Epilogue 2
Matteo
Idon’t give her time to fully recover from her orgasm. While her body still twitches with aftershocks, I fuck her harder with the ice-cold dildo, twisting it inside her so the frozen ridges drag against her sensitive walls.
Her head thrashes from side to side as her moans turn into pure primal cries for more. When I reach for the candle again with my free hand, her entire body tenses in anticipation, knowing what’s coming next but completely helpless to do anything but take it.
“Oh God. Yes, God. Yes, yes, yes,” she chants, voice already hoarse from screaming. “Matteo, I can’t… I can’t…”
“Yes, you can.” I drive the dildo deeper, grinding it against her G-spot while I hold the candle poised above her stomach. “And you will.”
The first drop of wax lands just below her navel, making her jerk and cry out. The second and third follow in quick succession, creating a burning path down toward her mound.
Her pussy clenches visibly around the dildo, the contrasting sensations of ice inside and fire outside overwhelming her senses.
“Fucking hell!” she half-screams, half-sobs, pulling at her restraints. “It’s too much… it’s… fuck. Don’t stop!”
I drip more wax across her hips, down her thighs, watching her skin flush pink beneath the hardening red drops. All while continuing to work the frozen toy in and out of her soaked cunt, building her toward another climax.
“You like that, don’t you?” I growl, pressing the dildo against her front wall and holding it there while I dribble hot wax in a circle around her left nipple. “You like feeling owned and used and worshipped all at once.”
“Yes,” she gasps, the word breaking on a moan. “With you. I love everything with you.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“More wax,” she begs immediately. “Directly on my nipples—”
I cut her off by giving her exactly what she wants, tilting the candle so three large drops land directly on her right nipple.
Her reaction is instant and violent; back arches off the table, thighs tremble, a scream tears from her throat that’s almost inhuman in its intensity.
“Again,” she demands with a cry. “Do it again.”
I repeat the process on her left nipple, simultaneously driving the dildo harder into her clenching pussy. She’s close again, her inner walls fluttering around the frozen toy, breath coming in ragged gasps.
“That’s it,” I encourage, my own voice rough with desire. “Come for me again, Little Thief.”
Her second orgasm hits her like a freight train, her entire body convulsing, muscles straining against the leather cuffs. She’s fucking beautiful like this—wild, uninhibited, completely surrendered to the pleasure-pain I’m giving her.
“Don’t stop,” she begs before she’s even finished coming, her hips still grinding against the toy. “Don’t you fucking dare stop.”
“Greedy little thing,” I chuckle, but I don’t stop. Instead, I increase the pace, fucking her harder with the dildo while dripping more wax along her collarbone, across the tops of her breasts.
“Yes,” she hisses, head thrown back, throat exposed. “I’m greedy for you. Always. I want everything you can give me.”
I lean closer, my lips brushing her ear. “And what if I want to give you my cock? Want to replace this toy with the real thing? Want to fuck this tight little cunt while I paint your skin with burning wax?”
“Please,” she whimpers, the sound so desperate it makes my cock throb painfully. “Please, I want to feel you stretching me, filling me, using me.”
“Such a filthy mouth,” I growl, nipping at her earlobe. “But you beg so prettily.”
I trace the dildo up to circle her clit, pressing the freezing tip against the swollen bundle of nerves. She cries out, hips jerking violently.
“Tell me you’re mine,” I demand, flicking the dildo back and forth across her clit while hovering the candle dangerously close to her breast.
“I’m yours,” she gasps immediately. “All yours, only yours, forever fucking yours.”
“Tell me you love me.”
“I love you, Matteo. I love you so much it terrifies me. I love you more than anything—”
The third orgasm takes her by surprise, triggered by the combination of my words and the pressure on her clit. She screams my name, over and over, her voice breaking as pleasure rips through her, leaving her trembling and incoherent.
I set down the candle and the toy, my hands moving quickly to release her ankles first, then her wrists. She’s limp, completely spent, but her hands immediately reach for me once they’re free.
“Need you,” she slurs, fingers grasping at my shoulders, trying to pull me closer. “Need your cock in me. Please.”
Her eyes are glazed with pleasure, pupils blown so wide the brown is just a thin ring around bottomless black. Her makeup is smeared from sweat and tears. Fucking perfect.
“Turn over,” I command, helping her roll onto her stomach. “Ass up.”
