Chapter 33 Danica #2
Jesus, his filthy mouth is driving me wild, my core tightening as I gush in anticipation, just waiting for him to impale me on his monster cock. He calls me a whore, but to me, it's music. I'll happily be his whore any fucking day.
I moan wantonly, my head falling back against his chest as my body trembles with the sheer force of my arousal. "Fuck yes," I gasp, my tone sassy and defiant, even in my desperation. "I want you to wreck me, Rhyland."
Rhyland grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back as he lets out a low growl, the vibration reverberating through my entire body. His other hand is clamped onto my hip, fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to leave bruises.
"Careful what you wish for, baby," he warns his voice a low, threatening rumble that makes my toes curl. "You keep talking like that, and I might just lose control and fuck you into oblivion."
And with that, he slams into me, his cock plunging deep into my wet heat with one brutal thrust that has me crying out and my fingers digging into the wood of the barrel. "Fuck!" I gasp, my head falling back as the pleasure-pain of his possession rips through me. "God, yes, more..."
"Yeah?" He pants, his breath hot against my neck. "You want more of my cock? I'll give you more than you can handle, baby." His deep voice has my core clenching around him in anticipation. "You better keep quiet, though—as much as I love hearing you scream for me, we can't get caught."
I get wetter at the thought.
His thumb brushes over my lips, and I nod eagerly, my body thrumming with need. I'm so ready to come again, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside me.
He doesn't wait for my response. His large hand covers my mouth, silencing me as he pounds into me. "That's it, baby, scream into my hand," he grunts, his hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt inside me.
I bite down on his hand, and he hisses, his grip on my hair tightening to the point of pain.
I rake my nails down his arm, marking him as he marks me.
Then his teeth are in my neck, biting down hard as he slams into me.
I scream into his palm, the sound of our flesh meeting obscenely loud in the quiet building.
But I don't care, I am lost in the feeling of him.
His venom floods my system, making my walls flutter and clench around his throbbing cock.
I can feel him twitching inside me, his thrusts becoming erratic as my blood mixes with his venom, pushing us both closer to the edge.
He pulls back from my neck, licking a hot stripe up my throat, sucking hard on the marks he's left as my blood trickles down my chest.
Then he pushes my face down into the barrel, his hand tangling in my hair to hold me in place. "Don't you fucking move," he commands, his voice a rough growl. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight."
I couldn't move if I wanted to. My hair curtains my face, my breasts crushed against the barrel, the wood biting into my sensitive nipples. My entire body quakes with the force of his thrusts, each one hitting that perfect spot inside me that makes me see stars.
He has me completely at his mercy, his body caging me in—his hand grips my hip as he controls every aspect of my pleasure. It's intoxicating, being so thoroughly possessed by him, and I can't help but arch my back, tilting my hips to take him even deeper.
He kicks my legs further apart, changing the angle and making me gasp. I feel every thick inch of him buried inside me, and I can't hold back my cries.
"That's it, baby," he grunts, his voice heavy with lust. "There's my desperate little slut. Take every fucking inch. Scream my name."
I can't even form words—all that's coming out of my mouth are moans and groans, my throat already raw from the noises he's wringing out of me.
But damn, I can't help but smirk and giggle at the thought that here I am, literally getting fucked over a rum barrel on a pirate island.
It's like something straight out of a dirty adventure novel.
"Something amusing, Angel?" Rhyland growls, his voice laced with authority. He thinks I'm giggling because he's not fucking me hard enough to make me lose my damn mind.
As if.
His thrusts become downright brutal, pounding into me, and I forget all about my playful detour and giggles, gasping as he takes me to the edge.
"I don't hear you giggling now." he pants behind me as he ruts into me.
The wet slap of our bodies, the thumping of the barrel against the wall, is obscene.
His heavy balls smack against my clit with every thrust, the pain blending deliciously with the pleasure.
He leans down, biting my shoulder before sucking hard, making me sob.
His hips stutter as I clench around him.
"Bathe me, baby," he growls, his voice rough with need. "I know it's there. I can feel it building."
He's right; my orgasm is coiled tight inside me, a spring waiting to be released.
He's hitting that spot, that sweet spot deep within me that has my walls clenching and my juices flowing like a damn fountain.
That familiar feeling of needing to pee washes over me, and Rhyland senses it, the clever bastard.
He knows me, my body, and when I'm about to combust.
Rhyland slaps my ass hard, the sound reverberating through the small room and making me cry out. He spanks me a second time. The sharp sting is fucking incredible. "Give it to me, Angel," he demands, his voice desperate and harsh.
And I do. I shatter with a muffled scream, my body shaking violently as my release crashes over me.
My cum gushes around his cock, my walls clamping down on him like a vice as he fucks me through it.
I can barely breathe, barely think, as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over me.
I'm lost in the pleasure, feeling of him, of us.
"Fuck yes, that's it," Rhyland growls, his voice strained and guttural. "Good girl. That's what I want."
His thrusts become erratic, his hips jerking as he chases his own release.
I can feel his cock pulsing inside me, growing impossibly harder just before he comes with a primal roar that sends goosebumps across my skin.
He fills me with his hot seed, coating my walls with his essence as he rides out the waves of his orgasm.
