Chapter 37 Maddox #2
Every exhale is breathy and strained, and I take that as the perfect time to change tactics, brushing over her weeping center each time I make it back to the top.
I run my knuckles over her clit three times, then back down to her calves.
When she—I—grow more desperate, I trace the line of her underwear, edging beneath the saturated fabric in a cruel tease.
If I don’t sink inside of her soon, I’m going to lose my mind.
Her panties are completely soaked. She’s hiccuping and pushing her hips against my fingers every time I come near her sex. Reyna could put us both out of our misery by saying one measly word. Yet here we are, both paying the price for her stubbornness.
The next slap comes out the hardest. She screams, breathing roughly through her nose.
I push her panties to the side to finally see what her pussy is doing for me.
I tsk, brushing the tip of my finger over her swollen flesh, and she bucks. Oh the poor thing is fucking dripping.
She whimpers as I knead her ass to undo all the hurt, only to bring it back, absolutely, utterly bloody mesmerized by the moisture seeping from her cunt and down her inner thighs.
My hand collides with her flesh four more times, alternating between each cheek before she finally says the two simple words I want to hear.
“I’m sorry,” she cries, shaking like a leaf.
I lean over and pull her head back to see her delicate face. “Good girl,” I praise, getting hit with another wave of desire when her lips part on a silent moan. “Now say, I’m sorry, Mr. Shaw. I won’t do it again.”
Her eyes snap open as she tries to twist around to look at me. It’s thrilling watching her anger dissipate the second I slip a finger inside her. Three strokes is all she gets before I withdraw, and her anger returns tenfold. Reyna gnashes her teeth and fruitlessly attempts to throw me off.
So I do it again.
Her anger washes away, then comes right back with a vengeance. Over and over, I bring her closer to the edge only to leave her vibrating with rage.
“Fuck you,” she snarls when I pull my fingers out again.
“Say it.”
“Maddox.”
She begs so pretty.
“Say it.” I rub her clit through her panties, and she thrashes against my grip in her hair.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Shaw. I won’t call you an asshole again.” She enunciates the word.
I smile down at her.
That’s my girl.
I let go of Reyna and take several steps back. She frowns, pauses for a moment, hands still bound together in front of her, then whips her head toward me, otherwise staying exactly where I left her. “What the fuck?”
I grin, nodding at the object on the corner of the table. “Turn the camera on, love.”
Her forehead wrinkles in confusion, remaining in place. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
I turn and grab one of my biggest canvases off the rack without waiting to see if she follows instructions. I can hear her hesitation seconds before she releases a dramatic huff and stomps to do as I said, muttering, “Asshole,” under her breath as she manages to undo the belt without my help.
Sexually frustrated Reyna is cute. Maybe I’ll punish her again for her attitude.
I position the canvas on the wall across from the table. I prepped it weeks ago with today in mind. “Set the tripod up over there and make sure this is in frame.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “You’re seriously going to paint right now?”
“Miss Sinaga,” I warn. “Do you need another lesson in manners so soon?”
Her eyes narrow at me, yet she does what she’s told.
She preps her medium, while I prep mine, using the palette knife to scrape onto the canvas the scarlet, sage green, chocolate brown, and cherry pink paints I made last night.
Once all the colors are positioned in splotches on the canvas, I turn to find her waiting next to the camera.
“Take your clothes off.”
Reyna wets her lips before wiggling her underwear down her legs in a slow tease. Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly get any harder, her dress and bra drop to the floor, and she stands without a thread to hide her from me.
I smile to myself when I catch sight of all the bright-pink handprints covering her ass. I should start putting them there more often.
“Come here. Make sure the tape is running.”
Panic crosses Reyna’s eyes. “But I don’t have any clothes on.”
“Come. Here.”
She chews her lip in indecision before padding across the room. Softly placing a hand on her shoulder, I turn her so the camera captures every inch of her divine body.
If anyone comes across this video, I will gouge their eyes out of their skull and feed it to them. No one but me will ever get to see her like this.
A sharp inhale is the only reaction I get when I grab her hair off her shoulders to pile it up in a tight bun using the hair tie I stole from her room in the dead of night.
I lower my lips to the smooth expanse of skin, kissing a trail from behind her ear down to the tip of her shoulder. She’s bloody intoxicating.
