Chapter Thirty-Four • Prey • Lillith #2
I press my tongue tighter against the bottom of his cock.
His hips jerk, and he thrusts into me, gagging me on his erection.
His other hand joins the one in my hair as he pulls me off of him.
His cock hangs heavy a few inches from my face as he lets me catch my breath for a few seconds. Then he pulls me onto his length again.
“You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted me to defile this pretty little mouth of yours,” he says. “Hearing you make such sweet little sounds with the same voice you bewitch me with every time you fucking sing. I feel like I’m on top of the world. Mnh, yeah, take me in your throat, just like that.”
The praise. It’s the best thing. It makes my whole body tingle while he invades my throat again.
I close my eyes and open myself up to him, softening the muscles of my neck and relishing the way the hardness brushes against my windpipe.
I do everything I can not to disrupt the cadence—not to gag or need a break.
Tears bead at the corners of my eyes, then spill onto my cheeks.
I look into his eyes just as he retreats and his eyes go hazy and hooded as he catches a tear on his gloved thumb. “I fucking love it when I make you cry,” he says, the reverence in his voice paradoxical to the way he’s wrecking me.
I’m just a mouth for him to use and nothing makes me happier than to watch him grit his sharp teeth with the effort not to come.
He catches a rhythm, slow and deep, pulling out enough each time to let me take in a deep breath. It starts to feel like meditation. Like surrender.
“Touch yourself,” he commands. And I obey, slipping trembling fingers into my tights until I find my swollen clit. I gather my slick arousal on my fingertips and brush over myself at the very same pace he uses with my mouth.
I start to moan and whimper every time he gives me a second to breathe.
“Good girl,” she groans as he bottoms out inside of my throat and grinds his hips into my face. “Now, come for me. When you show me how well you come with those pretty fingers in your panties, I’ll let you swallow my spend.”
I’ve never wanted something more than that, so I get to work, grinding my own clit against my hand and groaning around him as he fucks my mouth.
It only takes a few seconds, a few choice circles of my fingers before I’m whimpering and quivering at his feet.
Just as I start to cry out with my release, he whimpers and pulls me against him so hard that my nose presses into the stubble at the base of his cock.
My eyes roll as he spills his spend into my esophagus, my chest spreading with warmth like I’ve just had a sip of hot tea.
He pants as he pulls his cock free. His cum glistens like dewy spider’s silk between my lower lip and the crown of his cock. I press a soft kiss to the slit at the head and Damien laughs as he drops his head back to look up at the starry night sky.
“You are so fucking cute,” he sighs.
He softens a bit after catching his breath, his half-hard cock sitting heavily between his legs.
“You’re in quite the predicament here, aren’t you?” he asks.
I look lazily to the bramble, finding just how tangled I am in the thorns. I frown.
“Maybe if you ask very nicely, I’ll help free you of your trap, what do you think?”
I look up at him. “Please help me?” I ask, plaintive and small.
His hand is so soft when he grasps my chin, clicking his tongue like he’s indulging a pet. “How can I say no to that?”
But his next movements are brutal and sharp. I gasp as he grips the neckline of my dress and, with no warning, tears the bodice nearly in half.
“D-Damien!” I cry out.
He rips again, the fabric tearing to where it splits open over my thigh. “You said you wanted help.” He grapples my body out of the ruined garment until I’m in front of him on all fours in nothing but my tights and panties.
“I loved that dress,” I whimper.
He kneels and picks me up over his shoulder. “I’ll buy you a better one,” he says.
“W-wait,” I gasp as he walks with me across the clearing.
“You seem to misunderstand the role you’re playing tonight, Little Bird,” He says as he slides me down into his arms in a bridal carry. “Your role is not calling the shots. That’s my role tonight.”
His nose almost brushes mine as he lowers me onto the ground. “You told me no limits.”
“But—”
He slides between my legs and digs his fingers into my fishnets. Without warning, he tears them in half too.
“D—” I can’t get his name out of my mouth before he clasps his hand over my mouth, silencing me.
“If you want me to stop, wrap your hands around this arm and squeeze three times. Show me.”
I blink and lift my hands to his forearm.
“Good. Three good squeezes,” he says.
I do.
“Now drop them. Don’t touch that arm unless you’re asking me to stop.”
Then, with no warning, he plucks the thin fabric of my thong aside and slips two gloved fingers inside of me.
I gasp biting the inside of my lip as he fucks me with his fingers.
