by Layla Frost
But when his thumbs teased my puckered hole before trailing down to my wetness, all I could do was rock back, a silent plea for more.
His hands left me before one landed in a stinging slap. I yelped and shifted away instinctively, but it didn’t stop the next from landing.
Or the one after that.
As soon as my mind caught up to my body, I froze, and his touch returned to tender.
He curved his torso over mine, the thick shaft of his cock nestled between my pussy lips as it stretched heavily up my belly. His tone was composed, borderline cold as he stated, “You get what I give, when I want to give it. And right now, you get what you’ve earned.”
“Are you gonna spank me again?” I asked, dread and anticipation swirling in equal parts.
“Ten more. I should use the crop so you can see how much you’ll love hating it, but I’ve been waiting months for this. Fucking months. It’s going to be a long night, and I don’t want you too sore.” He paused, smirking. “Yet.”
Based on what’s throbbing against me, I’m gonna end up sore no matter what.
“Count, Eden,” he ordered as he lifted off me. “If you lose track, we start again.” He shifted, his dick sliding against my clit as he moved away to position himself.
“Wait!” I panted—whether it was from panic or desire, I wasn’t sure.
“Yes?”
“Don’t we need like… a safe word or something?”
Damien’s hand wrapped around my throat, his other cupping me between my legs as he lifted me onto my knees. Using his thumb, he tilted my chin until I was arched to look at him.
I’d have taken intensive yoga for years so I could contort like a pretzel if it meant seeing the lust and pride and danger that swirled in his eyes.
“No, my depraved angel. There’s no safe word. No system. No hours of operation, room, or fantasy. I told you, this is how I am.” He tightened his hold between my legs. “And based on your sweet juices coating my hand right now, it’s how you are. But if you don’t like something, say no and I stop.” He curled his thick middle finger suddenly, sliding it in me. Crooking it, he stroked inside me as he increased the pressure on my clit until my knees were practically off the bed. He bit my neck before growling, “Just make sure you actually want me to stop.”
I was so close to coming, I didn’t even have air in my lungs to protest when he slid his finger out and released his hold on me.
Palm between my shoulders, he pushed my chest and face back down to the bed. “Count, Eden, or I start again.”
Tense and impatient, I waited for the first blow, but his touch was gentle. He stroked my skin with such care, pushing my hair to the side with soft tenderness before teasing his fingertips down my spine. It was affectionate and soothing.
I was naked and bent, spread shamelessly as I waited for my ass to be spanked. I shouldn’t have felt treasured, but I did. My body began to relax, the voice of doubt and condemnation being smothered out by the warmth in my soul.
The first smack surprised me, again making me jerk and try to escape on instinct. My brain was quicker to catch up to my body that time, and I quickly reset myself.
“One,” I wheezed.
Damien’s bit out curse became a groan when he landed the next spank and I didn’t move.
“Two.”
Another came, pushing a guttural yelp from me that I tried to muffle with the mattress. “Three.”
“Stop counting,” he ordered.
I wanted to ask why, but it was low on my list of priorities. Instead, I braced and waited. The next spank landed harder than the others, rocking me forward. The pain radiated, leaving heat in its place.
Four.
As if he read my thoughts, Damien reached between my legs to pinch my clit. “I said to stop counting.”
I whimpered at the tension that coiled, the line between pain and blinding pleasure no longer existing.
The next few hit suddenly, only a brief pause between them. Each blow ended in a caress, blurring them until it felt like one continuous wave, ebbing and flowing.
Drowning in the waves, I hadn’t even realized Damien had moved until I felt his mouth between my thighs. His thick tongue lapped from my clit all the way up to my ass before returning to repeat the trail again. My brain was gone, lost in sensations and desperation only he could provoke.
Damien gripped my sore ass roughly, holding me to him as he ate me—devoured me—with maddening ferocity. His tongue speared in, fucking me before moving to twirl around my clit. Each variation pushed me closer to a different edge while pulling me from the other, leaving me in purgatory.
