Chapter 16
sixteen
“Very good, my Monarch. Submitting before your true master.”
She doesn’t realize it yet, but she’s just sacrificed one of her most sacred beliefs—that the society rules over us all.
They don’t own the girl on her knees. Not anymore.
The first thing I truly wanted is bowed before me with reverence, and my cock is stiffer than it’s ever been. Harder than the night I first tasted her. When she came on my tongue, trembling like a sinner in revival.
With two deliberate fingers, I lift her chin, forcing those wide, conflicted eyes onto mine. “Look at my face while you undo my belt.”
She hesitates for the briefest second, vulnerability flickering in her gaze, but obediently raises her trembling fingers. The rasp of my zipper sliding down echoes obscenely in the chamber. My dick jumps in anticipation.
“This time, queen, you do it because you want it,” I murmur, voice rough with desire as she slips my boxer briefs lower. My cock springs free, pulsing eagerly toward her parted lips, but I grip the base firmly, holding it just beyond reach. “Do you?”
Her gaze climbs my body, filled with lust and awe, until her eyes meet my mask. A breath shivers out in a desperate whisper as she answers, “Yes.”
“Then I’m going to use your throat for my pleasure.”
The moment her plush lower lip opens wider, I thrust into her heated mouth, savoring the immediate slick warmth. My head falls back, memorizing every exquisite sensation as her tongue swirls, teases, worships. Her palms clutch my ass cheeks instinctively, urging me to get closer.
But I know her deepest fantasies intimately—every twisted, secret desire she penned in her diaries.
“Ah, ah…” I say, gripping the back of her neck, but still letting my thumb rub her scalp. “You don’t get to take control, not when your mind’s a war zone.”
My tone sharpens, low and possessive. “I’m taking over now. You want quiet? Then obey me.”
She pulls back, a question on her face. With my free hand, I grip her jaw, tilting her head slightly. “Hands behind you, Monarch. Show me you want peace.”
Tears well at the corners of her eyes as she struggles to comply, but she follows the order without protest. I plunge in fully, stabbing her throat, relishing her strangled moans.
I withdraw only long enough to watch her gasp desperately for air before grasping her neck and controlling her completely. “Beg me to breathe.”
She sputters, her muffled cries vibrating deliciously around my cock.
I release her for one ragged inhale before driving myself back into the tight, hot grip of her throat.
“On this altar of the forgotten, you’re choosing a new system.
They let you choke on silence. But I’ll teach you how to breathe through surrender. ”
My knees weaken, spine arching as pleasure threatens to unravel me. Pulling back swiftly, I pinch off the throbbing crown to prevent my impending release as she coughs, gasps for a breath, cheeks flushed.
“Worship your new god.” My voice is lethal as I slap the tip against her panting tongue. “Say it while I fuck the faith out of you.”
Gagging softly, she moans around me. “I worship it.”
“You worship me,” I snarl, gripping the crown of her head. “And you’ll never pray to anyone else again.”
Seizing a handful of her hair, I tilt her face back sharply, slipping myself into her mouth again, watching the fire ignite in her glare.
She’s caught in that exquisite struggle between shame and desire—torn between the degradation she secretly craves and the pride she desperately clings to.
I watch as her hands rise again, caressing my ass, seeking control.
This time, I allow it, noticing how her thighs shift restlessly beneath her, friction building as she kneels submissively before me.
“Going to come from having my cock down your throat? That’s the kind of perfect sinner you really are, isn’t it?” My words drip with dark approval.
She writhes helplessly, doling out an affirmative whimper, hips grinding against the air, lost completely in the overwhelming sensations. The sight pushes me closer to the edge, her enthusiastic worship driving me to madness.
“My devout little slut,” I breathe out huskily, wrecked with control I’m barely holding. “Getting off just from pleasuring my cock… Now swallow every drop—like a girl born to kneel.”
With an ecstatic, desperate moan muffled by my release, I erupt, flooding her mouth. Thick white ropes spill from her lips, trailing down her chin as she eagerly laps at the remnants, greedily savoring my flavor.
As she collapses forward, panting on all fours, I lean back against the altar, chest heaving, my own breathing ragged and satisfied.
When I look down at her—hair a wild mess, damp strands clinging to her forehead with glistening sweat, breasts rising and falling rapidly beneath the tight fabric of her shirt, thighs clenching, cheeks flaming red—I know…
She’s mine. Utterly, irrevocably mine.
