My voice quietens as I remove the growl from it and try to calm down, but all the old sensations began flooding me, heightening this fucking mood and pushing me onwards. It fills me with a soundlessness I’ve not had for so long. And as my fingers crush at her skin, my body leaning her forward and my tongue licking across her face, I know she’s what I want and finally accept it. “Just ask me for it,” I whisper, scraping my teeth across her jaw and moving her wrists into one hand. “Stop fighting yourself and let me show you what you are.”
She shakes her head, her body beginning to struggle against me again. It makes me smile and let my mouth caress her skin, pulling in long cleansing breaths as I make my way around the back of her head and trail her spine with my fingertips. It’s the last chance I’ll give her to comply willingly. I knew it wouldn’t work anyway and barely care anymore. She just needs pushing, forcing as all brats do. Less talk, more action. And for once in all this time with her I just let go, let the inside of myself free and slowly push into my trousers to get my cock out without any more thought.
It rages in my hand, heat spreading through it as I groan at my own touch and tighten my grip on her wrists. Fuck, she smells so good, the heat of her rising beneath me, her body still snaking around.
“Don’t you—” she spits out, her body trying to spin as she lowers her ass from my view.
“Too late, pretty thing,” Delaney says, cutting her off mid-sentence.
It’s the last I hear from either of them. It all becomes about the precious cunt in front of me, the air around me, the sight of her skin panting and the frustration flowing through it. Her ribs pitch and spiral, the perfect surface of them unblemished and so far unmarred. They won’t be soon. They’ll be scarred with the first indent of my wrath with no real fucking care to the outcome.
My cock aches as I pull it a few times and watch her thrash, then easily transfer my hand’s hold to the back of her neck to push her downwards again. The move causes her to shriek and reach for anything she can find to help her escape, but there’s nothing there to find, nothing but the cock I’m about to give her to hold onto. It’s what she’ll learn to lean on. The only thing she’ll have. It’s the support she needs even if she doesn’t know it yet. It makes me grip harder, forcing the fact, to the point of her bellowing out in pain as I feel the crunch of sinew beneath my hand and scrunch her cheek into the floor.
“Can you smell yourself?” I ask, levering the tip of my cock at her and slowly drawing it though the slick opening on offer. Tremors ride through me, tensing the constricting grip on her further and damn near sending me into my own fever of attack. Veins pulse, the ache sending me into desperation to get in and fuck ‘til she bleeds. “How much will you take?” She bucks away from me slightly, trying to close her legs, yet still offering her ass with little real objection. I lean down, prolonging the zeal and drawing my tongue, this time, through the same dripping surface, only to continue to the pucker of her ass, too. The taste of her explodes in my mouth as I push at it, widening it and causing a moan to sound from her lips. Good, I’ll fuck her there, too, in time, but not now. Instead, I trail upwards again, roaming my taste-buds across her skin, embedding the scent of her into my mouth and imprinting it in my mind. She’s so new, so fresh, like an elixir of ramifications and accountability I neither want nor am able to tear myself from. Mine. Something to bind against again. Someone to rent myself on. Someone who will comfort the passion and take it into herself with fervour and demand. A new beginning, perhaps sent to nullify the past.
