Chapter 15 Aurora
AURORA
Convincing myself that this thing I have with Everett is purely physical, that’s impossible. Our relationship is so much more than that.
Needing him, the man, is the ache in my bones. The pressure in my temples.
My shivering body calls out to him.
I’m yearning for him, all of him. His demeaning and obscene orders. His cock that’s so hard in his jeans. The feral gazes he pins me with.
I’ll die if he, and only he, won’t make me come.
Can’t he tell that I need him?
I thought he did. I thought he cared, in his own twisted way. Maybe I was imagining it, but I felt it all the same.
He touched me. He fed me.
And now he’s frozen, letting me marinate in that “Good fucking girl” he said minutes ago.
“Please, Everett.”
His silence brings tears to my eyes. They roll down my cheeks the longer he makes me wait.
I’m at my lowest ever. Nothing more than a stray at his feet. An animal that was shown what their warm, loving owner could be like, only to be kicked to the curb.
I stare into his eyes, wishing he’d say something.
Anything.
Good girl, he called me. Wife.
I’m aching for more of his attention, more of his words.
His vile fingers and cock on and in me.
He’s turned me into a woman I don’t recognize.
He sees right through my loneliness and desperation for any kind of attention. He sees it, and he uses it against me.
I don’t care.
“Please,” I beg again.
“Here.” He offers me a clean spoon. The veins on his forearm bulge. His tattoos are just as enticing, sending a thrill up my spine. “Take this.”
“You’re not going to feed me anymore?” The crack in my voice is pathetic. Somehow, that idea hurts worse than the thought of him leaving me unsatisfied.
I clear my throat. Swallow the shame. Look up at him and beg him to feed me with my eyes.
I’m done fighting it. For once in my miserable life, something I want is just within reach.
I won’t back down. Not this time. Not even from him.
“No, Aurora. I’m not going to feed you. Now.”
I shake in the sting, inhaling through my nose.
“You know what, I don’t give a fuck about food.” My eyes cut from the spoon to his harsh glare. “I wasn’t that hungry anyway. You said you’d make me come. Do it.”
“Brat.” The pressure on my hair is gone, replaced by this agonizing grip on my chin. “Apologize.”
My eyebrows shoot down. He’s still withholding pleasure from me. He’s being cruel.
He could do worse.
Everett could deny me an orgasm. He could keep repeating this nightmare for an eternity. He has the power to do that. He has all the power.
I have to change my strategy. Have to claim some of the power for myself. If he respects me, he might let me have what I need.
“You’re the one who should be apologizing to me.”
“Apologize.” The second time he says it hits different. He’s less angry. More desperate.
For me.
“Apologize for what? Hmm?”
The air crackles with tension as seconds stretch between us.
The longer he holds me in his punishing grip, the hotter I get.
My thighs are embarrassingly wet. My breasts are heavy. Skin tingly.
“For what?” I breathe out.
“For being a brat,” he quips.
Before I know it, the spoon is shoved into my hand. My free one remains firm on his knee, supporting my weight.
His wrathful glare wakes the butterflies in my stomach. Helplessness clogs my throat.
I’m losing my mind.
“What are you waiting for?” It’s infuriating, how his T-shirt stretches over taut muscles. How it highlights his sculpted abs as he leans back, arms crossed over his chest. “You wanted to get off. So do it. Get. Off.”
Sure, I was a virgin yesterday, but even I know this isn’t how sex works.
“The spoon. I’m going to put it down.” Heat floods my cheeks. I hate that he’s pulling things out of me I’ve never admitted to anyone. That he isn’t just ramming into me and getting it over with. “Then I’ll… I’ll climb on top of you.”
His impatient glower cuts me to the core. Grabbing the remote off the table, he zaps me once.
A moan tears from me. A sob follows close behind.
My head hangs low, there, between his thighs. If not for my hand on his knee, I would’ve collapsed to the floor.
“Hmm.” This hmm doesn’t sound pensive. This hmm is ominous.
A smart girl would’ve heeded it. She would’ve kept her head down, waited for his wrath to simmer.
But the knots in my belly turn me into a stupid, reckless woman.
I lift my gaze, meeting his dark one head-on.
In my periphery, I catch him rolling down his fly with one large, skillful hand. My cheeks heat as my gaze lowers. Everett is confident and painfully hot, cupping his hard cock over his black boxers.
Keeping himself covered feels less intimate than it does like a warning.
“Thank you for this.” His voice steals my attention away from the alluring sight.
“For what?”
“For this idea you’ve given me.” He shrugs. “You get off, I get off.”
“You’re too far for that,” I groan. “For us to have sex.”
“I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” The corner of his lips quirks up. A smirk has never looked this diabolical on anyone. This sensual. “Since you haven’t figured it out by now, here’s how it’s going to go. You’re going to fuck yourself with the spoon.”
“What?” He can’t be serious. I can’t be considering this either.
“While your mouth will be busy sucking my cock.”
“No. Not like this.” On impulse, I push myself off him.
His hand laces in my hair, keeping me right where I am.
Right where he wants me. “I wasn’t asking, wife.”
