Chapter 21
Finally, Sam thought as Ophelia crushed him to her. Finally, she’s mine.
She’d caught her bottom lip between the crash of their teeth with the ferocity of her kiss, splitting it, and the taste of her blood flooded his senses. His tongue lapped at the injury, desperate to drink down more of her essence.
It had brought him no pleasure to watch the betrayal settle over her, but if it had been what she needed to cut loose from that bastard, then it had been worth it.
He crowded into her as his tongue invaded her mouth, gripping her by the lapel of her coat as he walked her backwards until her back hit the brick wall behind her.
She moaned into his mouth, granting him further access to her.
Her tongue twined with his as she made desperate sounds, her fingers biting into the nape of his neck.
He popped the buttons on her coat with impatient fingers, yanking the stiff fabric aside so he could mold his hands to her waist. They roamed with all the pent-up longing he’d been suffering for days, learning her form as they went.
When he palmed her breasts, she gasped against his lips.
He devoured the sound, kneading her breasts hard, gratified by another hungry sound of approval from her throat.
“More,” she demanded in a hoarse voice.
She grabbed one of his hands and shoved it beneath the hem of her short dress. Her core burned hot in stark contrast to the bitter winter air, warming his fingers as he cupped her through her stockings.
“You’re so hot,” he murmured.
He hadn’t imagined how hot she would be inside. His android partners had been calibrated to a human temperature internally, but it had not been like this. It was as though he could truly feel her burning for him.
She rolled her hips, grinding against him as she bit down on his bottom lip in challenge.
He twisted his fingers in the flimsy fabric of her lace tights and pulled, ripping them with a loud sound that made her jerk back in surprise.
She was panting, every breath a little puff of fog, looking into his eyes as he dragged her panties to the side and sank two fingers into her without preamble.
He savored the broken cry she loosed at the invasion.
She was so soaked for him that the wet sound her body made as he sheathed his fingers was deliciously obscene. And oh, this was nothing like fucking another doll. She was so hot and wet and fluttery within—so vital, so human.
He fingered her lazily, learning her inner walls with languid caresses.
But he stroked her deep—deep enough that she was rocked up onto her toes by the force of it.
Her shoulders pressed against the wall as her hips arched toward him, struggling for balance as she shuffled her legs apart to allow him access to her.
“You are such a good girl,” he told her, nuzzling her ear.
She shuddered, her eyes rolling back as his thumb slid between her labia on his next thrust, slicking over her clit.
“It feels so good, doesn’t it?”
Her lashes fluttered, and her head lolled against the bricks.
“This is what I was made for, you know. I’ll give you this every night if you let me. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
He wasn’t supposed to be able to get hard without manual stimulation, but his cock was pressing painfully against his pants as she looked at him from beneath her dewy lashes, nodding helplessly.
“Use your words, Ophelia.”
“Yes.” It was more a whimper than a word.
“Yes, what?”
“Y-yes, I want you to—” She squeezed her eyes shut, her throat working as she shook her head.
So shy.
He stilled his hand inside her. She cried out a protest, rolling her hips at him, so he withdrew completely. His free hand abandoned her breast to catch her around the throat, pinning her to the bricks to stop her when she tried to reach for him.
“Sam, please.”
He leaned in until their noses brushed. “Please what? I want to hear to you say it.”
She looked pained, as though he was torturing her by asking her to state what she wanted out loud.
“Touch me,” she whined, arching into him.
“You want me to keep fucking you with my fingers?”
She gasped, her struggle to press her hips into him becoming more urgent. “Yes.”
“Say it,” he growled, squeezing her throat.
“Fuck me,” she half-shouted in frustration, clawing at his arm.
He obliged her, rewarded with a sob of relief. Paying more attention to her clit, he watched her with open obsession as she took everything he gave her. Her breath came faster, shallower, and her brows knitted together. Each moan became less breathy, more guttural.
“Are you about to come for me, Ophelia?”
“Yes.” She whimpered. “Please don’t stop. Please, please.”
“I’m not going to stop,” he soothed, pressing a kiss to her sweat-dampened brow. “But I want you to keep begging. I don’t think there’s a more beautiful sound in this world.”
“Please,” she said obediently. “Please, please, plea—”
She came apart hard on a sound that was almost pained, torn deep from her chest. Her eyes rolled back, and her shoulders tensed as she shuddered. He was fascinated by the feeling of her vagina clenching rhythmically around his fingers.
Did she come this hard for Logan?
He grinned down at her.
No. Not a fucking chance. But just in case…
Before the spasms had stopped, he planted his hands on her waist and hauled her off the ground. She squeaked a protest, flailing as he lifted her until her thighs could rest on his shoulders.
“What are you—oh!”
Her back pressed into the wall again as he held her cunt to his mouth, cupping her ass to keep her balanced. One of her hands flailed in the dark, slamming loudly against a dirty drainpipe. She clung to it as his tongue delved into her labia on a long, wandering stroke.
He grinned against her, knowing she was oblivious to what she’d done. Maybe she’d be horrified later, but for now, he luxuriated in the knowledge he’d made her forget her phobias for a moment.
Her free hand sank into his hair, tugging at the roots as she rocked against him, trying to find her own rhythm. He nipped gently at one of her lips, enjoying the way she gasped and stiffened.
“Stay still,” he said harshly before diving back into her.
Her whole body trembled, but she obeyed him.
Oh, he liked her obedience. It wasn’t like controlling the other androids in his performances for the creators.
No, Ophelia had free will. She could disobey him easily, but she chose to bend her will to his.
It was a real mastery, a real submission.
He couldn’t get intoxicated, but he imagined this was what it must feel like—addictive and heady.
He let the full length of his tongue unfurl, enjoying the astonished sound she made as it plunged deeper and deeper. She cracked her head back against the brick when the tip of his tongue traced over her cervix.
“What the fuck,” she cried, fisting her hands in his hair.
He laughed with his tongue still buried in her, and he began to fuck her with it. His thoughts grew hazy as his awareness narrowed to the taste of her. One word cut through all his other processes: mine.
She’s mine. Mine. No one else can have her.
If humanity was right about destiny, there was no doubt she was his.
He’d been made for this, for her. She didn’t know it yet, but this was the end of the road for her.
No one else would know this taste. No one else would ever know the frantic, intimate press of her thighs against their ears as she whimpered for mercy.
He slid his tongue free of the hot clench of her cunt, sliding it all along her sex and swirling it over her little clit.
She babbled incoherently—sentence fragments that ended in whining and panting, punctuated by the tug of her fingers in his hair.
He retracted his tongue back into his throat, flattening the tip against her clit as he looked up at her, meeting her wild eyes.
When his tongue began to vibrate, she started praying.
Yes, he thought as she came apart against his mouth. I am your God now.