The first inch in as I nudge at her is breath-taking, a violent eruption of colour splitting the blackness in my mind to arcs of reds and blacks. Her hair is flung back towards me as I sink in further, her head gaining purchase as my hand weakens a touch, sending an array of purple hues to mingle with the brightness. I groan, sensing her body clamp tighter and try to keep me out. It only spurs me on, forging forward again and leaning over her for when the screams grow louder. Small friction, at first only gently pulsing back and forth, not daring the full penetration for fear it will end. But I’m so desperate for the release, and my hands can’t stop but gain more hold. They grasp at skin as I shove her shoulders to the floor, my body smothering hers in the same moment and sending her flat to the cold stone. I wind my hand around her stomach, lifting her frame into mine as I push in again and feel the oncoming sense of relief. She’s so soft. So wet. Already dripping with come and waiting to be used by the very cock I’m beginning to drive in and out of her. And she bellows beautifully as my teeth bite through her skin and I shove at her hip, grating the bone into the church floor for more leverage. Then grunts, spit flying from her mouth as I forge in again and watch her eyes ignite to what I knew they’d become when pushed. She becomes fierce, a devil, enough so that I’m desperate to see them and curl her face further towards me, still raging in and reaming out more space inside her cunt. Another snarl growls out of her, her mouth as frenzied as I’m becoming with my cock, her teeth snapping wildly. It makes me latch onto her lips, squashing her chin with my fingers as I keep driving in and she twists beneath me. It’s glorious. She’s glorious with her venomous little mouth growling hatred through the air between us and winding me further. It’s everything I’ve been hiding, quieting. She beckons it out of me, fuelling the fire with every next attempt at non consent. And then her tongue flicks at me, probably without thought. Fuck knows. I no longer care anyway, I’m becoming too lost to give a fuck, and the grinding she’s offering is plenty enough to know that this is now consensual, regardless of where it started. She fucks back at me as good as I’m giving her, her hips rising and forging back as I continue pounding into her flesh. And her fucking noises drive me mad with desire, enough so that I wrench at her leg, flipping her so I can get her on her back and fuck in deeper. The mere thought half halts me, a flash of indecision weighing in to stop the connection I’m still trying to refuse. But those fucking eyes beg me as she swings them straight back to me, asking for more with every heated fuck inwards. They ask for adoration, for a connection I’m not ready for, for something I’ve pressed to recesses and deprived of air to keep the sadist quiet.
They fucking ask for love.
“What?” she says, panting as she reaches up and grabs at my neck to pull me down. I glare at her, ravenous for those wide lips to suffocate mine with visions of narcissistic delight, and yet infuriated at the scratches that enhance her cheek. The same ones I’ve shoved her into gaining. And the question fucking bewilders me, increasing the sense of outrage that consumes my thoughts. But the moment her hand curls around my neck and digs in, forcing a link she doesn’t even understand, is the moment I know she’s with me. Like it or not she is here, in the very place I’ve put her, daring a life she knows nothing about and, with that, offering something I crave. “Stain me, Blaine. Do it.”
It’s like a knife slicing through my skin. She speaks the sentiment as if she understands it as she reaches her hold further and drags me downwards. “I want this, please.” Shudders build inside my chest as my heart races to propel me into her again, but this time it’s my mind that fights, tearing me apart and reminding me of eyes that asked for that once before. I pull out a fraction, increasing the distance between us and staring into her eyes in the hope that she understands that, too. She’s just here to learn. She is here to be looked after and shown the correct disciplines. That’s all. That’s all she asked for.
What the fuck am I doing?
I tip my eyes away from her, glancing at her body and noticing all the reddening that’s already there. I can’t cope with the picture in front of me suddenly, can’t bear the thought of vacant eyes or that lifeless expression of death that seems to mix with this moment, regardless of my need to rip my own clothes off and continue. I did this. I made it happen. Again. I did the same thing to another woman, one who had become as willing as Alana is now. One who’s dead. “Please, Blaine. Please.”
I close my eyes to the torment, grabbing hold of her wr
ist and forcibly removing her hand from my neck so I can back away. My fucking cock isn’t so willing. It grinds itself in further regardless of my mind telling it to leave her alone. “Don’t leave me. Show me.” I snarl in response to the plea, pushing at her hands again as they land on my hips and try to draw me back down. I’m furious, livid, defeated maybe. Fucked if I know anymore what I am. I’m fucking insane.
“Get on with it.”
Delany’s voice shocks me, making me remember I’m not alone. I look up to find the guy leaning on a marble column, one hand rubbing at his lips and the other holding Tabitha’s waist. Alana’s head turns, too, as if she’s just remembered there are four of us as well.
“I…” she stutters, her body wriggling away from me and doing exactly the right thing by both of us. One more minute and it might have been … “This is wrong.” She’s damn right it was. So fucking wrong.