Rhyland collapses against me, his breathing coming in erratic huffs. His heart is pounding against my back like he just ran a damn marathon. My mouth feels drier than the Sahara, and I try to swallow, but it's like trying to gulp down sandpaper.
As Rhyland slips out of me, I can feel the evidence of his release trickling down my thighs, a deliciously naughty reminder of our passionate encounter. The sensation of his warm seed painting my skin sends a shiver down my spine, a tangible mark of his claim on my body and soul.
Rhyland falls to his knees behind me and spreads me wide open, "Goddamn, look at that, baby," he murmurs before diving face-first into my cum coated depths, tasting himself and me all at once. It's so fucking filthy and erotic that I can't help but moan into the rough wood beneath me.
I can feel his tongue swirling and plunging into my pussy, lapping, sucking, slurping up our combined juices like he's starving for it.
His moans vibrate through me as he savors every drop, clearly getting off on the taste of us together.
It's so fucking hot that it nearly sends me careening over the edge again.
He yanks me up, fisting his hand in my hair and claiming my lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue plunges into my mouth, ensuring I thoroughly taste our combined flavors. I moan into the kiss, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke, lost in the raw passion that only this man can ignite in me.
He breaks away, "God damn, we taste fucking incredible together."
Rhyland is like a force of nature—raw, primal, and unapologetically alpha. He's a damn animal, and he's all mine.
The sound of slow, sarcastic applause reaches my ears, and Rhyland and I tear our lips away from each other, whirling around to face the source of the interruption.
"Bravo! Encore! That was a performance worthy of a standing ovation," Lucian drawls, with sarcasm. He's lounging in a chair like he's the damn king of the world, acting as if he didn't just get a front-row seat to our X-rated show.
Rhyland quickly tugs up his pants and whips off his shirt, draping it over me in a polite gesture that would be sweet if we weren't both still panting and flushed from our very public romp.
"I mean, the passion, the intensity, the raw animalistic energy.
..I'm getting all tingly just thinking about it," Lucian continues, fanning himself dramatically.
"So, tell me, sweet cheeks. You like it rough, huh?
Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're quite the little firecracker in the sack. " he winks. "Just the thing I'm into."
Rhyland's growl is so low and menacing that it's a wonder Lucian doesn't piss himself on the spot. "You've just signed your fucking death warrant, you son of a bitch," he snarls, and I can feel his rage and possessiveness flooding through our bond like a tidal wave.
My heart is pounding like a jackhammer, and my worry is reaching stratospheric levels. This whole situation is a powder keg waiting to explode, and I'm not sure if I have the strength to be the voice of reason anymore.
"Rhyland…." I warn.
God, please don't kill him.
Please don't kill him.
Lucian, you fucking idiot!
"Oh, come on, Honey Pot! You're breaking my heart here.
I thought we had a real connection, you know?
A bond forged in the heat of the moment, sealed with a little love bite on that delectable neck of yours…
" He clutches his chest dramatically. "The way you let me taste your sweet, sweet nectar—was like a religious experience.
I saw the face of God, and she was wearing your skin. "
Lucian throws his head back, lost in the memory.
"Oh, and let's not forget about the passion of that kiss we shared.
" he closes his eyes as if remembering it.
"Ah, the memories. They'll keep me warm on those cold, lonely nights.
But don't worry, sweet cheeks. I won't tell Tall, Dark, and Growly over there about our little tryst. It'll be our secret. " he winks.
Oh…fuck.
I conveniently forgot to mention the whole lip-locking extravaganza, and now the secret's out like a cat with a jetpack. Lucian might as well start planning his funeral because he's about to become vampire confetti.
Rhyland lunges across the room in a blur of motion, his muscles coiled and ready to strike.
Before Lucian can even blink, Rhyland slams into him with the force of a freight train, sending them both crashing onto a nearby table.
The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air as the table disintegrates beneath their combined weight.
I cringe, my heart leaping into my throat as I scramble to my feet. Darting to the other side of the room, I desperately attempt to distance myself from the chaos.
The situation is spiraling out of control, and I can feel Rhyland's rage coursing through our bond like molten lava, searing and all-consuming.
It's a warpath, pure and simple, and in this moment, I don't think he gives a damn about the fact that Lucian is his brother or the memories they share.
All that matters is the red haze of fury that's taken over his mind.
"Rhyland, stop! Both of you, knock it the fuck off!" I scream, my voice raw and desperate, but it's like trying to reason with a hurricane. They're too far gone, lost in the primal dance of violence and rage.
They clash like titans, trading blows with a speed and ferocity that's almost inhuman.
Ever the agile, Lucian weaves and dodges around Rhyland's massive fists, his movements a blur of motion.
It's a twisted déjà vu, a sickening reminder of their sparring session at WhisperVale, only this time, there's no holding back, no restraint.
The fight drags on, seconds stretching into eternities as they lay waste to everything around them.
Furniture is reduced to kindling, shards of glass and debris littering the floor like the aftermath of a war zone.
The building itself seems to groan and shudder under the onslaught, walls cracking and supports straining.
And then, it happens. A sickening snap echoes through the room like a shattered bone, and my blood runs cold.