Chapter 12
12
She swallowed, wishing her arousal wasn’t so obvious.
She might be strong and fast, but Vargr was stronger.
And she’d discovered she liked it that way. Or she did when he had her like this.
Angry at her, but not too much, intending to fuck her no matter what she did, and pinned in place—that was the cream on the top.
His hand on her neck was her weakness, her kryptonite. She tried to wriggle to test his hold and couldn’t move. Being manhandled, god, yes, fucking yes.
Weak at the knees, wishing he’d do something nastier without asking, she eyed him.
He stared her down. Due to her weight, his fingers below were sinking between her pussy lips, but he also curled them deliberately, penetrating her most intimate place.
Finally, unable to stop herself, she let her eyes close and exhaled shakily.
So aware of him already being inside her.
“Going to answer?” His thumb dug in beneath her jaw, forcing up her chin.
The water poured over them from the side wall, down the dress and her legs. She was soaked, and she wanted him to turn her around her fuck her hard, standing up. She didn’t want to have to beg.
What had that fuck meant when she said it?
It’d meant fuck, you just blew me away. Take me I’m yours, so long as she didn’t have to explain how she went from badass bitch to whimpering whore in under three seconds. Those wings he’d unfurled rendered this a scene from some dark web porno where angels did obscenely wrong things in all the right ways to their female captives.
“Meant that I…” She couldn’t help herself, had to say this. “Hate you.” Taunting him was a sport. She licked her tongue over her mouth. The more she riled him, the nastier he might get.
“Hah. Hah.” He didn’t look too convinced, so she raspberried him.
Immediately, he pushed her higher up the wall and lowered his head, his mouth, to her breast, where he licked and sucked, devotedly, long enough to make her brain go bye-byes and her throat seize up. He played with her with his glorious tongue, slurped, sucked, bit, while his fingers tunneled further into her pussy, shoving aside the soft resistance of her flesh.
Thrusting there in little jabs… Arching forward, she grabbed at him and found his slippery muscled shoulder. She was drowning, and he was all that kept her above the surface.
Soon, she was writhing, gasping, clutching at his head where his hair was stiff arrow-peaks.
The shower poured over them from the side, wetting them both, curling down her body in torrents. A waste. She didn’t give one fuck, not while his mouth had become her personal heaven. This beaster had her at his mercy.
Then he slid her even higher, and she barely had time to wonder where the ceiling was before he suctioned his hot mouth onto her clit. “Fuck!”
His palm on her belly fastened her to the wall.
Cyn stiffened, thighs squeezing onto his head. She was going to come, and she choked out a garbled sound.
He stopped licking, lowered her to her feet, and not until she had focused on him, did he speak.
“Soap me up, bitch. Earn it.”
Bitch? Panting, with a shaking arm, she swiped away hair that had plastered to her face. She studied him. He meant it. Fuck, this was hot.
Vargr placed a cake of soap on her palm, closed her hand over it, and she felt the slick of her own wetness on his fingers.
Wings still opened and pressing to the glass either side, feet planted shoulder width apart, he waited. His cock was standing up proud and, she’d swear, it was hungry looking.
He’d bewildered her. Mouth open, she shook her head at herself and decided there was nothing more she’d rather do than this. The reward was worth it. Did this debase her? She didn’t care. Hot, just plain hot. He’d made her horny enough to want to kiss his feet and all the way up him while he called her a slut, a bitch, or whatever.
She kneeled on the wet shower floor and began at his feet, soaping up his legs, absorbed by the feel of the hard sweeps and ridges of muscle and bone beneath her fingers. Having washed off the soap, she tempted herself and made him growl by nibbling on his knee. Tasting him, this clean man that still was quintessentially Vargr, it made her pussy squeeze in.
The scent of him… She put her nose to him and breathed in then raised her head and, with full eye-contact, licked up his as yet only water-rinsed thigh.
“Soap me. Not lick.” But there was a coarseness to his tone that had not been there.
Her soaping went up his body, covering thighs, belly, and chest. Until finally she smoothed suds over his balls and cock, washing them and noting how he’d ceased to breathe as her hand slid over him. Maybe she could end this by?—
“No.” Before her mouth engulfed his cock, he caught her with a painfully tight grip on her hair. “ Not unless I say. You want a red ass?” His smile was grim, threatening, burning through her.
Cyn blinked, surprised at how that’d turned her on. Him, spanking her, would be incredibly wrong. She gathered her composure and continued with her task.
She kept going until the soap and her palms had travelled all of his front, over the corrugated ridges of muscle, his nipples, and over his beautiful, thick neck.
She paused, wondering if his wings should be soaped.
“Leave them.” He grunted. “They’re fine.”
They did seem to be perfectly formed and free of any grime. She ran a hand down the edge of one wing then applied herself to admiring and soaping his back and buttocks.
He was a work of art made into flesh, bone, and wings.
Done, with his back rinsed and the last bubbles having been swept away in a rivulet that poured between the cheeks of his ass, she placed the soap in the wall holder and waited.
He turned, studied her, with a smile widening. “On your knees and open your mouth.”
Wait. What? Eyes narrowing, she wondered what he intended. “You wouldn’t?” Not after he turned her on so badly.
But already he was leaning in and whispering to her, “The raspberry was a bad idea” as his hand was winding into her wet hair, and he was tugging her down with a steady force she could not resist—because she didn’t quite want to. She bent at the knees then went to the floor with them, clawing ineffectually at his legs until he grabbed both wrists and fastened them with one great fist above and against the wall.
Then he twisted her hair in the other fist again and brought his cock to her mouth.
“Open, unless you prefer the other hole and no lube?”
This was crazy hot, and she was almost appalled at her own reaction as he put his cock to her mouth while she opened and let him commence the fucking.
The heat of this ran through her, reverberating, tingling, making her open her thighs as if to welcome cock there too, only to realize squeezing them together in pulses was more fun, more pleasurable. When he pulled out for a second, she stayed in position, mouth open, and was vaguely shocked at her moan, at how she met his gaze, past that glistening cock and basically how she begged for more with her eyes.
She could do with real fucking afterward, but this alone was enough to make her whimper. She gurgled as he plunged in again, slipping, thrusting over tongue and teeth to the very back.
Eyes shut, she let him fuck her mouth, let him roughly come at the climax while deep within, and she swallowed even though he was already telling her to. She simply did it. Besides it had Lure benefits. But she really should not have loved that so much.
So close to coming herself, riding a wave that ran up to the edge and pulled back, then washed up again… it had plusses. Though she heard herself quietly beg with that naughty word, please , and squirmed her ass about on the wall, he only kissed her, full-on over her messy mouth, their tongues tangling, breath mingling. Then he whispered the word, no .
He pulled her up and soaped her instead, washing her clean, though she was still in a euphoric haze of yearning for him and for his cock inside her, ramming into her, taking her. So she stayed silent and let him do that thing she’d developed a craving for—him manhandling her.
Fucking superb.
She’d revive her badass bitch later. Much later.