Chapter 21 #3
His flames devour my body from the inside out, leaving me panting and seething and burning. I’m melting into him, and I can no longer tell where he ends and I begin.
His mouth is inches from mine as he says, “Killing me won’t make you whole again, darling. You’ll spend a lifetime searching for your broken pieces, but you’ll never find them all without me.”
I shake my head, vehemently denying his words. I refuse to believe them.
His voice drops into a deep, rough timbre. “The only time you feel complete is when I’m inside you.”
A distressed whimper leaks from my throat. “Not true,” I say, the words trembling.
“No? Let’s test it then.”
He whips us around and pushes me onto the bed. I land with an embarrassing squeal, but he’s on me before I can collect myself.
However, nothing prevents me from getting angry. I ball my fist and send it flying into his shoulder as he climbs over me. Our bodies move in sync. As I try to drag myself out from beneath him, he follows, pinning my hips down once I reach the middle of the bed.
I growl and kick at him, except I’m only angry with myself for helping him rather than successfully escaping.
“I’ve been thinking so hard about how to punish you,” he bites out as he reaches above me to grab the black backpack he left there.
I freeze as he unzips it open, both terrified of what he’s going to pull out yet needing to see. It’s like watching a fucking shark charge straight toward you. It’s horrifying, yet I need to watch so I know exactly when to brace for the pain.
“And it’s so fitting you do exactly what you always fucking do and try to run away. But I know the truth. I know you feel what I do when I'm inside you.”
I sputter at him. Clearly, the man has lost the plot, because that almost sounded like a confession of real feelings, and that’s just fucking insane.
“You sound crazy right now,” I say seriously, right as he reaches into the bag and pulls out an object that immediately has my eyes widening in horror.
“Oh my fucking God, Dread. Why the hell do you have a Fleshlight?” The question comes out more like a screech, but mostly because that was… that was the last fucking thing I was expecting.
He tosses it on the bed beside me. I get so caught up in staring at it like it’s a goddamn python that when I finally drag my attention back to Dread, I’m struck over the head with shock again.
He’s shirtless and just finished putting the cap backward on his head again, though my brain is stuck trying to compute the expanse of chiseled, tattooed body.
More specifically, his defined chest leading past his sculpted abs and to a very prominent V, which frames the thin happy trail disappearing into the waistband of his joggers.
Him keeping his hat on proves he’s very aware of how insanely attractive it is, and paired with his scarred brow and the silver hoops in his nose and ears…
“You look like a fucking slut, Dread.”
He pauses, shock flitting across his expression before he laughs, and ohmyfuckinggod, that made it so much worse.
The deep divots stemming from the corners of his eyes and the fucking dimples on his upper cheeks—I can’t.
I just… cannot do this anymore.
I’m on the verge of spontaneous combustion, and frankly, being the first real case in history is not the legacy I want to create for myself.
I use my elbows to drag myself out from beneath him again, needing to get the hell out of here, but he quickly grabs my hips and tugs me back down.
I gasp, stiffening in his hold as he roughly grips the waistband of my sweats and yanks them down my legs, taking my underwear with them.
My eyes widen. “No, no, absolutely not,” I rush out, desperately trying to pull them back up.
It’s embarrassing how easily he overpowers me, even more embarrassing when my legs just randomly stop functioning, allowing him to slide them off without so much as a toe wiggle.
Fucker.
Though, at this point, I don’t know who I’m directing the insult at—him or me.
A nervous sweat blooms across my nape, and my racing heart swan dives straight into my stomach the moment he crawls back over me.
Only then does my body finally remember I'm supposed to be halfway out the door by now. I go to turn over onto my knees this time, hoping I’ll make progress that way, but I’m quickly proven wrong when he grabs my hips and twists me back around with an impatient growl.
In a matter of seconds, limbs fly, and though I try to resist whatever he’s doing, he moves too fast, too smoothly.
Before I can process a single fucking thing, his hips are between my spread thighs, both wrists pinned above my head in one of his hands while the other shoves up my T-shirt, exposing my bare breasts.
“Dread!” I growl, my frustration mounting.
What the fuck is he, a vampire? I don't know how else he could've moved so goddamn fast. He only deepens my concerning theory when his teeth clamp around my hard nipple.
