DEPRAVED

by J, Bella

  “Granite—”

  “Think about it, Alyx. Think about all those times you touched yourself, imagining it was me.”

  “No.” I shook my head and licked my lips.

  “How did I do it? How did I make you come?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He laughed, the sound something between amusement and malevolence.

  “Did I spread your pussy lips like this?” He slipped two digits between my folds, and I moaned out loud as he spread them wide. The cold air teased across the wetness of my arousal, and the sensations that possessed me was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

  “Did I play with your clit…like this?” With his other hand, he used the pad of his thumb, gently rubbing against that one sweet spot.

  I bucked as pleasure zapped through my gut, slamming against every bone in my body.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it, ballerina girl? That tiny little clit of yours open, unhooded, and just waiting to be worked.”

  My mind scattered while tears still slipped down my cheeks, but they became less and less, pleasure slowly smothering my fear.

  His fingers kept its rhythm. “Did touching yourself ever feel this good?”

  I shook my head again. Because the truth was, nothing felt as good as it did when he touched me there. I’d given myself countless orgasms thinking of this moment, thinking of him. But judging by the way my body burned, my insides ready to burst into flames, I knew no orgasm I’d given myself would compare to being pleasured by him.

  “Did you imagine my mouth between your legs?” His hand grabbed my inner thigh, spreading my legs while his fingers kept my inner lips parted and open. When I felt the warmth and the wetness of his tongue on my clit, I cried out. The pleasure was so intense, it was almost painful, my muscles tremoring and quaking with possession.

  “That’s my girl,” he whispered against my sensitive flesh, the warmth of his breath moving inside me. “I’m going to make you come, and then I’m going to take what is rightfully mine.”

  “Granite, this isn’t right.”

  “Well, it sure as fuck ain’t wrong either.” With a moan, he sucked my clit into his mouth, teasing the tip of his tongue against it. He groaned like a starved animal finally able to sate his hunger. And the harder he licked, sucked, eating me out, the higher my body climbed.

  I balled my fists, tugging against the ropes, my head falling back as I arched myself off the mattress. The pleasure was too intense, too raw, and it ached, causing me to involuntarily close my legs. But Granite yanked my legs apart without fucking up the rhythm of his tongue against my pussy. Then he stopped abruptly. “What the fuck?”

  “What?” My voice was nothing but a rush of air.

  He pulled my thigh, twisting my flesh. “You have a tattoo.”

  Fuck. Embarrassment spread like a hundred-and-ten-degree summer day up my neck and into my cheeks.

  “The skull,” he said as he traced a finger around it. “You got the Kings skull.”

  He looked up at me, eyes more determined than ever. “And yet you still argue the fact that you belong to me. You inked it on your fucking skin, Alyx, proof that you knew you were mine long before I fucking took you.”

  “Granite—” But his tongue claimed my sex again. This time it was hard, greedy, and unrelenting. More and more, harder and harder. All my body could do was surrender to the toxic mix of pleasure and pain that had every inch of me knotted in ecstasy.

  “Granite…God. It’s too much.”

  He didn’t stop, his tongue lapping down to my entrance, and then back up to my clit.

  It started at my toes, the current moving up my legs, my thighs, and I knew it was about to erupt.

  “I’m going to come.” The words left my mouth unabashedly, and my shoulders complained as I pulled against the ropes. He slipped a finger inside me, and that was the last push my body needed before pleasure exploded in my core. A scream ripped from my throat, his tongue not stopping, determined to carry me through every second of pleasure. The ripple of ecstasy crashed against every bone, my legs and arms quivering with an orgasm so strong I was sure it would crack me wide open.

  “Jesus Christ. Your come is so fucking sweet.” Lapping at my entrance, licking all around my sex, Granite didn’t stop until my body went lax on the mattress.

  There was no way I was able to control my breathing, my body still electrified from the most intense pleasure I had ever experienced. My mind was in a haze, too many different sensations running rampant in my body. There wasn’t a single feeling I could focus on. Not a single coherent thought.

