the material back, stretching it before letting it snap. Did he think a little edging would make me crack?
The mattress shifted as he placed his hands beside my head and towered above me, his knees brushing my thighs.
“This is called the wide open position,” he murmured. “One of my favourites.”
Then I felt the weight of his cock settle between my thighs, and I closed my eyes. The heat of him made me try to raise my hips, but it didn’t help. Warm lips traced a path from my cheek to my neck to my chest, unhurried, his every breath ghosting over my skin.
That’s when I realised this was his sadistic method of torture. I opened my eyes to find him watching me. He smiled wolfishly, then dragged his tongue over my breast, pressing down on my nipple before backtracking to tease it with just the tip.
“You son of a—”
His mouth clamped down and sucked so hard the pleasure robbed me of my ability to speak. His fingers curled around my breast as he licked and sucked me deep into his mouth before moving to my other nipple, leaving my wet nipple to harden from the loss of his heated mouth.
“Ethan,” I gasped, but he was too engrossed in torturing my nipple with his hot, wet tongue.
I released my ankles, but the zip ties kept my legs raised.
His mouth closed and sucked—hard and deep, enough to give me a moment’s relief before he let go with a wet smack.
“Mm, delicious,” he murmured, his head moving lower.
He gripped my underwear, lace digging into my hips before the fabric tore. Cool air hit my wet pussy, doing nothing to soothe the throb inside me.
I settled and waited for his touch.
Instead, his lips found my inner thighs.
Soft kisses pressed against the ugly criss-cross scars. His hands held my legs still when I tried to twist away from his mouth. Some lines were light, uniform. Others darker, longer—the ones where I’d pushed the blade in deep enough to feel my own pain instead of theirs.
Tears came one after another, rolling faster than I could track. His grip loosened, the kisses turning featherlight. His hands began to move, rubbing my muscles as he kept kissing me.
He didn’t stop until he’d covered every single one.
I didn’t feel broken because the dam had opened.
No—I felt seen.
No matter how many times I’d stuck a blade into a man, none of them ever knew why they’d met their end. Ethan knew without being told.
The tears stopped, numbness filling my hollow core as I struggled for composure. Then I felt his tongue against my pussy.
Once. Twice.
He sucked one side of my labia, then the other.
His fingers held me open.
His tongue moved up and down, fast, dragging me back to myself, reminding me that wasn’t who I was anymore.
I shuddered when his tongue brushed my clit. He circled back, swirling around it before his mouth covered it entirely. I felt myself leak down his lips and chin. He growled, and I gasped at the vibration.
His tongue slid lower and pushed inside me, licking up every drop of my arousal. His hands slid beneath my arse, raising me to meet him as his tongue stabbed in and out. Just when the tension coiled tight, he pulled back.
My eyes flew open.
His chest heaved. Eyes bright. Mouth drenched.
“Not yet,” he murmured, dropping down to kiss my knee.
I was going to take his knife and stab it into his jugular tonight.
Some of my anger faded when he reached for the anal plug and lube.
But I knew one thing for sure.
I would never drug him again.