THIRTY-EIGHT #3
‘Do you like the taste of me, little angel?’
I gave a slow nod.
His fingers tangled deeper in my hair, a firm tug as he pulled me up to my feet. ‘Say it.’ Steel and sin dripping from his tone. ‘Do you like it when I fill your mouth?’
‘I love it.’ The words slipped from me without hesitation.
His smirk deepened. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Fuck, you’re so beautiful,’ he whispered, exhaling against my neck just before he kissed it.
With a slow pull into his arms, he let his mouth trail along my neck as if he was already planning his next indulgence.
‘Let’s fill you up some more.’
Recklessly, he pushed me onto the bed, his body following a heartbeat later. Before I could catch my breath, he was on me – spreading me open, claiming, devouring.
His mouth latched onto my clit, his tongue a slow, torturous flick before his teeth scraped, a sharp contrast of pleasure and pain that sent a violent tremor through me. My body bent and twisted beneath him, helpless against the onslaught. I let out a sound, too loud.
His hand covered my mouth, holding tight as he fed from me.
Every hum, every groan that vibrated against my soft flesh unravelled something inside, pulling me to the edge faster than I could catch up.
‘Please…’ The plea slipped past my lips breathlessly.
He hummed against me with approval. But I wasn’t sure if I was begging him to stop – or to push me further into the abyss.
And then the climax crashed over me again, a wave so fierce it stole the last of my sense.
He didn’t stop. He lapped up every shudder, drank down every last tremor, dragging me through the aftershocks with slow, sensual indulgence.
He murmured against my skin, his voice thick, wrecked. ‘I could do this all night.’
I couldn’t speak. My body was nothing but sensation, limbs heavy, mind blurred in the haze of pleasure.
Then, in one swift, violent motion, he flipped me onto my stomach before giving me a chance to recover from his mouth.
A sharp gasp caught in my throat as he yanked my hips backwards.
His teeth latched onto my ear the moment he drove into me again, each thrust deep, brutal, claiming anew. Every nerve ending flared.
‘You are making a mess,’ he murmured, his hand spreading our release all over my buttocks.
Reaching for a pillow, he slid it beneath me, angling me for his own pleasure.
A single hand tugged at my wrists, crossing them at my back, pinning me down with brutal strength that belied the frenzied hunger in him.
And then he continued.
Relentlessly.
I moaned. I cried. I screamed against his palm as he fucked me, kissed me, bit me…
My body shattered beneath him, an aching mess of pleasure and pain painted in the echoes of his belt, the bite of his teeth – his ruin.
I collapsed against the mattress with the next climax, boneless, breathless. His own followed, but he never broke contact, never let me go. Just simply adjusted me, pulling me, pushing me, wrapping himself around me like a punishment and a blessing in one.
At long last, his hand found my throat gently. His nose buried into my hair as he settled next to me, his breath warm against my skin, slowing, mooring, his heart beating so hard I could feel its rhythm against the mattress.
He held me tighter, his fingers flexing against my skin as if reluctant to let go – not out of dominance this time, but something dangerously close to need.
His palm rested on my hip, the same place he had spanked with the belt. The touch was light, almost reverent, yet the sting beneath it kept me tethered to the lingering ache of his possession. The aftermath was a ghost against my skin, a reminder of everything he had taken, everything I had given.
Then he moved.
His lips traced the curve of my shoulder, pressing warmth into bruised flesh, trailing lower, down the length of my spine.
I felt him pause where he had struck me, his breath a whisper of heat against the tender skin.
A kiss.
Soft – over the place he’d punished. It wasn’t meant to soothe, but it wasn’t cruel, either. He let me linger in that exquisite place between pleasure and pain, letting my body register both at once.
His breathing steadied before mine did.
The quiet between us was heavier than any word, a fragile thing we both pretended we weren’t breaking.
‘Was I too harsh?’ His voice was barely a murmur, slipping into my ear just as sleep began to pull me under.
I shook my head, too exhausted for words.
He shifted, winding himself around me again, moulding his body to mine, his breath slow and steady against my skin.
‘I can’t get enough of you,’ he murmured, his lips brushing my temple, fingers flexing slightly where they rested atop me.
Distantly, I thought I heard him say something else, a whisper threading through the last edges of my consciousness.
But the words scattered like smoke before I could hold onto them: ‘Where have you been all my life?’ was the echo that followed me into my dreams. And I was gone.
I slipped into the quiet void with every nerve aching, my lungs burning. He’d ruined me, then remade me from the wreckage.
One tear at a time.