My head hangs as I pull in breaths to try to dispel whatever the hell my body thought it was doing. I’m greeted by my cock, still rabid with the need to fuck its way through her untainted body and aching to cause the pain it wants to. I hover there, half rooted inside her and staring at the glistening visions of a joining I’m not ready for, but still yearning to cement. Our skin’s slicked together, our breaths merged. Our panting, rhythmic and aligned in a glory I know will be soul consuming. It’s only my mind stopping me now. Just as I’ve fucking trained it to do.
I slowly pull out fully, every second of the movement causing an ache so profound my own thighs bellow at the prospect, my muscles cramping in protest. My whole body baulks and hesitates, willing me inward again rather than the exit I’m trying for.
“Blaine, please I…” I shake my head, my hands leaving her skin as my mind finally wins the internal war that’s raging and leaves me cold and alone again. She knows nothing. This isn’t up to her.
“Take her to the bathroom,” I snarl quietly to Delaney, as I lever my body up, turn for the back of the church, and walk away from the one thing I need most. “Then into your suite. Let her rest and clean her up.” That’s all I can get out as I lift my feet up the steps, barely recognising the direction I’m walking in. Fucked if I know or care—perhaps up to the steeple to throw myself out of the window.
Time’s a fucking healer, they say. Is it fuck? All time does is prolong the inevitable. It simply produces a point through which nothing matters, until the inescapable corrects the path forward again, duplicating the old and returning it with brighter blooms than it ever had before. Time just delays the response. Nothing is learnt. Nothing is different. Everything inside me is as savage as it used to be, ferociously asking for release and desperate for its escape. Although, I did stop; perhaps that’s what time has achieved. But fuck, my fingers still itch, and as my hand goes to put my cock away, it changes its fucking mind and begins rubbing against the skin instead, all the time imagining a whimper so profound it still resonates. I grunt at the thought, leaning my hand onto the spiral staircase and beginning to tug my cock regardless of the visions coming at me. I’m a sick fucking man. Insane perhaps. But that death stare, and that whimper in the final few seconds, and that final struggle is still all-consuming. The life it offers, the open will that hands itself over, not caring for its demise in my hands as it does? Fuck. My groan echoes against the metal as I think of Alana’s pleas and tug again, leaning my head onto the frame to cool my mind down.
“Blaine?” I frown, my hand stopping and my back turning to her for fear of the damage I might do if she does the unthinkable and offers herself again.
“Go with Delaney, Alana. I don’t want you here.”
“Why?” The sigh that leaves me is sheer hell to maintain. It runs through my body, loosing yet more aggression and dulling my mind’s ability to tell my body what to do.
“I swear, if you ask that one more time, I’ll…”
She moves, carefully creeping into my space and then my face, her body ducking under my braced arm until she’s right here, pinned between me and the metal of the stairs. I stare, yet again trying to warn her that this isn’t right. She knows it; she’s said it herself. This isn’t what she’s come for, and no matter how strong the itch to slam her against something and root myself so far inside her she’ll hardly breathe, I won’t. I’ve stopped it once, made the correct choice, and regardless of my hand still holding my cock’s advance at bay, I won’t be goaded again. But something about her smile tears strips from my resolve. Or maybe it’s her eyes. Or maybe it’s the way those colours in her hair match the stripes of ink and purple beginning to shine on her skin from bruising. She just waits there, neither confirming nor denying that any of my thoughts are the right ones. She just waits, and then her hand moves to my chest, flicking one of the buttons on my shirt open and slowly lowering to the next. I watch it move, inwardly begging her not to go any further.
“Stop.” It’s barely audible, just a pretence at the right thing to do, and my own hand confirms it by beginning to pull the skin on my cock again.
