Chapter 7
Adora
For a second, just one second, neither of us moves.
Then we crash together, violent, feral and addictive, like we were never apart.
There is no hesitation. No soft reunion. No fucking mercy.
He grabs, bites and devours like he's been starving for me, for every fucking inch of my body. I feel his teeth sink into my lower lip, his growl vibrating through my skin, deep and uncontrolled. The sound travels straight through me, pooling between my thighs, burning me from the inside out.
His hands clamp around my thighs, hoisting me up, forcing my legs around his waist. I feel him everywhere. His scent. His heat. His need. Like he's swallowing me whole. And I fucking love it.
I clutch his shoulders, nails digging in, as he pins me against the wall, the cement scraping my back. I want this moment to last forever. I want him to ruin me like this until I don't remember anything but the way he feels between my legs.
His breath fans over my throat, scorching, possessive. I feel his muscles flex beneath my hands, tight with restraint, with fury, with something even more dangerous.
He drags my hoodie up, exposing my bare skin, revealing my breasts.
For just a second, he stops. It’s a long, agonizing second where he just looks. His gaze locks on my chest, on my exposed skin. Something flashes across his face, like he's been dreaming of this for too long, and now he can’t believe it’s real.
His hand leaves my thigh, slowly, purposefully. Trailing from my navel, up, up. Between my breasts, over my sensitive skin, barely a touch. Up to my throat. He grips it, tight enough to make me feel his restraint, to let me know that he's planning to wreck me.
His eyes find mine, dark and dangerous. Some kind of understanding passes between us. Like a contract. Signed in blood, sweat, and whatever's left of our fucking sanity.
The moment shatters and he pounces. I gasp. I moan and make sounds I haven't let escape my lips since the last time he was inside me.
He enters me in one brutal, claiming thrust. My eyes snap open, my back arches, my fingers claw into his skin. The sting is delicious. The stretch. The fullness. The overwhelming fucking sensation of feeling him inside me again.
His lips leave mine just enough to growl the words against my ear, "Take it, Adora. Take everything I give you. All of it."
He starts moving, wrecking me all over again, slamming into me with brutal thrusts. He's touching every spot inside me like he never forgot. Like his body remembers mine just as well as I remember his. And fuck, I won't last long.
But I can feel it's the same for him. He's losing control, losing himself inside me. His skin burns against mine, our sweat mixing, our bodies moving like they were built for this.
He reaches between us, and finds my clit. His thumb presses down, moving in fast, devastating circles. Fuck. He remembers. He remembers exactly how I like it. Exactly how he can make me lose my mind.
His rhythm doesn't falter. He doesn't fucking stop. The orgasm is already there, crawling under my skin, coiling in my spine, burning, ready to explode.
With one flick of his thumb, I shatter. I scream, coming apart around him, my nails raking down his back, drawing blood.
He groans, low, deep and wrecked, and a second later, his body shudders.
He's silent when he spills inside me, but his body screams for him.
His arms lock around me, holding me so fucking tight it hurts. Like he's afraid to let go. Like he knows the second this moment ends, we both have to face what the fuck we just did.
I tip my head back against the wall, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, my heart still racing, my body still pulsing.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin.
We don't speak.
I don't know how much time passes, but it can't be more than a minute before I feel the shift in him. His body goes rigid, muscles coiling tight, fingers digging into my thighs hard enough to leave their shape behind.
Suddenly, he's on the move, taking me with him.
The world tilts, blurs, spins away into nothing. The cell disappears behind us, a forgotten nightmare swallowed by the force of his need, my surrender and the raw, burning hunger still clinging to our skin.
There's a hallway, long and empty, stretching forever, and then blinding, overwhelming light.
Before I can piece together where the fuck we are or what the fuck is happening, I'm inside a house, my mind still dazed, soaked in the aftermath of him.
I should speak. Should demand answers. But the post-orgasmic haze is too thick, too intoxicating, wrapping me in something warm and slow.
He doesn't give me time to think. Before I can grasp a single coherent thought, he sets me down inside a massive walk-in shower, the cold tiles shocking against my bare feet.
I blink. The hoodie is gone. Torn from my body, discarded, a casualty of his urgency. I don't know when he did it.
I barely have a second to take in my surroundings before his fingers are on my chin, tilting my head up, forcing me to meet his gaze.