  His hands wrapped around my ankles, my legs too weak to fight. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m tying your legs again.”

  It took every ounce of strength I had left to lift my head off the pillow to see what was happening. “Why? Why are you tying me up again?”

  “Because once I start pushing my cock inside you, your legs will want to close, feeling that kind of pressure for the first time.”

  My heart beat so fast, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the pleasure that still lingered in my bones, or whether it was from the vague threat of pain in his words.

  “Are you going to hurt me?” My voice shook, my stomach suddenly twisted in knots.

  “Yes,” he answered simply without hesitating. No remorse. No guilt.

  I swallowed hard, my throat nothing but sand.

  Granite stood straight at the end of the bed, and he slowly unbuckled his belt before slipping off his jeans. Even if I tried, I wouldn’t have been able to look away. Naked, he looked even more powerful, dominant…beautiful. Tattoos covered most of his body—different shapes, different images that were too hard to make out under the flicker of candlelight. But among them was one I could see clearly, an eagle across his chest. It seemed as magnificent as him, strong and majestic.

  My gaze dropped to his cock, hard and proudly standing at attention as the head almost reached his navel.

  He eased onto the bed, slipping his tongue against my leg as he moved up my body. My head fell back, new desire blooming inside me like flowers waking after winter. Up and up he went, and I felt the head of his cock brush against my leg.

  As he moved, he slid his hand between my legs, dipping a finger inside me. “We need to make sure you’re still soaking wet for this, ballerina girl.”

  No doubt, I was still wet, and with a satisfied smirk on his face, he lifted up and settled between my legs. Feeling his weight on top of me, the warmth of skin against skin, it was nothing like I imagined it. It was better—like two bodies molding together to become one. I never understood that analogy, of two bodies becoming one. But now I knew it wasn’t something to understand, it was something that could only be experienced. Two souls merging together, doing what our most primal instincts urged us to do.

  I bit my lip, my heart about to explode when the head of his cock nudged against my entrance.

  “I’m not going to lie,” he started, pushing forward just half an inch. “It’s going to hurt. A lot.”

  Another tear trickled down my face. I’d be stupid if I wasn’t scared. Granite was a big man, and I was nothing but a tiny ballerina. My body would never survive his. We were like one giant contradiction, the two of us.

  Gently, he wiped the tear from my cheek with the back of his hand. “But then I’ll make it feel really good afterward. I promise.”

  “Don’t…do this.” It was a last attempt, my last try to stop him. I didn’t think I was ready to sell my soul to the devil, but he thought otherwise.

  His hand wrapped around my jaw, and he forced me to look at him. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want this.”

  Green eyes studied me, scrutinized me, searching my face like he could find all his answers there.

  “Tell me this isn’t what you’ve wanted since the first time you looked down at me from your bedroom window.” He moved his hips slightly, a blunt pressure pressing between my legs.


  “Tell me, Alyx.” His eyes never left mine, and I couldn’t stop looking at him. No matter how desperate my mind was to convince myself that this was not what I wanted…it was. This was what I wanted, what I’d fantasized about. Maybe not in this way or under these circumstances, but in the end, this was what I wanted. Because I wanted it with him. No one else. Granite was right. I had been his all along. From that very first moment our eyes met, it was him. It had always been him. There was no use denying it anymore. No use fighting it. Fighting what I could not change was tiring and pointless. So I succumbed.

  I nodded, and his face softened as if a veil of relief fell over him.

  “Just…I have one request.” I bit my lip before scraping together my courage. “Untie my hands. I want to touch you. I want to be able to wrap my arms around you, you know…when you do it.” I didn’t ask him to free my legs. He was right. It would lessen the struggle, and hopefully lessen the pain.

  It took him a few moments. Thinking. Contemplating. Never taking his eyes off my face.

  He moved, and with his big frame, he didn’t need to lift much in order to reach for his knife on the bedside table and then my wrists.