“Please,” I begged, unsure whether I’d earn more punishment but happily welcoming it if it meant I’d get to come.
Maybe even if I didn’t, as long as it brought that same hazy bliss.
“Please what?” he asked, his breath cool against my overheated pussy. “What do you want?”
“You.” His answering groan vibrated against me, spurring me on enough to add, “I need you.”
In a blink, I was on my back with Damien hovering over me. I spread my legs, his hips dropping between my thighs and his hardness pressing against me, making us both moan.
His arm went between us as he fisted his cock, lining the tip up against my pussy. I tried to wiggle and rock against him, but his free hand went around my throat, his hold loose but confining enough to make me still. “I was tested months ago and haven’t been with anyone in longer than that.”
I blinked up at him. “Months?”
“Ever since a depraved angel walked into my life, and I became obsessed with breaking her halo to give her horns.” His gaze moved between us and his cock pressed in a little, stretching me. “Became obsessed with her.”
His possessive words should’ve been frightening, or at the very least alarming, but they filled me with molten heat and irrational happiness.
“I’m on the pill and clean,” I shared.
“I know.”
I didn’t bother to ask how, and he didn’t expand. His stalkerific tendencies were no longer surprising.
“I’ve spent months thinking about this moment. Jacking off to it. Needing it more than I need my next breath. I want to feel nothing but your pussy strangling my dick, but it’s up to you. Do you want me to use a condom?” he asked, giving me power where it mattered.
I shook my head, wiggling and lifting my pelvis to try to get what I wanted.
“You don’t control this,” he reminded, nipping at my bottom lip before raising his head.
I leaned up, wanting his lips back on mine. “I know.”
He gave in, kissing me hard but much too fast. “Begging won’t work.”
“Noted.”
“You’re trying anyway.”
My nails dug into his shoulders as I rocked against him, breathily whispering, “I’m persistent like that.”
“You’re fucking perfect.” He kissed me again, his tongue covered in my taste. His fingers left my throat to deftly work my nipples, hardening them to hypersensitive peaks. The thick, heavy weight of his cock moved from my entrance to grind against my clit.
His lips trailed down my neck, making goosebumps spread across my skin as the tip of his tongue teased along the spot where my neck met my shoulder. He bit down suddenly, and I lost my mind.
“Please. I’ll do anything. Please, please, please,” I repeated. A chant. A prayer.
“You want to come?”
I nodded emphatically, beyond shame or doubt.
Fisting his cock again, his knuckles ran across my clit as he slowly stroked his length. “You want me to fuck you until your tight, sweet pussy explodes around my dick?”
A tremor ran through me like a mini orgasm. “Badly.”
He positioned the head of his cock at my pussy, pressing in just enough to tease me. “Admit you like it. All of this.”
“I like it,” I said instantly. No hesitation or apprehension. All the disgust and self-consciousnes
s and condemnation that’d echoed through my head, admonishing me for how wrong it was—how wrong I was—had disappeared.
Fire blazed in his eyes. “You want more?”
And just like earlier, I jumped. I dove off the precipice, going headfirst into something so unknown and wild, I had to be insane to want it. But I did. “I want it all.”
The last word had barely left my lips when he slammed into me. Filling me. Stretching me.
There was nothing slow about it. No tenderness or teasing. No easing in. Damien fucked me with the ferocious intensity of someone who’d been waiting months.
And I took it all.
Every thrust.
Every bite.
Every bruising kiss.
Every harsh grunt and rough curse.
Because Damien wasn’t the only one who’d spent months thinking about that moment. I’d worried I’d built it up too much in my head, my expectations unreachable and insurmountable. But the way Damien fucked me surpassed anything I’d imagined.
I didn’t have to shift and twist in a not-so-subtle hint at what I wanted. Nor did I have to give directions, draw him a map, or do it myself. I sure as hell didn’t have to fake.
