Chapter 13 #2
“No—no, please—” My voice breaks, high and wrecked.
He pulls out.
I scream.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just that raw, desperate little cry I’ve never made for anyone else. The one that comes from the deep hollow of my belly. From the place he’s carved out just for him.
“You beg like a fucking angel,” he says darkly. “But you’re still just a greedy little thief. Always taking. Always reaching.”
“I’m not—I’m trying—I’m yours, I swear?—”
He groans at that.
And then he slaps my pussy, sharp and wet, two fingers parting my folds to find my soaked clit.
“You call this trying? You’re dripping all over my cock and you think I’ll reward that?”
My knees wobble. I’m barely upright.
But I love it. God, I love it.
“Please,” I sob. “I can’t—I’ll die if you stop?—”
He shoves back into me with a savage thrust, and I swear I black out for a second. My head tips forward, head hanging off the bench as I gasp for air.
His rhythm is merciless. “Come now and I’ll edge you again for the rest of the fucking night,” he grits.
I choke on a moan.
The orgasm teeters, threatens, then fades when he pulls out again.
“You’re… this is, Jesus, please! Don’t stop,” I cry out, broken and shaking. “Please—Sir—I need it—Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything?—”
“I know,” he says, quieter now. And that’s the worst part.
He knows how much I crave this. How much I have to give him.
And the devil takes it all.
But when he finally gives it back—when he grabs my throat and slams into me again, cock thick and hot and filling me so deep I can’t breathe—I’m nothing but fire and ruin and pure, feral need.
“Now,” he growls. “Fucking come now.”
I shatter.
It rips through me, my orgasm crashing down so hard my body gives out. He holds me up. Fucks me through it. His breath catches as he follows—cock pulsing deep inside me as he presses his forehead to the back of my neck.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’ll destroy me, long before I destroy you, won’t you, little thief?”
I want to tell him he already has.
Instead, I just lie there trembling, leaking surrender, skin marked, soul claimed and body satisfied in the most dangerous way.
I hope I’ve taken something from him. I hope every moan I gave him tonight stains him forever.
I wake in the middle of the night.
Dante lies sprawled across the bed like a god sculpted from shadows and sin, chest rising in slow, even breaths. His arm’s flung across the sheets where my body had been, as if in sleep he still seeks me. The faintest furrow creases his brow. Even unconscious, he's guarded.
But not for long.
Because today, I have a plan. One that requires sweat, stamina, and sex so damn intense he won’t be able to see straight. If I wear him down enough, push his mind and body to the brink, I’ll buy myself the time I need.
Time to break into Ironveil. Time to find out what Vesper truly is beyond the whispers and smoke I heard about on the Dark Web, and what Specter... I ... have to do with it.
Slipping beneath the sheets, I breathe him in—sandalwood and smoke and power. He smells like ruin. Like temptation incarnate. I trail my lips down his stomach, watching for movement. His cock twitches once against his thigh.
I smile. Brat mode locked. “Rise and shine, Sir.”
I don’t give him a chance to protest.
My lips close around the head of his cock, tongue swirling lazily over his barbells as I hollow my cheeks and suck deep.
He grunts awake, eyes snapping open. One hand tangles in my hair, and for a moment, I think he’s going to take over. Or stop me. Demand I ask for permission.
But he doesn’t.
He watches instead. Silent. Letting me set the pace. Letting me pretend I’m in control.
And gradually, his breath is ragged, hands clenched at his sides like if he moves, he’ll lose whatever grip he has left. “You trying to kill me, my filthy little brat?” His voice is morning-rough and ruined, like gravel laced with sin.
I pull back, letting his cock fall from my lips with a wicked pop. I lick my lower lip slow, deliberate. “Not kill. Just weaken. Tear down a few firewalls. Maybe.”
His jaw ticks. “Then you’d better finish what you started, and finish good, or I’ll flip you over and fuck that smart mouth until you forget your own name.”
I hum innocently and stroke him with both hands. “Promises, promises, Sir.”