Reaching down, I swipe my thumb over her swollen lips, letting her suck the tip gently as those blazing green eyes search my masked face. After adjusting myself and zipping up, I offer her my hand. She eyes it cautiously, but takes it, nonetheless.
“Let’s go,” I command, nodding toward the back exit leading into the cemetery.
“Where?”
“I’m escorting you home. It’s late, and you need rest.”
As we step out into the cool, damp night, she shivers visibly. Without hesitation, I rip off my hoodie and drop it over her head, leaving myself in just my long-sleeved T-shirt. She shakes out her long, dark hair, studying my mask with wary curiosity.
“Are you finally going to tell me why?” she asks softly.
“Why, what?”
I point out a fallen branch for her to step over, guiding her around a gravestone by placing a careful hand near her lower back.
“Why you…” Her voice trails off in frustration, replaced by a ragged sigh. “Why you saved me. Why you’ve followed me. Have written in my diary. Studied it. How long, Vanq? What’s this all really about? Is it my family?”
My gloved fingers hover protectively, inches from touching her. And even through the fabric, I feel the energy radiating between us.
I tilt my seamless balaclava upward, taking in the quiet brilliance of the stars scattered overhead. The peaceful silence feels almost mocking, stirring memories I’ve long kept hidden.
“I remember the first time I saw you freshman year,” I confess, voice roughening with the weight of truth.
“You were so determined, so full of life. You never noticed me—why would you? I was just some geeky kid in the corner at orientation, hidden behind a laptop playing a video game. But I noticed you. Especially how willingly you obeyed every authority figure giving orders.”
I draw in a slow, controlled breath, finally revealing the truth I’ve guarded so closely: “And from that moment, all I wanted was to break you.”
She stops. Halting her steps by a large oak, and I falter, allowing my fingers to graze her hip to steady us both. But by now, she seems used to me. Unafraid, but careful.
“You’ve been watching me all this time? Because…you wanted me to rebel?”
“Yes. The most dangerous rebels are those forged from perfect obedience.”
Her throat tightens as she swallows. “You’re recruiting me.”
My face launches into a smile. Inadvertently, my hand raises to brush her cheek ever-so-gently. “Yes, my Monarch. I am.”
“To…” She glances anxiously around us before lowering her voice to a whisper. “To rebel against the Seven?”
Every nerve in my body screams at me to hold her, to press my body into hers. Seeing her wrapped in my clothing stirs fantasies I never dared entertain—but here she stands, reality surpassing every dream.
She faces me, lifts her fingers, and glides them along the curve of my jaw. I let her, shivering from the electricity of her touch.
But I tilt my head away…
Decisively, she crosses her arms and nods at me. “You wear it to keep people out.”
I don’t respond, only hold a breath to hear what she has to say.
“It’s not that different from me. I just…use charm and lipstick instead of anonymity.”
Releasing a slow breath, I grin with shared solidarity. “Yet they still want pieces of you.”
Cupping her cheek, I lean in, and she presses her face against my hold. When I dip my face toward her lips, it’s not a kiss. Only the idea of it… Allowing my mouth to sense hers before brushing a whisper close to her skin.
“But I want all of you. The parts you bury. The ones you blame. I want the hidden version that’s still raw and bleeding.”
She gasps, but doesn’t move away. In fact, she steps into my gravity until there’s nothing left between us but heat and a held breath. My hands ghost over her shoulders, restraint shaking my fingers. I don’t speak. I just beg the universe to give her to me.
Just above a whisper, she says, “Then give me something real. Something I can trade for the part of me you’re stealing.”
Her gaze lifts, slow and intentional, and when our eyes lock, my heart stutters. Dark lashes tremble, but her stare slices through me like a solemn vow. It’s a moment before I can even gather the strength to respond.
“Bedtime,” I warn softly, slipping my hand into hers and guiding her through the iron gate toward the lake. As much as I want to know everything about this woman, I’m cautious about opening myself up to her completely.
Not yet.
She follows uncertainly but doesn’t resist. “This is weird. Is this your idea of a date?”
“I’m a weird guy.” The words slip out unfiltered—my real voice, not the one wrapped in shadows. She pauses abruptly, her eyes carefully scanning my figure. My blood turns to ice.
“You…remind me of someone.”
My chest tightens. Fuck. “I’m not like anyone.”
She shakes her head, dismissing whatever thought haunted her. “No, you’re certainly not.”