Damien seemed to know my body better than I did. He anticipated my needs before I knew I needed them.
I truly was his marionette, and he undeniably held my strings. He moved me how he wanted, held me where he wanted me, took me how he wanted.
He used me.
And I loved it.
With my brain silent and my body in his capable hands, there was nothing for me to do but enjoy the pleasure he gave. It was light and freeing, the ever-present weight on my shoulders temporarily gone.
“You’re close,” he growled in my ear. He was right, of course.
The coil of tension that was tightening in my lower stomach was close to snapping. Exploding. Shattering into a million pieces, never to be whole again.
I bit my lip, worried he’d pull away again. That he’d draw out the torture, finding his own pleasure without giving me mine.
My worry was for nothing. Damien’s already rough movements went unhinged. He lifted onto his knees and put his hand on my pelvis, his thumb rubbing my clit in the exact way I liked. Even with my legs wrapped around his and my nails digging into his forearms, the force of his thrusts pushed me up the bed.
His hand moved from the mattress to my collarbone, holding me in place as his fingers rested on my throat. It wasn’t painful, but it was firm.
It was exactly what I needed.
My body pulsed. My legs trembled, squeezing him closer. Air left my lungs, my heart stopped, and my brain went so blissfully blank, there was nothing but the insane rush of blinding pleasure that raced through my body.
Through the haze, I was vaguely aware of his pace slowing. I wanted to selfishly demand he resume the all-out tempo so my orgasm wasn’t cut short, but I couldn’t find my voice. The thought itself disappeared when he began rolling his hips, his cock pressing deep as his coarse hair covered pelvis rubbed against my abused clit.
I wanted to decipher and memorize the way he was looking at me, but I was powerless to keep my lids open as my already explosive orgasm rolled into a second one. They closed, my neck arching against the curve between his thumb and index finger.
“Fucking exquisite,” Damien whispered, the words cutting through the fog to swirl around me like another layer of sensation.
His tempo changed again as he slowed to almost still. His cock glided, long strokes at a slow pace. My body copied, the last waves of pleasure taking on his rhythm, ebbing until they faded away. It left me satisfied yet immediately craving more.
Craving him.
“This is it,” he said, sliding his hand to grip my chin. “You made the choice, knowing damn well what this was. No more walls. No backtracking. And no more running. We’ll deal with my job, your classes, your damn secrets. We’ll deal together because we are together. You need to accept it and trust me.”
“I do,” I said before I could fully process all he’d said.
He shook his head. “You don’t. But you will because you don’t have a choice.” His speed quickened, his eyes growing almost feral as they moved down my body to my breasts. “I’ve already come on your pretty tits.” His gaze continued until he was staring at where my pussy was shoved full of his cock. “The way you’re squeezing me so tight, your sweet juices coating my cock and dripping down my balls, I’m gonna shoot deep inside your tight pussy. That still leaves down your throat, all over your beautiful face, in your ass, and wherever else I decide.”
I didn’t think I could come again—ever. Definitely not so soon. But his words—his filthy-sweet words—had my body ready for more. Greedy for it.
“You know why?” Damien asked, though he didn’t give me the chance to answer. “Because I can. Because you love it, get off on it, want it just as bad as I do.” He pulled out almost all the way, just the thick head still stretching me. “Because you’re mine.”
Slamming in, whatever shred of control he’d been clinging to was gone. Gripping my hip and shoulder, Damien held me where he wanted as he fucked me with frenzied abandon.
My battered ass stung as it slid against the sheets. My clit ached, and my pussy was stretched, stuffed, and tender. But I spread my legs farther, offering him my body.
Offering him me.
Because he was right. I loved it. I wanted it. And despite how wrung raw I was, my pussy pulsed, tightly squeezing him as I got off on it.
Each word was a harsh staccato on a thrust as he cursed me. Worshipped me. “Fuck, Eden. Fucking depraved angel. My angel. Fuck.”
