Chapter Twenty-Seven
Waking to the feel of his consort dragging her tongue up the length of his cock would never get old.
Cain threaded his fingers through her sleek hair, drinking in the sight of her straddling his body, wearing only his shirt, and fisting his shaft with blatant territorialism. “I do love that tongue of yours.”
Seeing her lick and touch and play with his dick, knowing he owned that beautifully lush mouth, made his possessiveness unfold and stretch out inside him.
Locking their gazes, Wynter swallowed his cock.
He drew in a breath through his nose. “Suck, baby.”
She did, her eyes still fixed on his. Resisting the urge to take over, he watched as she worked every inch of him, length and girth. Christ. It seemed as if, over time, she’d learned and filed away every little thing he liked—just as he’d done for her.
The wet heat of her mouth, the tight stretch of her lips, how hard she sucked, the rasp of her tongue against each ridge and vein . . . It was utter perfection. “My pretty little toy knows just how to make me feel good.”
Her eyes flared with heat. She upped her game, sinking down faster, sucking harder, eating at his control. Until he had no choice but to snatch up her head, since he wanted to come deep inside her body, not in her mouth.
He used the head of his cock to paint her lower lip with drops of pre-come. “Don’t lick them off. Leave them there. I want to see them while I take you.”
“All right.”
She began pumping his cock, her grip sure and bold.
He thrust into her hand with a grunt. “Put my dick inside you.”
Oh, gladly. Wynter dropped down hard, impaling herself in one smooth move. Her breath caught. Jesus, he filled her—so thick, his shaft pushed against her inner walls with such pressure it stung; pressed on and brushed against every nerve-ending, making her feel overly stuffed.
“Don’t move,”
he said when she went to ride him, removing his shirt from her so she was utterly naked. “You just stay right there like that. I’ll move you as and when and where I want you.”
Well.
“Quick warning. My creature is done waiting.”
She’d thought as much. It had risen during their bout of shower sex last night to bite her. As it took three injections of its venom to perform the binding, she’d known the monster would likely bite her again very soon. “Then it’ll be pleased to know I don’t need it to wait any longer.”
His lips curved into a pitying smile as he cupped her hips. “Sweet witch, it wouldn’t have let you make it wait.”
He began slamming her down on his dick, thrusting upwards each time to ram himself deep. He used her in that way he often did, handling her like she was merely a toy that existed purely to get him off—nothing more, nothing less. And she’d long ago accepted how insanely intoxicating she found it.
Wynter dug her nails into his chest, letting him have his way. He took her savagely, his pace furious, his grip on her hips so tight she knew he’d leave bruises. Wynter didn’t care. Not when every upward slam of his cock hit her just right, winding her body tight.
Pure pleasure ghosted along her soul, soft but so electric it snatched her breath and made her feel so fucking alive. Hot. Charged. Then it came again and again.
Her heart raced. Her breaths came sharp and fast. Her nipples pebbled. Her skin turned so ultra-sensitive it felt like buzzing little sparks skipped along it, sending a sea of little bumps sweeping over her. “Cain . . .”
“Don’t come. Not yet.”
Cain ground his teeth at the sight of his cock, all slick and shiny, disappearing into her body over and over. Christ, she was a fucking vision. Her lips were swollen, the lower one damp with pre-come. A pretty flush had swept up her body, reddening her cheeks. Her tits bounced in an almost hypnotic rhythm, her nipples dark and tight with arousal.
His creature slid beneath his skin, fairly quivering in anticipation. It didn’t push Cain to hurry, content in the knowledge that it would soon bind Wynter to it.
He sent more pleasure sweeping over her soul, so it would feel like a warm, static hand had given her entire being a firm, drawn-out stroke. She arched into the sensation, like a cat would arch into a full-body pet, and pricked his skin harder with her nails.
“Come when you’re ready, pretty witch.”
Her breathing sped up. Her inner walls fluttered. A whimper slipped out of her.
Cain rolled her clit with his thumb, and that was all it took. She came hard, her eyes glazing over, her pussy squeezing him tight. Remaining inside her, he rolled them both over and left all restraint behind as he powered into her, brutal and primitive.
She took it, curling her legs around his hips, scratching at his back. The sting made his balls tighten.
He dragged the siren song of her scent into his lungs. Laced with need and magick, it made his head swim. Wynter Dellavale had been his drug since the first time he’d fucked her, and he knew that would never change. He didn’t want it to.