The sharp pain wrenches a yelp from my throat, my spine flying into an arch, goosebumps scattering across my skin from the heady mix of pleasure and pain.
“Dread!” This time, his name sounds more like a hoarse moan than an admonishment.
Excitement blooms in my stomach, and I have no control over the shuddering exhale that follows or the way my eyes flutter as his tongue soothes the sting.
It’s absolutely pitiful how easily I give in to him. I loathe it, yet my legs hook around his hips before I roll against his hard length nestled against my center. I'm just as much at war with myself as I am the pain and pleasure fighting for my attention.
He pulls away with a pop and sits up straight on his knees.
I settle flat on the bed again and hastily scrape my wits back into a neat little pile so I can get my shit together and kick him in the mouth before I run for my life.
Unfortunately, while I’m doing that, he quickly steps off the bed and toes off his shoes before removing his socks, sweatpants, and briefs.
Two seconds in, I freeze and my mind goes blank, completely forgetting what I was supposed to be doing. His hard cock has commanded my attention, and though it’s my third time seeing it, it still instills wariness in my bones.
He’s back on the bed and arranged between my thighs before I even blink again. Only then do I finally remember I'm supposed to be running—until he grabs the Fleshlight and lays it on my pelvis, effectively swiping an arm across my wit pile and sending it all flying again.
My mouth parts in confusion when he fixes the opening of the toy directly above my entrance. I frown, preparing to ask him what the hell he’s doing, but his fingers swiping up through my slit has a gasp shouldering past the words and rushing out instead.
“Dread,” I snap breathlessly.
“Jesus, Rev. You're so fucking sloppy,” he scolds, his tone sharp. It's like turning on the burner to a stove, and my entire face instantly becomes inflamed. “You're already close to soaking the bedsheets, and I've barely touched you.”
I inhale sharply when the tip of his middle finger lightly brushes across my clit, little zings of pleasure shooting through me.
“Fuck you,” I hiss. “I could cough on your dick, and it'd make you come.”
He chuckles wickedly, not appearing offended in the slightest. Then, his finger presses into my clit harder, and I jolt against him from the sharp pleasure shooting through me.
“You give yourself so little credit, darling,” he purrs. “The mere thought of you is all it takes. You don't even need to be in the same room to make me moan your name.”
My throat tightens, and I swear, him so readily agreeing with me is some reverse psychology shit. He has no goddamn shame, and somehow, him admitting to the power I wield makes me feel utterly powerless.
He could at least have the decency to deny it.
“I know how empty you are without me filling you,” he continues quietly. “I know how you ache for it.”
“No,” I deny. My lips part on a shuddering inhale when he applies a little more pressure on my clit, gently circling it until I’m unsure if the flashing electricity is in the air or in my vision.
I possess no control over the way my hips roll into his touch, desperately seeking more. To my frustration, he evades me, retreating from my clit and sliding his finger down my drenched slit again.
My heavy pants quickly bleed into breathless moans as he teases my entrance. Wet, sticky noises fill the air, only proving what a liar I am.
I push into his hand, needing to feel him inside me, but once again, he rolls with the movement, keeping his touch light.
“Dread,” I whimper, staring up at him pleadingly.
He bites his bottom lip, picking apart every microexpression on my face as he pulls his hand away to lean on one fist next to my hip. Then, he uses the tip of his cock to tease my clit, softly circling it again.
“Kellan, please,” I whine, attempting to grind into him again.
“You think you can live without this? Without me?” he asks, ignoring my pleas.
I groan, desperate to reject him, but it’s almost impossible when I feel like I’m missing a vital piece of myself and the only way to get it back is through him.
“No,” I say, my voice small.
“Good,” he whispers, rubbing me firmly until my eyes roll. He stops all too soon, and my clit throbs painfully from the loss.
“Kell—” My frustrated growl morphs into a startled scream when he leans forward and sinks his cock inside me, making it less than halfway before he meets resistance.
I barely process the burn before he retreats to the tip and drives in again, this time making it to the hilt and ripping another yelp from my throat. The lightning storm of pleasure and pain sends my spine bowing off the bed, and my ankles hook around him, locking him in place.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan, my brows knitting when he presses his pelvis into my clit and grinds his hips against me in deliberate circles.
“Feel that, baby? How good it is when I stuff your pussy?”