And fuck, his eyes. They're darker than I've ever seen them. Abyssal. Consuming. Like a wolf staring down a lamb, already tasting the blood in its mouth.
My lips part on a shiver, a silent plea wrapped in air. I should be afraid. I should want to run. My brain should scream "danger!", but my pussy takes the lead and spasms.
His voice is a weapon, smooth and lethal when he speaks.
"Time for a shower, Adora."
His lips curve into a slow, devastating, evil fucking smile.
"I'm eating that pussy. Now."
My entire body reacts to his demand. There’s a throb between my legs, a pulse of need, of hunger, of "fuck, yes!" My pussy answers for me again, clenching around nothing, screaming "come and get it, big boy." I'm sick. I don't give a fuck.
I nod. Silent and breathless, wide-eyed and fucking desperate.
His smirk deepens, his control snapping thread by thread.
Steaming hot water cascades down my body, soaking my skin, washing away the sweat, the scent of the dungeon, but not the scent of him.
His hands are everywhere. Cleaning. Worshipping. Fast, desperate, as if his patience had already been reduced to embers but now it’s nothing but ash.
My back is to him when I feel it. Two fingers, sliding inside me from behind, curling up. A jolt of pleasure passes through me so fast that my legs nearly give out.
A squeak escapes before I can stop it.
I feel him lean in, his chest brushing my back, his hand pressing against the wall beside my head, trapping me. His breath hits my ear, hot and dripping with sin.
"I'm going to ruin this pussy," he murmurs, voice gravel and smoke. "Make you feel me for weeks."
My entire body vibrates in anticipation. I know what he can do with that filthy mouth of his. I remember, and I know he speaks the truth. Because he ruined me once before and it lasted for years, not just weeks.
In one fluid motion, he spins me around.
I don't have time to think or breathe before his hands grip my thighs, hoist me up — higher, higher — until my legs are around his shoulders, my back pressed to the wall.
I'm so fucking high up I could touch the ceiling if I stretched my arms. But I don't, I clutch his hair instead, desperate and needing.
He lets out a satisfied, low growl, his hot breath fanning over my pussy, making me shiver.
I’m taken by surprise when he presses a featherlight kiss to the inside of my thigh. Soft, like a whisper. Like a fucking reminder. He always used to do that. I forgot. How could I forget?
I don’t have time to overthink it.
The first swipe of his tongue is slow, deliberate. A tease. From my entrance to my clit, long and lazy, like he's savoring me.
But it doesn't last. The first taste is for control, the rest is pure fucking destruction.
He devours me. Sucking, tasting, biting. Like I'm his first fucking meal in years. He works me over with a perfect mix of cruelty and indulgence while I moan and scream, losing my fucking mind.
I feel two thick fingers pushing inside, curling and stroking, playing me like an instrument he mastered a long time ago.
He drags me to the edge and back, again and again, toying with me, until my body doesn't belong to me anymore.
Until it's his. Until he's ripping me apart, making me beg without words, making me feel so many fucking things all at once.
I try to move, to fuck his face, to find my release. He doesn’t let me. With a growl, he sucks my clit hard and nips it, making me freeze. His grip on my thighs tightens and he begins his torment again, just the way he likes it.
And when he’s finally satisfied with the mess he turned me into, I feel the tip of his tongue, focused and deadly. Flicking my clit over and over again, until I shatter. Explode into a million fucking pieces.
My body locks, my legs shake, and I scream, voice breaking, fucking destroyed. But he doesn't stop. Not until I am nothing.
When he finally lets me down, my legs give out beneath me. Weak. Completely useless.
I collapse to my knees, my body wrecked, my mind fogged from the orgasm that just ripped through me. Right in front of his hard cock. A masterpiece of sin.
I tilt my head back, meeting his gaze, searching for permission. Or maybe I just want to see if he'll deny me.
He stands above me, watching like a king from his throne, one eyebrow raised in question, head tilted in challenge.
The choice is mine.
I know it.
He knows it.
And I make it.
Because life is too fucking short and tomorrow is never promised. I could die before I ever get to taste him again.
So I reach out and grab life by the balls. Ghost's balls, actually. That's exactly where my hand goes first. I wrap my fingers around the thick, heavy weight of them, squeezing just enough to make his smirk twitch.
His breath catches, his cock twitches in response, and fuck, I love that I can do this to him.