He gripped her breast and held it still so he could latch onto her nipple. She moaned, her pussy rippling around him. Her nails scored his back again hard enough to sting. And he figured that turnabout was fair play.
Wynter gasped as pain-edged pleasure spanked her soul like the flat of a hand. And then came another spank. And another. Some were more like light taps. Others cracked down hard. Some felt like the flick of velvet tassels.
The tempo of the sensations repeatedly went from slow to fast then back again. There was no rhythm. No way to time when the next spank would come or guess just how much of a sting it would carry.
The assault to her soul continued even as he kept fucking in and out of her. Soon, she was drunk on pleasure and pain and feel-good chemicals. God, she was close to imploding.
But then the strikes to her soul turned soft, silky, and ultralight. As if ribbons were being trailed along her very being. Which wouldn’t get her off right now. And he damn well knew it.
A sob of frustration caught in her throat. “You gotta make me come.”
“Since when do toys get to demand anything?”
He bit into her jaw. “Your only purpose at this moment is to get me off. Something you’re so very good at.”
On and on the torture went. He manipulated her body using every tool at his disposal. Until she was coiled tight, both inside and out.
She shook and whimpered and clawed at him. He didn’t take pity on her, though. He plied her soul with yet more sensations. Little pinches. Tiny scrapes. Suckling bites. Velvet lashes.
She sank into the pleasure and the pain. More, she lost herself in it. Sounds dimmed, as if the physical world was so very far away. Only Cain’s weight and the slamming of his cock kept her anchored.
“You feel me everywhere, don’t you? Don’t you?”
he pushed when she didn’t respond.
“Yes.”
Her voice broke on a sob.
He snarled. “There’s no part of you I can’t touch. No inch of you I don’t own. No fragment of your soul that’s free of me.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “That goes both ways.”
“Of course it does.”
He switched his angle and pounded harder, striking her sweet spot with each feverish thrust. “Come. Break for me.”
His eyes changed as his creature surfaced, and then it bit her neck hard. The stab of his teeth hurt, much like the venom that slipped into her bloodstream. But the pain triggered the orgasm that had been looming so close.
Wynter broke, tears springing to her eyes. She screamed as her release clawed its way through her, ripping her apart with its intensity. She dug her nails deeper into his back, arching into him, sunk deep in pure bliss . . . which was when something seemed to latch onto and twine itself around her—she couldn’t quite explain or describe it, since the sensation faded so quickly. She was so caught up in it all that she was barely aware of the hot streams of come filling her pussy as Cain’s monster exploded above her.
She flopped to the mattress, her arms spread wide. Her throat was bone dry, and her body was a happy mass of trembling muscles. Yowza.
Bracing himself on his elbows, Cain pressed a kiss to the bite on her neck. It was done now. She was officially bound to his monster. Good luck with that, little witch.
His creature merely sniffed at that mental comment, too pleased with itself to be truly annoyed with Cain. All along, it had felt somewhat on the sidelines—particularly since she’d been unaware of its existence for some time. It had even felt jealous that Cain owned her soul. Now that it had its own claim to her, the creature was content.
She looked up at him through eyes that were soft and languid. “I don’t feel any different.”
“Did you think you would?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, really.”
“You’re not bound to my monster in a way that forms a metaphysical bond. Your life-forces are tied, that’s different.”
He dropped a light kiss on her mouth. “By the way, that bite won’t heal much.”
Her lips parted. “Ever?”
He shook his head. “The third bite is an official claiming mark. The skin will close over, but the bite will always look fresh. Also . . .”
He swiped his tongue over the brand, and she bucked in his arms with a gasp. He smiled. “Such marks are allegedly extremely sensitive to the point of being erogenous. If your reaction is anything to go by, it seems that that is in fact the case.”
Her brow flicked up. “You don’t think this is maybe something you should have told me before I let the monster have its way?”
“Probably. But it’s more fun to surprise you.”
“Surprise me, or fuck with my head?”
“Aren’t they essentially the same thing?”
“No. No, not at all.”
He merely shrugged.
She looked at the ceiling, mumbling something he couldn’t quite make out.
Cain felt his mouth kick up. He hadn’t smiled anywhere near so much until Wynter came along. Well, she gave him plenty to smile about, especially when she so often did the unexpected. He doubted any other woman would have dared curse his cock so that it would wither and rot if he ever betrayed her. Only Wynter. His Wynter.