A sound that’s more beast than man rumbles from my chest when I curve my hand around her waist to coat my fingers in her wetness.
“Please, Maddox,” she mewls, wiggling to fit my bulge against her ass.
My fingers curl around her throat to tip her head back, and I lower my lips against the shell of her ear. “I called you here to capture the process of creating art. Put your hands on the canvas so I can create.”
I let go of her, stepping away so she can move on her own terms. Reyna glances at the canvas skeptically. “Do I have to touch oil paint?” She grimaces.
“It’s acrylic.” The word tastes like dirt. “Just for you.”
Taking a deep breath, she settles her hands on the canvas.
Her pussy quivers with anticipation as I stand back to unbutton my top and remove my pants, and underwear.
My cock springs free, swollen and leaking from all the teasing.
Edging closer, I run my cock up her slit.
It’s complete fucking torture. It takes every ounce of my fraying self-restraint to stop myself from burying inside her straightaway.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to fuck you. You’re going to scream. And you’re going to be a good, good girl for me and say my name when you come.” My voice is nothing more than a strained rasp. “Now say, Yes, Mr. Shaw.”
She jolts when I spank her once more, spreading the paint. “Yes, Mr. Shaw,” she moans.
The thread holding me back snaps, and I sink into her, completely un-fucking-bidden. She takes me right to the very root, and I just about black out. Bloody heavenly.
She moves onto her forearm while the other hand slides across the paint, creating great big arcs and short, sharp strokes as she takes all of me.
I thrust into her gently, and so torturously slow, kissing each vertebra because she deserves tenderness.
To be treated like she’s a precious artifact.
A treasure to be worshipped. She needs to know that I’m a demon in disguise, but I would never do anything to harm her.
If she isn’t here, I’ll cease to exist. I would search for her in every life, because nothing holds meaning without her there.
No.
I can’t do it like this.
I need to see her.
Reyna cries out when I withdraw from her and spin her around.
My lips crash into hers, swallowing her gasp and plastering her back against the paint as I wrap her legs around my hips.
I’m slamming into her before she gets a chance to recover, fucking her like she was handpicked by the divine to be my own undoing.
My hands roam over her body, from her waist to her tits, to the column of her throat, then to her paint-stained hair.
Reyna latches onto my opened shirt like she’s incapable of letting go.
“Maddox, I—” She claws at me, slapping the canvas behind her before gripping me, smearing paint all over the both of us. Her teeth sink into my lips, drawing blood.
“Do you know how hard it’s been not to drag you into my office every day and fuck you into the couch until you become nonverbal?”
Her answer is a jumbled compilation of incoherent words, choked by hiccuped moans against my lips. Her brown eyes glaze over, seeing me, yet completely unfocused. Lost, and like the only thing she knows is how it feels to be consumed by me.
I want every part of her. Even the parts she isn’t ready to give or thinks I don’t want. My life consists of her, and only her. Dying would mean nothing to me as long as I burn in hell with the taste of her still on my tongue.
My thrusts turn relentless. Her tightening pussy has spots clouding my vision.
She’s strangling my cock tight enough to feel like it might break.
Nothing is as enrapturing as watching her let go.
She quivers and shakes, chanting my name like I’m the only thing that exists in her mind.
I can feel her climax in my bloody soul.
And I have it all on camera.
The canvas creaks as I continue, never giving her a second to come down from her high. She isn’t just art; she is a goddess, perched on the altar for me to sacrifice myself in the name of worship.
“My devotion to you has turned me deadly,” I whisper, even though she’s too lost to hear me.
My lips meet hers so she can taste the damage she’s done to me. I want to be an irrevocable part of her. I want her to always have a part of me, and know there isn’t a second that goes by where she isn’t at the forefront of my mind.
Love isn’t strong enough for what I’m feeling. It’s the maddest kind of obsession that turns a man insane.
Reyna’s hand skates beneath my top, smearing wet paint across my waist as she reaches for my back. I capture her wrist and hold it above her head before I can ruin this moment. I shouldn’t have unbound her hands.
“Take your top off,” she moans, staring up at me with her deep-brown eyes that I picture before I fall asleep.
I shake my head. I’ll do anything she wants, except that. I won’t let anything ruin what’s between us.
“Please.” She tugs the collar.
I never would have thought someone could have so much control over me.