As I tremble in front of him, tears spring from my eyes. My shame pushes them out faster than before. Rivers of it.
Sucking him, really sucking, instead of just having him in my mouth.
It’s a turn-on.
The spoon in my pussy though. That’s—I can’t be into it. That’s vile. Unhinged.
This isn’t normal.
The fact that my thighs squeeze is equally insane.
“No.” I bare my teeth at him.
“No, what?” he challenges.
“You can’t force me.”
A cold expression settles over his face.
The fire. The hate. The lust.
Gone.
He’s closed himself off to me.
“Try me.”
I whimper. I did try him. He did end up forcing me. More than once.
And I didn’t hate it. I don’t hate it now. His threats. The power play. The attention and release he promises overpower the shame.
I’m taking it. If only to be able to think straight later.
If only to see how this feels.
Slowly, I lower the spoon to the hot space between my thighs. Everett is a predator, tracking my movements. His jaw is the sharpest it’s ever been.
His watchful gaze is settled on me while he takes his cock out of his boxers. This whole scene is intense. It’s too much.
Everett doesn’t care that I’m so overwhelmed I can hardly breathe. He grabs the base, then he runs his hand over his big, throbbing length.
“Come here.” He cups the back of my neck, a possessive grip he uses to draw me closer to him.
My mouth hovers over the tip of his cock. My body stills, fear lacing around my lungs. I don’t think I’m breathing.
“Be good for me.” There’s longing in his voice. He blinks, catching himself. He’s trying so hard to hate me. “Don’t make me punish you more than I have to.”
“You like punishing me.” Resisting him is a challenge, given how he grips me. “You sick fuck.”
“Put the spoon in your pussy.” At his deadly whisper, my mouth snaps shut. Insides shudder. Clit throbs. “And fucking suck me.”
The request isn’t really a request. Not when he impales my mouth on his cock, lifting his hips to shove himself down my throat.
He’s too thick. Too overwhelming. Too deep.
I gag, fighting for my next breath. Fighting to understand why being demeaned by him lights up every last one of my nerve endings.
Whatever the answer is, it won’t change the fact that I’m starved for him.
Obsessed with him. With the satisfied sounds he makes.
My stomach flutters.
My throat works to accommodate him.
The first taste of his arousal has my eyes rolling back. A hum of pleasure mixes with my coughs.
“There you go.” He’s getting impatient. His throat bobs, his thigh clenches beneath my hand. But he isn’t punishing me. There’s no hiding the pleasure that rolls off him. “Such a good girl for me. My brat of a wife on her fucking knees. Taking my cock like that. Jesus.”
I hate him. I need him.
I want to obey him.
Everett’s brainwashed me. He’s into this—putting the end of the spoon inside my soaking pussy.
“Good girl.”
He’s conditioning me to listen to him.
“Work that hand faster.”
He’s demanding that I submit.
I do.
I’m trembling and gasping; the silver spoon is cold in my hot pussy. So good though. It’s so awful and so good.
Clenching around the spoon, I drag it in and out of me like Everett has ordered me to.
It’s driving me insane, rubbing the handle along my walls. Everything’s ten times worse or better or hotter when I find that spot. That secret, dirty place where Everett stroked me yesterday.
“That’s it. I see you. You want it so bad, don’t you?” His hips grind into my mouth in a rhythm that shouldn’t be right.
I shouldn’t get so close to an orgasm. I shouldn’t mimic his pace with the spoon.
Desire shoves my shame down where I can’t feel it. I can only feel him.
“Fuck. Fuck, Aurora.” His grip on my hair is more demanding, more possessive. “Make that pretty cunt come. Need this. Need you screaming on my cock.”
Refusing him is impossible. My body has been pushed to its limit. I’m standing at the peak of a mountain, Everett behind me. His capable hands are on my back.
His cock in my mouth and his filthy words throw me off the metaphorical cliff.
I cry in shame. I cry from how exquisite it is.
I cry because this vicious man isn’t wrong.
He sees me. He knows how to hurt me.
“Good girl.” Hot cum spurts into my mouth. Down my throat. “So good.”
There’s so much of it, and I’m taking it all for myself. I’ve earned it, to own a piece of this monster.
“That’s it. Swallow. Yes.” His eyes are as dark as his tone. “That’s a good slut. My good slut. God, I hate you.”
He repeats my name as my tears wet his thighs. As I moan on his cock. I can’t stop. I can’t as one aftershock after another threatens to drive me into oblivion.
“Let go.” He holds my head down, his thumb stroking my nape. “Let go. It’s okay. I’m here.”
At first, I’m confused. Let go of what? I already came.
Then it hits me.
Black dots dance at the edge of my vision. The lightness. The loss of control over my limbs.
“It’s okay.” He pulls out of my mouth.
His arms wrap around me. Strong and capable, raising me to his lap as if I weigh nothing.
My fingers are powerless, releasing the hold on the spoon.
It clatters as it falls on the floor.
“Everett.”
“Let go,” he demands, nestling me closer to him. “I’ve got you.”
I do, but not before this one thought flashes in my head.
A neon sign.
The monster has me.
And while I might be able to let go, he won’t.
Not ever.