His growl vibrates through the air. His fingers tighten in my hair. Cruel with intent. “Hands off, knees spread, mouth open,” he snaps, voice all Dom steel. “You want to play, let’s see how well you take cock down your pretty little throat.”
I obey, heart pounding, arousal pooling between my thighs.
My quick compliance makes his belly clench, his eyes flare.
Fist clamped in my hair, he drags me onto his cock. Pushes deep and relentless until I’m fully gagged. Eyes watering and breath gone.
He stays, stays, stays, a growl working up his throat. He releases me with a rough exhale. “Is that what you’re begging for, little brat?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then take it. Again. Hands behind your back. Better yet, hands on that luscious ass. Part yourself. Feel how empty you are as you take me down your throat. Now. Let’s see how cocky you are without them.”
He surges deep. Deeper.
Again. And again.
Until I’m bruised and breathless. A mess of tears and emptiness.
Only then does my Dom release me. Tucks his arms behind his head. “You wanna ride, pet?”
My head is bobbing before I wipe away the drool from his taste. “Please, Sir.”
“Bring that cunt over here then,” he commands, threading his fingers into my hair. “Fucking ride. And don’t stop until I say.”
The power—fleeting and ephemeral—may look like mine, but we both know who’s really in control. His eyes darken, but before he can change his mind, I climb on top and straddle him. No teasing this time—I slide down slow, taking him inch by inch, until I’m seated flush against his hips.
His mouth parts on a breath. “Fuck.”
I ride him hard. Slow. Deep.
My fingers splay across his chest, nails dragging down the perfect lines of muscle. The bed creaks beneath us.
Every step of his Jacob’s Ladder is like climbing into heaven. His cock hits places inside me that make me see stars, but I bite down on my pleasure. Not yet.
I lean over him, lips brushing his. “Can I come whenever I want, Daddy? I promise it’ll be worth it.”
His dick jerks inside me and I want to crow with triumph. I don’t. The tables turn far too easily around here.
He laughs, and it’s husky and low and addictive. And I allow triumph’s dance. “Is that a promise or a threat? For you or for me?”
“Both. All of the a-above!” I yelp when his crown brushes a sublime place, deep inside.
“Come here.” Gruff. Commanding. The kind of tone that strips me bare without even touching me.
I lean in closer, brace my hands against the headboard.
The angle makes his cock even more brutal and delicious. My nipples graze his chest, sparking wildfires filled with electricity.
His cock pistons inside me, his upper half barely moving as his stare commands mine.
God, he’s so fucking good at this.
With clinical fascination he tracks my gasps and jerks. My moans and shivers.
When my thighs shake from the effort of wringing every ounce of energy from his body he grips my hips, guiding my pace even as I tremble, even as my moans start to sound more like sobs.
“Look at me.” His voice cuts through the haze. Sharp. Absolute.
I try. I try to lift my gaze to his, but everything’s too much—his cock buried deep, the ache between my legs, the burn and promise of every orgasm he’s dragged from me like a confession.
“I said, look at me.”
His fingers tighten just enough to make me gasp. “You want your prize, little thief? Then fucking earn it. Come on my cock while holding my eyes. Don’t you dare look away.”
My breath catches. Panic flickers through me.
I’m not sure I can.
Not because I don’t want to—but because everything in me is unraveling. My little game is backfiring. “I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can,” he growls, thrusting up hard. “You’re mine. You take what I give you, and you look me in the eye when I ruin and reward you.”
And just like that, I shatter.
With his name on my lips, tears slipping down my cheeks, and his slate-grey eyes burning straight through me.
We fuck until we’re both dripping sweat, until the sheets are damp and my thighs shake from the effort of wringing every ounce of energy from his body.
And still, I don’t stop.
Because I can’t. Because he won’t let me. Because somewhere between the thrusts and the commands, I stopped being in control.
And now I’m caught in my own game of destruction—bleeding for a man I was supposed to break.