There’s something insane and vivid about the feeling of his fingers inside of me while covered in leather. A mind-melting distance that makes me feel like his plaything. His.
I want to touch him. But I need to remember the rules.
I lift my hands up to cup his face and his hooded eyes meet mine as his muscular arm continues to pump his fingers in and out at a slow, purposeful rhythm.
His pupils have blown so wide that his irises are only slim rings around them.
Abalone shells nested around blackest obsidian. A protective stone. My protector.
I come around his fingers like a thunderclap and by then he’s hard again, using his knees to open me wider and slipping his thick cock inside me. The slickness of my come lets him in too easily and I wince, yelping into his hand as the crown of his cock presses into my cervix.
“Hush,” he says as he begins a maddening, grinding rhythm. Every thrust has him dragging on every surface inside of me. The friction around my opening, the ridge of his cock against the caverns and ridges inside of me, the sharp press when he bottoms out.
I’m gonna come, I want to tell him.
For a moment, I think he knows I want to speak. His fingers slide, hooking behind my teeth again. But, no: he’s going to come too.
“Fuck, Lillith,” he whimpers, his voice soft and reedy. “You feel so fucking good.”
His hand leaves my mouth, and he shifts pulling me by my thighs so that he can fuck me even deeper, somehow.
“Damien,” I whimper. “Oh, fuck, Damien.”
“I know,” he says, meeting my eyes. That forbidding, dark part of him has given way to something else. Something tender.
“Come with me? Please,” I beg.
He can only manage a nod, his jaw hanging loose and his eyes closing.
It’s just three more thrusts before I’m curling my toes and bowing my back.
He fucks me faster, harder, for just a few more seconds as I cry out into the empty night air.
Then he comes, his release spilling impossibly out past the seal of his cock, down the curve of my ass and the backs of my legs.
He pants and bows over me, his forehead damp with sweat as he presses it to mine.
“Holy fucking shit,” he says.
I can’t speak yet, but I nod in agreement.
He kisses me, slow and gentle and kind. He peels his gloves off without breaking the kiss and his skin feels so sweet as he gently coaxes my ruined tights off of my legs. When he breaks the kiss, I touch my hand to his eye and he huffs a soft laugh as the bruise there heals under my magic
“Thanks, that would have been embarrassing to explain to the guys,” he teases.
“You would have loved explaining that to the guys,” I say.
“You’re right,” he says, grinning widely and nuzzling his nose against mine. “Maybe I’ll just have you deck me in the face so I can tell them I got to chase you through a forest and fuck you like a beast.”
“You can do that without a black eye, Damien,” I remind him, brushing some hair away from his eyes.
“Where’s the fun in that?” he asks.
He gets his pants back on and reaches behind him, producing... oh.
“Is that a shirt?” I ask.
“Yep, I had it tucked in my belt,” he says. “I... kind thought I might accidentally tear off all your clothes.”
“Accidentally?” I ask. “Sir, that seems pretty premeditated to me.”
“Whattt? No way. This is at most dress-slaughter. You definitely can’t get me for dress-murder in the first degree. A jury would never buy that. I mean, you did half the work before I even got to it with those thorns.”
He tugs me onto his lap and pulls the shirt over my head.
It’s large enough that it’s practically a dress on me, falling all the way past my hips when he tugs it down.
It’s nice to have something on my body again, but it doesn’t exactly guard me from a sudden chill. It’s after dark, and it’s fucking cold.
“Sorry,” he says with a frown. “Good thing I brought blankets, right? Let’s get back to the car.”
“Ah, yes, the blankets for stargazing,” I say, pinching his nose shut between my thumb and index finger.
“Well,” he says, his voice cartoonish. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure you had ample opportunity to look at some stars while I fucked you into the dirt.”
“I was a little distracted,” I say.
“Oh? By what?”
I laugh, releasing his nose as he stands and lifts me up into his arms with an ease that is never not impressive.
His expression falls into something soft when he looks down at me and starts walking us back to the car.
Something about it makes me feel self-conscious, like he’s cataloguing everything on my face—the mess my hair must be—a smudge of dirt on my face, my wrecked lipstick and running mascara.
“I can walk, you know,” I say.
“Fuck no. Are you insane? On bare feet?”
“I’ve had basically bare feet since you told me to get my head start,” I point out.
“What you did with your ten minutes is none of my business,” he says. “This isn’t hard for me. I love carrying you. And I love taking care of you after you let me do dirty, nasty stuff to you.”