“You’re extraordinary,” she whispers, shy eyes now looking at my chest rather than at my eyes anymore. “This is all extraordinary.” Mmmm. It certainly is unusual, and becoming more so as she flicks another button and pulls the rest from my pants to slide her hands onto skin. “I thought you were teaching me. Why did you stop?” She makes her way past the waistband on my pants as she speaks, slipping one hand down to reach for the base of my cock and pushing on my own fingers to get them to move. “It’s okay,” she says, a softness to her tone that only furthers the need to fuck in deeper. No it isn’t. None of this is okay. I should know better. Should be better. “Do you like it deep throated?” My brow rises, perhaps enjoying the way her smile quirks the dirtier her mouth becomes. I nod in reply, unable to keep the thought of those pretty lips gagging out of my mind. “Shall I then?” she asks, her eyes coming up to mine at last so I can stare back into them and forget the right thing to do. “Or should I…” She points back at where she’s come from, presumably at Delaney, who should be taking her away, not letting her come back. I probably should shout at the dick, but the sight of her here, quivering slightly and gently touching me is consuming any appropriate reaction. I do want her mouth around me. And I do want to fuck her. And I do want the one thing I shouldn’t even be considering. And she’s asking, blatantly now. She’s standing here offering. Begging.
I lick my lips at her, waiting for her to make whichever fucking decision she wants to. I’m tired of making the choice for her, which is exactly what I should be doing. That’s what men like me are supposed to do. Be in control. Hold the process and teach with clarity and informed decisions. But in so few meetings I’ve struggled to control it every time with her, and this last time, the one that happened mere minutes ago, I’ve been nearly untameable. Egged on by Delaney maybe, but it’s all down to me and the way she makes me feel about touching her, about connecting with her. I’d kill for her now. I’ll smother any man that comes with ten feet of her, seeing him as a threat to my possession. My precious little toy. I know it in this second more than I have before. I know because of the itch still consuming my fingers and the second sigh that leaves my lips as she flutters her eyes. I’m done with care. Done with denying it. Done with trying to hold everything inside and keep her safe. She’s just there, offering herself and showing me her willingness. Still, I should take her home; that’s what I should do, isn’t it? Give her her life back before I take it away.
“Do what you want to do.”
It’s the best and only response I have. Done. She’ll either suck my cock, bathing me in something I don’t fucking deserve in the slightest, or she’ll leave. Either of which is probably an exceptional response to the near beating I’ve just given her. Tension rattles the air between us. Not from me. I’m done with it. I just grip the metal tighter, relaying my strength into it in hope that it will keep it from her skin, and hover my arm across her shoulder as her soft fingers stroke against my cock. I don’t remove my eyes from
her, and I don’t stop my other hand from reaching up and drawing a finger along her face either. I don’t want to. She’s such an unspoiled little thing—beauty personified and drenched in as much sin as I need. All I have to do is set it free. I just have to show her and let her feel her own way through the turmoil to come. I just have to let her come with me.
“Like this?” she asks, her fingers glancing the side of me with nowhere near enough pressure. It drives me crazy, causing my teeth to grit at the involuntary shunt that shoves my cock harder into her hand.
“Tighter.” Perhaps single words will be better. There’s less connection in the singular. She giggles softly, her smile amused at the primal response. It rallies more visions of pain to collide in my mind, ones that stop brattish giggles dead in their tracks. But as she increases her grip, her fingers compressing securely and her mouth smiling sinfully, she begins to pump it back and forth exactly how I need it. I feel the spasms begin in my balls, causing my own mouth to grimace at the oncoming bliss she will deliver. She works the fucking thing with the precision of a trained sub, something I’ve not imagined as achievable the first time around.
“Fuck you.” I grunt the words, not really at her, more at my own lack of discipline. This is so far past wrong its lunacy, and yet not one part of me is stopping her this time. My body actually steps into her, squashing her backwards into the metal and sighing at the screech that echoes from her lips. Fuck her sucking me. I want inside her cunt again, where I might even spill my load and watch her eyes beg for more of what I have to offer. The need is indescribable, more so than it even used to be. So much so that I drop my hand and ram it inside her instead, causing another bay of discomfort to come from her mouth. Then she gasps as I let go of the metal and drop my other hand to her thigh, spreading her legs and lifting her to rest against the metal staircase.
Once Upon A (Stained Duet Book 1) Page 26