  One by one, he cut the ropes. “Easy,” he cautioned as I slowly brought my arms down, my shoulders aching and complaining.

  As he settled between my legs once more, I cautiously placed my hands on his shoulders. The instant I touched him, he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. I felt a shiver spread down his body, and it was surreal to see what effect my touch had on him. A single, simple, soft touch, and this big, strong, dominating man seemed disarmed. Could this moment be just as powerful for him as it was for me?

  He moved, and his hips bucked forward, causing more blunt pressure between my legs as his cock started to enter me.

  My eyes pinched closed, and I gripped his shoulders tighter.

  “Breathe,” he whispered. “Just breathe.”

  Deeply, I inhaled, opening my eyes, and he pushed further.

  “Jesus.” His head fell forward, long hair brushing over my skin, caressing my breasts. “I knew your pussy would be tight, but this is just,” he drove in deeper, “this is just…fuck.”

  Sweat beaded on his forehead, and I saw the strain on his face. It was agony for him to go so slow. For a man who was hellbent on taking me—whether I succumbed or not—he was torturing himself in order to make it easier for me.

  The protector.

  The guardian.

  I placed my hands on the sides of his face. “Kiss me.” Our eyes searched one another. “Kiss me, and then take everything you want from me.”

  My lips were already hungry, wanting to feel his kiss, and I brought his face down. Granite kept still, his lips hovering over mine, as if there was a decision that needed to be made here. A decision that had the power to change both our lives. It was surreal how this started out with a man determined to spread my legs, whether I wanted him to or not, and now ended up being something bigger than either of us could have expected.

  With a lot of effort, I managed to move my hips, forcing him inside me a little more, and we both moaned when his mouth slammed against mine. It wasn’t soft or gentle. It was a frenzy of lips and tongues as we devoured each other.

  The pressure against my inner walls became more and more as his girth stretched me, straining to go in all the way.

  Tears pooled at the back of my eyes as the ache spread from between my thighs to the back of my spine. It was a kind of pressure I had never experienced before, and if it wasn’t for my legs being tied, I knew instinct would have had me wanting to close them.

  Granite kissed me once more then lifted himself up on his arms. He was shaking, face red and hungry. “Say it.” He didn’t move. “Say…yes.”

  This was the part where I gave up fighting. This was the part where I made peace with how fucked-up all of this was, because I realized this was how it had to be. This was him. This was who he was. He wasn’t a romantic Prince Charming who wanted to spend happily ever after with his princess in some far away land. He was Granite, President of the American Street Kings, a ruthless, savage motorcycle club who ruled the underground of New York.

  This was my stranger in the dark. The man I’d always wanted.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes.”

  Without warning, he thrusted hard and deep, and I cried out as he pushed past the barrier of my virginity. The pain was excruciating, the pressure feeling like it was about to tear me in half. Every muscle ached, my body shuddering as he claimed it.

  “Hold on, baby. It will feel good soon. Just hold on.” He gave me no more than two seconds to adjust to him before he reared back, only to drive his cock back inside me.

  Another scream ripped from my throat, but he smothered it with his lips, kissing me. He didn’t stop thrusting, but it started to hurt less and less, the pressure turning into an ache that felt…good.

  “Jesus Christ, Alyx. This feels…fuck. You feel better than I imagined.”

  His arms shook, his muscles quickening, and I found myself loving the fact that he admitted to fantasizing about me. It added fuel to the fire of pleasure burning in my core.

  “Lift your ass, baby. Move those pussy walls and suck me in deep.”

  I did as he commanded, and my body became greedy, wanting every inch of him inside me. It felt so fucking good, I sank my nails deep into the skin of his back, convinced I tore through flesh.

  “That’s it, ballerina girl. Work it. Take it. And get fucking used to it, because I’ll be shoving my cock inside this sweet body of yours every chance I get from here on out.”