Their lives had so easily clicked together. She was a Priestess. He was a ruler of sorts. They had different responsibilities and duties. Yet, there had been no push and pull, no struggle for balance, no difficulty for either to keep a foothold in their own “world”. He wouldn’t have expected that. Wouldn’t have thought it could work that way.
But then, he wouldn’t have thought a lot of things until Wynter. More, he wouldn’t have believed that anyone could become part of him, until there was no way he could exist in this world without them.
He combed his fingers through her hair, letting his gaze drift possessively over her face. “I forgot to tell you something.”
Her gaze flew back to his, her brows slightly inching together. “What?”
“I realized something when you almost fell through the netherworld portal right before my eyes.”
She slid her hands over his shoulders. “It would be nice if you didn’t glare at me like I did that on purpose. I was kind of unconscious.”
“I know.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “I thought for sure I wouldn’t get to you in time. My heart was in my throat. My creature was frozen in horror. Fear . . . I could taste it, smell it. Even though I caught you and hauled you to me with Seth’s help, that fear didn’t leave right away. I could feel your soul, I knew I hadn’t lost you, but relief didn’t really hit me until you opened your eyes. And I realized that, fuck, I love you.”
Her face softened. “You do?”
“I do.”
He lifted his head. “I didn’t know that the emotion could be so intense and raw. Didn’t know it could be so dark that it straddled the line of obsession and could make a person so much more dangerous than what they already were before. I am more dangerous for loving you, because to lose you would be to lose myself. You’re as much a part of me as my own soul.”
Ignoring the ache in her throat, Wynter swallowed. “Well, that’s . . .”
Dammit, she got all choked up and awkward and flustered. She’d never be good with expressing how she felt, or at handling hearing how deeply he felt for her. And she could tell that, sensing her struggle, he really wanted to laugh right now. Asshole.
As she suddenly remembered something he’d said before, she frowned. “Hold on a sec, you realized you love me, but you ‘forgot’ to tell me? How? How does one forget that?”
“Perhaps ‘one’ was waiting for the right moment.”
He bit her bottom lip as he withdrew from her body. Rolling them both onto their sides so that they faced each other, he added, “Now here’s where you give me the words back.”
“You’ve already heard them many times.”
“I want to hear them again.”
“So spoilt.”
She gave him a quick kiss. “I love you.”
“I hope for both our sakes that you never stop, because I will still keep you here. In chains, if necessary.”
She sighed. “What is it with you and chains?”
“Why are you so opposed to them?”
He cupped her pussy but didn’t stroke her, as if he just wanted to hold her that way. “Being a sexual captive wouldn’t be so bad.”
Yeah, in Hattie’s world. “It wouldn’t be anywhere near as exciting for you as you seem to think. I would make a terrible captive. Defiant. Bitchy. Totally uncooperative—”
“All of which would give me reason to punish you.”
He hummed. “I do like to punish you on occasion.”
“Yeah, well, I’d also do whatever it took to get free, and kill whoever stood in my way—including you.”
She probably shouldn’t have been surprised at how heat flared in his eyes. “God, you’re so weird.”
“Now really, little witch, are you in a position to be throwing stones like that?”
he teased, sliding his hand from her pussy up to palm her breast. “You come back from the dead. You host one of the Rephaim. You gave yourself to the son of Satan. And you lead a coven of people who wouldn’t know ‘sane’ if it skewered them with a sword.”
“What’s your point?”
His lips hiking up, he kissed her. “Would you prefer if we pretend I don’t have one?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, I would.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. Back to what we were speaking of before . . . So, being chained up would truly be a problem for you?”
She made an exasperated sound in the back of her throat.
“I’d make sure they weren’t made of iron. You wouldn’t have to worry that they’d weaken you.”
“Oh, well that changes things.”
“Does it?”
“Honestly? Honestly, no.”
She held up her hand. “Chains are out. And don’t think I don’t know you’re enjoying how huffy and frowny this topic makes me.”
He smiled. “Of course I enjoy it. Why else would I keep bringing up the subject?”
Releasing her breast, he slipped his hand further down to palm her ass. “It’s as if you still sometimes forget that fucking with your head makes me hard.”
She exhaled a long breath. “I guess there are worse kinks.”