Chapter 18 Roxana #2
Sliding his fingers down my thighs towards my hips, he leans over and ploughs into me, his lips meeting mine in a kiss at the same time.
Then he starts fucking me in a way that I know is intended to maximise my pleasure, rutting into me in slow, forceful snaps, angled so that he’s putting all the pressure on my front wall.
His cock is grazing my G-spot slowly and laboriously, as if wading through resistance.
He carries on until I’m arching my back and moaning, his every thrust accompanied by the loud slaps of our flesh and the wet sounds of my arousal.
I bite my lip until I taste blood, and I reach up to run my fingers through his hair, tugging at tufts of it.
“Does that feel good, dark darling?” His palm cups my face.
“Uhhhmm, yes, Daddy, so fucking good.”
I suck on his thumb.
“You look so beautiful falling apart for me,” he rasps and then commands me, “Eyes on the mirror now.”
I obey and tilt my head to the side, locking my eyes with those of my ethereal reflection. Then my sight slides up my arms to my hands on top of his head. And the sensation between my fingers changes from feeling the silky waves of Silas’s hair to something rough and rounded, something solid.
Because in the mirror, I’m holding Sangrel’s horns as he continues bucking his hips against mine, deliberately slow and careful, his features hard set with the effort of restraining himself.
I can see now that he’s not sliding into me in full.
And it is then that I realise the extent to which he’s holding back, when my eyes land on the unsheathed portion of the thick, threatening length between his and my thighs. It is then that I finally ... feel him.
“FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” I grit through my clenched teeth, gripping his horns for support until my knuckles turn white.
I’m filled to the brim and bursting full of the sizzling heat radiating off his cock and sending shock waves through me as he puts pressure on every sensitive spot inside me.
Careful as he is, he’s stretching me impossibly tight, and it feels like just one incautious movement would be enough to split me apart.
And I’m realising that we were both right, because he really could kill me like this, but fuck if it wouldn’t be one hell of a way to go.
Ecstasy is slashing through my nerve endings, obliterating me from the inside out.
I’m melting away around the site of our connection, boneless and shapeless, and unable to move, unable to breathe, bliss raking from my core to my extremities in tingling ripples, and I open my mouth but no sound comes out, and here it is, I’m toppling right over the edge, my lungs are collapsing, my heart is giving out, my eyes roll back, darkness descends and the world around ceases to exist—I cease to exist—and there’s nothing anymore.
No thought or sensation. Nothing but an absolute, all-encompassing pleasure.
When I come to, I’m not looking into the mirror, and so the first thing I see is Silas’s face, ordinarily human except for the eyes. And the first thing I feel is the touch of his left hand, the edge of his wedding band scraping gently over my jaw.
I turn my head and focus with all my might on the looming shadowy figure in the mirror. Soon, I feel the scorching heat of his body again, and I feel the imposition of him still lodged deeply in my core, his cock throbbing with unyielding need against my battered cervix.
Seeing that I’m ready, Sangrel readies himself for a thrust, pulling out of me to the tip, further stretching the already tight edges of my entrance.
“From behind!” I cut in before he drives back into me. “I want you from behind. I want to see your face in the mirror when you flood me on the inside.”
With a silent nod, he helps me get up and lower myself on all fours facing the mirror, the depression of my spine deepening as I curve my back to raise my ass high up in the air.
“This will probably hurt,” he warns me before he aligns his cock with my pussy and starts pushing into me slowly.
He is not wrong. It was one thing to feel the shift to his true form with him already inside me, but it is another to have him breach me like this.
I whimper, and I hiss, and then I press my face down onto the satin covers. I bite into the fabric to stifle my cat-like wails. I adjust somehow once he’s as deep as he can go, only for the struggle to resume with his thrusts, less cautious than before.
Their impact is merciless.
His demon skin is rougher than its human counterpart, and the backs of my thighs are getting rubbed raw with each loud, ruthless slap of his hips.
He’s dislodging my organs and shoving them out of the way like they mean nothing to him.
I don’t think I’ll have any cervix left by the time he’s done ramming into it like a hammer.
But what pain he’s causing me is generously balanced with violent pleasure tearing from my G-spot, numbing me to all other sensations, another orgasm already coursing through me, and then another almost immediately after, like a phoenix rising from its own ashes.
I convulse madly with undying euphoria boiling through my veins and barely register it when he throws his head back with a roar, his taloned fingers digging into the flesh on my hips until he draws blood as he jerks with his own climax.
My centre is burning with his seed, its red essence flowing out of me and swirling all around us, mixing with the wisps of dark smoke rising continuously off his body. Its sting snaps me out of my high before Sangrel fully descends from his, and this gives me time to act.
Too bad we’ll never be able to do this again, I think a little sadly to myself, my eyes lingering on his horns, his large hands, the harsh gash of his mouth containing that miraculous tongue.
I could have snuck into his office at work and done this in secret. But when I said I wanted to see his face, I mostly meant that I wanted to see it when I cage him, taking away his portal, his easy escape.
I want to savour the look in his eyes when he realises that he fucked up.
That I know he will not hurt me more than I can handle because Silas could never consciously harm me.
Weak men only ever do damage to others while steadfastly convinced they’re being good.
There is no stamina in Silas’s soul to be deliberately evil.
Which means that from now on, Sangrel and I will be playing by my rules.
“That was really nice, Daddy,” I say sweetly. “But now it’s time to earn some spanking.”
Reaching forward, I close my fingers around the mirror’s frame, and I yank it to the ground, where its fragile, old glass shatters into a dozen sharp pieces.