She complies with clumsy eagerness, positioning herself on all fours, back arched to present her perfect ass to me.
I grab her hips, positioning myself at her entrance. She’s so wet that my cock slides in with almost no resistance, despite its size and the metal piercing. We groan in unison as I bottom out, the tight heat of her pussy gripping me like a vise.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I growl, grinding deeper. “So tight, so perfect for me.”
“Yes,” she moans, pushing back against me, taking me impossibly deeper.
I reach for the oil and quickly cover her back and perfect ass. Then I replace said oil with the candle, holding it over her back as I begin to thrust.
The first drop of wax lands between her shoulder blades just as I slam into her, and she shrieks, her pussy clenching around me so tightly it’s almost painful.
“Oh, my… fuck. Yes, yes.” Her arms give out, her face pressing against the table as her ass stays raised for me to use. “More, more, more!”
I establish a brutal rhythm, each thrust pushing her further up the table, each drop of wax making her clench and spasm around my cock. The sight of her like this—covered in my marks, stuffed full of my cock, begging for more—pushes me dangerously close to the edge.
“Touch yourself,” I order, continuing to fuck her while dribbling wax down the curve of her spine. “Make yourself come on my cock.”
One hand snakes beneath her body, finding her clit. I can feel her fingers moving against it, can feel how it makes her inner walls flutter and grip me tighter. Her moans get higher, more desperate with each thrust.
“I’m gonna come,” she warns, voice muffled against the table. “Fuck, I’m gonna come so hard on your cock, Matteo, please don’t stop, please—”
“Look at me,” I growl, and somehow she manages to turn her head, her eyes locking with mine over her shoulder. “I want to see your face when you fall apart.”
The eye contact is what does it. She comes with a scream that echoes off the walls of the empty club, her pussy clamping down on my cock in rhythmic pulses that drag me right over the edge with her.
My own orgasm hits like a fucking explosion, white-hot and all-consuming. I drive into her one last time, as deep as I can go, growling her name as I empty myself inside her. My vision blurs at the edges, pleasure so intense it borders on pain ripping through me.
For endless seconds, there’s nothing but this—her body and mine, joined and pulsing, suspended in perfect ecstasy.
When reality reassembles itself, I find her collapsed on the table, trembling, and gasping for breath. I’m still buried inside her, my weight pressing her down, both of us slick with sweat and her decorated with cooling wax.
“Holy shit,” she manages, voice completely wrecked. “That was… fuck, I don’t even have words.”
I press a kiss to her shoulder, tasting salt and a hint of wax. “Are you okay?”
She laughs, the sound vibrating through both of our bodies. “In the best possible way.” She turns her head, seeking my mouth for a clumsy, exhausted kiss. “Love you, Firestarter.”
“Love you too, Little Thief,” I murmur against her lips.
Eventually, I pull out of Raven’s cunt and help her sit up so she’s facing me. She winces slightly as dried wax cracks and peels from her skin. Her eyes are still glazed, lips swollen from biting them, hair a wild pink mess around her shoulders.
I can’t help but stare at her—this chaotic, beautiful woman who somehow survived both a psychopath’s revenge plot and me. She catches me looking and grins, that familiar mischievous spark returning to her expression despite the obvious exhaustion in every line of her body.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she teases, picking at a piece of wax stuck to her collarbone.
“Don’t tempt me.” I reach for my phone on the nearby table, and she laughs, swatting at my hand.
“If you take nudes of me covered in dried wax and looking like I just survived a sexorcism, I will actually murder you. Especially if my ass isn’t front and center to make up for it.”
“You look fucking perfect.” I pull her closer, not caring about the wax flakes now sticking to my own skin. “Besides, I’ve already seen what you look like trying to drown me. It’s hot.”
She rolls her eyes, but snuggles into my side, anyway. We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, her fingers tracing patterns through the dried wax.
“So,” she finally says, her tone shifting to something more serious. “I talked to Holston today about coming back to work.”
Even though I already knew that, I tense slightly. “Yeah? What did the asshole say?”
“First of all, he’s not an asshole. He’s been really understanding about my family emergency.” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “And second, he’s giving me a promotion.”
This catches me off guard. “A promotion?”
“Assistant Director of Strategic Communications.” She sits up straighter, pride evident in her voice. “More money and more responsibility. I’ll be handling all the major accounts now.”