  Leaning on one arm, he reached between us, his expert fingers finding my clit.

  A whimper rolled over my lips, my body shaking and quivering. Every nerve ending was about to explode while Granite kept stretching me to the point where I could no longer distinguish between pain or pleasure.

  Burying his face in my neck, Granite moved up and down, in and out, and I slipped my hand down his back to palm his ass.

  No matter how wrong I thought this was earlier, now it felt right.

  It took one more thrust, and I shattered into nothing but shards of pleasure. My body was no longer mine. It was his, and he forced ecstasy through my bones over and over again.

  “That’s it. Point those dainty toes for me, ballerina girl. Come around my cock, and I’ll cream this sweet pussy of yours.”

  Harder, faster, completely possessed by the hunt for his own pleasure, he couldn’t keep a steady rhythm anymore. He was lost, just as much as I was.

  Slipping his arms under my back, gripping my shoulders with his hands, he forced me down while he pushed so deep inside me it hurt. But the pleasure was still lingering, and I didn’t care about the pain anymore. The rush was too strong, and I no longer cared about anything but him and allowing him to consume me.

  He groaned out loud, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as he came inside me. I could feel the thickness of his cock, the way it jerked as he climaxed. More proof that he had just staked his claim, marked me like no other man had before. It was in that moment I realized no matter what happened from here on out, I belonged to him now. A powerful man like him would never let go of something he owned so wholeheartedly. That something being me.

  A few more seconds, and the frenzy of our fuckery started to dissipate. It was a high I couldn’t explain. There were no words to describe something that felt so euphoric, leaving me breathless and utterly spent. Every muscle in my body went from tight and taut to lax and limp. There was no other way to see it than he literally took everything from me. There was nothing left, my energy completely depleted.

  With heavily hooded eyes, he looked down at me before he slowly pulled out. I winced, and it felt raw and achy between my legs. Now that the pleasure had subsided, the pain started to take its place.

  Granite bucked to the side then looked down to where our bodies were one mere seconds ago. “Look, ballerina girl.” I lifted off the pillow and st
ared down at his wet, glistening cock, smears of crimson coating his length. “I told you the next time you kissed me, I wouldn’t walk away without making you bleed. And now,” he nestled back on top of me, brushing hair from my face with his fingers, “your virgin blood just sealed your fate. No man will ever have the pleasure of fucking you, ballerina girl. Only me. It will always only be me.”

  21

  Granite

  Finally claiming her, knowing I was the first to explore that tight little pussy of hers, gave me a sense of satisfaction that could not be put into words. Did I care that I had to play dirty in order to get her to succumb? No.

  No one knew my ballerina as well as I did, and all she needed was a little nudge to finally realize this was what she wanted as well. If it wasn’t, she wouldn’t have come undone under my touch so easily. Pleasure was plastered on her face with every drop of sweat that beaded on her skin. And the way her walls throbbed around my dick as she orgasmed, it was all the proof I fucking needed. All those nights of watching her from afar, thinking about her, desiring her, longing to make her mine, it all came down to this fucking moment. The moment when my entire world shifted, and she became the biggest part of it.

  Bemused and vivid, her sapphire blue eyes showed me her inner struggle, how her mind tried to convince her body not to find pleasure in my touch. It had to have been torture for her, fighting something that couldn’t be changed. And her being mine wasn’t something she could change, no matter how hard she tried. I wasn’t a man who believed in fate, but she was the closest I came to believing that maybe we didn’t have control over our own lives after all.

  I looked down at her body beneath me. Her tits weren’t even close to the size of the palm of my hand, but her nipples were the most beautiful rosy pink. Delicate and fucking perfect. Pale white skin barely touched by sunlight was coated with a sheen of sweat—flawless, picturesque. Mine.

  “You okay?”

  Her slight nod made it obvious the war was still raging inside that pretty head of hers. She still wasn’t convinced this was right. That what we had just done was meant to happen. Well, I just had to convince her.