27. Maddison #3
“Fuck you,” I spit out, and even I’m shocked at the words that leave my lips before I can even think about them. It feels good. So unbelievably good to say what I mean, a weight sliding off my chest, even if just a fraction. “Fuck this and fuck you!”
His stormy eyes flare, taken aback, before his sticky fingers fold around my throat, one finger at a time.
Ash looks like a predator as he slowly unbuckles his belt, pulling the leather out of the loops, one by one.
Seconds tick by as I glare up at him, the leather sliding around like a snake in his hands.
His ravaged hand squeezes tighter around my throat, blood rushing to my head between the grip on my hair and the hand around my neck.
His voice is cold, devoid of any emotion when he says, “If you think you can come and go when it comes to the Devils, then you are sorely mistaken, little angel.
I've killed my own men for less. The second you stepped through that door that first time...
you were mine. Do you fucking understand me? You're mine.”
I gasp a breath as his fingers press deeper into my neck, spots beginning to blur in my vision.
His inked hand comes to undo the button in his trousers, his cock straining against the material.
Although adrenaline and panic flood my veins, I can't help the way my thighs clench with want as he pulls his cock out, the tip blushed and glistening with his pre cum, his balls drawn up tight.
The man behind me shoves my face forward, stopping just an inch before Ash’s long, proud dick.
Blood drips down my arms and down my legs as I stay kneeling before him, my eyes locked onto the tattoo scrawled at the base of his cock.
The tattoo that makes me want to give him everything he’s asking of me, even though I know I can’t.
“Prove to me that you are a Devil. Prove to me that you're worthy to be one of us,” he growls as I lick my lips, wetting them in preparation. Because I know what comes next. And some sick, depraved part of me stirs with need.
Ash flicks his hips forward in a second, shoving his immense length into my parted lips, sliding it over my tongue and finding the back of my throat.
I gag instantly. Saliva streaming down my chin and onto his cock.
But he doesn't let up, pulling back only an inch before shoving in even further, the round tip of his cock forcing its way down my throat.
My hands come up to grip his thighs as he sets a brutal rhythm, fucking my face with vicious, brutal thrusts.
There is nothing sweet about this. It’s raw and vicious. Rough and animalistic. It's sick, but I can't help the way my needy core throbs as he squeezes my throat tighter around the bulge his cock is forming.
It’s impossible to breathe with the way he fills my throat so completely. He pulls back his cock, slipping past my lips, long strands of saliva connecting us together as he allows me to suck through a couple forced breaths. My throat feels raw and ravaged.
“Come on, my needy little thing. You can do fucking better than that,” he growls.
With his grip on my throat and the hand in my hair, he pulls me forward, making me cough and splutter, before shoving his cock back into my throat. The hand in my hair helps him push me further onto his cock until my nose nuzzles the soft curls above his length.
Tears and snot and saliva stream down my face, makeup blurring my vision as he takes and takes and takes. Even the sounds he makes above me are nothing but pure carnal lust, his throat vibrating with grunts and groans.
I feel everyone’s eyes burning into me, and it just spurs me on. Imagining what they are seeing right now has my nipples pebbling and the lace of my panties growing damp.
My eyes trace up, up the president patch on his leather vest. Then up his inked neck, muscles and tendons straining under the dark swirls. They keep going up, vision blurred with tears and mascara until I find his eyes.
And for a second, his hips falter, the punishing rhythm he takes out on my throat pausing. Dark, stormy eyes soften, and a line forms between his brows.
But I blink and it’s gone, replaced by his snarl as he shoves himself impossibly deep down my throat. I feel the blood pooling in my face, dizzy and breathless.
Without the two men holding me up, I would be face down on the ground. Both of them using and manipulating me, like I’m nothing but a toy. And damn if it doesn’t have my body begging to be filled. Begging to be used like this for the rest of the night, by everyone in the room.
Like I said, I’m sick. But right now, I don’t even have it in me to care.
My vision blacks out in the corners, and instinct has me shoving at his thick thighs as he pushes deeper and deeper into my throat.
The world around me is fading as I hear him curse. A masculine whine spills from him before the flavour of him explodes over my tongue. And just as the world begins to go dark, they let go of me.
I fall back, spent and defeated, my eyes fluttering shut as I lay in the puddle of another man’s blood.