In all that’d happened that night—all the arguing, sharing, and leaping—nothing was as profound as the way he came. I could live to be a hundred and fifty, and on my deathbed, I’d still remember the way he grunted my name, the feel of his body surrounding me, and the storm of emotions in his midnight eyes.
Still twitching inside me, Damien pressed his forehead to mine as we fought to catch our breath.
I knew the exact moment he had blood flowing to his brain again because his muscles flexed, as though he were bracing. Based on our track record, I didn’t blame him.
But I was too tired to be a pain in the ass. Too light and free to take on the weight of the world.
Too happy to soil it with should-bes and preconceived notions of normality.
I leaned up, ignoring the way Damien tensed further. Pressing my smiling lips to his, I stroked his stubbled cheek.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he whispered against my lips before pulling away to meet my gaze. “This is just the beginning. You gave me you and there’s no going back.”
Do I want to go back to an empty bed, fine enough orgasms, and a life without Damien, all so I can say I’m normal?
Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I released it and nodded. “I know.”
Damien kissed me, his cock twitching.
Holy hell, if he fucks me again, there’s a good chance I’ll die.
He pinched my nipple hard enough to make me gasp, using that opening to deepen the kiss and twirl his tongue with mine.
Meh, it’s worth the risk.
My decision didn’t matter, though, because Damien ended the kiss and shifted away. His cock slid free, making me wince even as I moaned softly.
His gaze locked between my legs, and I began to close them, once again self-conscious since I was no longer mindless with lust. He softly slapped my thigh.
“Try to hide what’s mine, and I’ll tie you spread-eagle to the bed,” he threatened. My body must’ve shown my reaction, because he smirked as he stroked his cock lazily. “Maybe I’ll do it anyway.” His fingers skimmed along the seam of my pussy lips, gliding through my wetness mixed with his come. “Perfect.”
He honestly thinks I’m perfect. Not that I’ll be perfect if I change this, this, this, and this. Not that I’ll never be perfect so I’m not worth his time. Not that the fake me is
perfect, but the real me would be found wanting.
He knows me better than anyone, and he thinks I’m perfect.
A small smile pulled at my lips, and I dropped my knees open.
He cupped my pussy possessively. “I knew you were an angel sent to drag me to hell, I just didn’t know you’d be the one to kill me first.”
“There’re worse ways to go.”
“True, but I have a long list of things to do first. Ways to fuck you. Places to come on you. Feel free to kill me with your pussy when I’ve done it all—sixty or seventy years should be enough time to scratch the surface.”
“If that’s the plan, I should probably go home and rest up.” I’d barely made it an inch before his body was covering mine.
“Did I say you could leave?”
The coldness in his tone sent a sick thrill down my spine. “No, but—”
“No who?”
“No, Professor Caine.”
“You’re not dismissed until I say you are.”
“Yes, Professor Caine,” I said through a yawn.
He shook his head as he stood, his cock proud and thick as it jutted out. “I’ve finally got you in my bed. Even if I didn’t want to fuck you again,” he paused to grab himself to emphasize the point, “which I do, that’s not all you’re here for.” He headed across the hall and came back a minute later with a washcloth. He kneeled between my legs and ran the warm, wet cloth over my pussy. “And I sure as hell wouldn’t let you drive home when you’re exhausted.”
My brain fritzed out, and it was like I was watching other people on TV. I didn’t speak as Damien finished his tender ministrations and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with one of his pretty blue glasses.
“Water and Motrin,” he said, waiting for me to hold out my hand, which I did. Once he dropped the bright orange pills in my palm, he gave me the glass.
On autopilot, I took the meds and drank the much-needed water.
Damien put the cup on the side table and turned on the lamp there before moving to turn the overhead one off. When he climbed back into bed, he arranged us so he was propped against the headboard with my head on his chest and my leg tangled with his. His arm was tight around my shoulders even though his fingers in my hair were soothing.