33. Bastian #2
I’ve ruined her for guys her own age. Their clumsy, inexperienced hands, their quick-draw cocks. No one her age could tease her like this without coming in their pants. Could taunt her this mercilessly without being compelled to stick their dick inside her and come seconds later.
When I flatten my tongue against her clit, a helpless little cry spills past her lips. Arousal vibrates somewhere low behind my ribs at the pathetic sound.
Her clit swells beautifully under my tongue, pink and needy and tangy with want.
I pull back only to press my tongue lower, thrusting into her entrance where the heat is fiercest. Her slit weeps blood for my tongue as I flick my way in and out of her pussy.
Instead of recoiling, I lap at her, nose buried against her flesh like I want to drown.
“That’s it, girl. Clench around my tongue like the eager slut you are.”
I eat like a starved man, savoring every ounce of her sweetness, and she just lies there, watching through her lashes, unable to stop me as I use her limp body for my every filthy need.
This is sin by inches. A slow rot down my spine.
Every one of her weak shivers, every mewled protest, just spurs me on.
I should have walked out the moment I found her breathing. Should’ve let her sleep it off.
Instead, I’m dragging her deeper into the dark with me.
She’s shaking, confused, bleeding in my mouth, and still her body betrays her, heating around my fingers like it was waiting for this.
And God help me, I want to see how far that betrayal will go.
I push two fingers inside her entrance, just enough to breach.
“I’m going to wreck your pretty little cunt,” I murmur, locking eyes with her as I dip my fingertips inside her. “And tomorrow, you’ll put on a sweet smile like nothing happened. We both know just how much you enjoy this.”
The sound she makes at the intrusion is high and helpless, a half-moan, half-sob. Her lids flutter, too heavy to fully open, yet her body betrays her again. Her pussy clenches down, sucking me deeper in like she doesn’t know how to refuse.
Haven thinks she’s a locked door, but my fingertips are the key. The shiver running through her as I press deeper inside is the tumbling of pins inside the lock.
I don’t drive my fingers in.
Not yet.
I wedge them wider instead, pulling them apart by gradual, merciless degrees, splitting her open against her own resistance. Watching the raw stretch of her pussy, the stubborn give.
“Oh, you don’t like this? Then why the fuck are you dripping down my hand? You’re lying with your mouth and begging with your cunt.”
Her thighs tremble weakly against my shoulders as I force them wider, the soft, pale skin so fucking fragile under my teeth. I sink in just enough to bruise, biting her tender flesh until red blooms like a brand.
Haven whimpers.
Her legs twitch.
She should be closing against me, knocking the intrusion away, but she can’t. That sound isn’t only pain. There’s something else in it. Something hungry she hasn’t learned to hide.
“So fucking innocent. Pure and untouched. Let’s fix that, shall we?”
I hold her open, studying every quiver her body makes, and then lean over her as I let saliva gather in my mouth.
Her mouth quivers as she watches, a blubbered, “N-no,” spilling out.
But I don’t have a choice.
I need her dirty, filthy, obscene like me.
I spit deep inside her bloody, stretched open pussy, and have to fight the urge to come at the sound she makes—half horrified moan, half desperate mewl.
Her whole body flinches. A shudder ripples through her limp frame, but still her hips rock just enough to prove there’s something wanton lurking beneath the shame.
“That’s it, girl. Swallow down my filth.”
Her eyes squeeze closed, and a sound she shouldn’t be making leaks past her bitten lip.
The body tells the truth.
Her body knows who it belongs to.
I tighten my spread, stretch her wider, watch her quiver at the pressure, knowing the moment I let her tighten down around my cock, she’ll unravel completely.
“Christ, you’re so fucking needy.” I draw back, showing her my fingers glistening with blood and saliva and arousal. “Look how you’re gushing for me like a wounded thing.”
I bring my hand down in a stinging slap right on her clit. Her limp body jerks faintly, flesh jiggling under my palm. She mewls in protest, but a violent twitch betrays just how much she craves my abuse, even under sedation.
I duck down for a last lick, a quick thrust with my tongue, and then I’m crouched over her still body like a nightmare as she struggles to focus on my eyes.
I lower my face to hers before she can attempt another breathy protest, and press my mouth down on her slack, trembling lips.
It isn’t tenderness.
It’s theft.
My tongue invaded her mouth the way my fingers just invaded her pussy. I taste myself smeared on her lips—spit and salt and blood—and force it back down her throat.
For a heartbeat she goes rigid, caught between refusal and shock, but the sound she makes when I suck her lower lip into my teeth is such a pathetic confession.
A whimper, raw and unwilling, a sound she can never take back.
By the time she drags in another sob of air, I’ve left my mark on her mouth as surely as I’ve left it inside her pussy.