by Izzy Sweet
His mouth. God, I love his mouth. I hate him, but I love those lips of his.
I feel myself relaxing, sinking into the bed. He turns his head and there’s the lightest scrape of his stubble as he goes to work on the other thigh. I’m so relaxed I spread my legs for him.
His hands slide up my legs, lingering at my stomach and then he’s rolling my panties down my hips.
Instantly, I stiffen, fighting the urge to reach down and stop him. I have no doubt that if I lift my palms from this bed he’ll do exactly as he promised.
He stops kissing my thigh and looks up at me, his eyes filled with triumph. My hands clench into fists. I want to smack that triumphant look off of his face.
Then the cool air hits my sex and I shiver. I didn’t even realize I was so wet.
His gaze drops and he stares hard at me. Immediately, I close my legs and lock my knees.
“Don’t you fucking hide from me,” he growls and reaches down, pulling my legs apart.
I cry out, utterly mortified. Tears of shame blur my vision.
His gaze drops again to my exposed pussy, his fingers digging into my knees and keeping me spread.
I turn my face away, unable to watch. Seconds tick by, and I just want to crawl into a hole and die. I wish he would just get this over with.
Then his breath hits my inner thigh and I sense movement down there. I glance down in panic and sure enough he’s getting up close and personal. He’s sticking his face all up in my business.
“Oh my god, what are you doing?” I ask.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he smirks. “I’m admiring the view.”
My cheeks flush with heat and the burn spreads all the way down my chest. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he asks, pretending to be confused but that smirk of his sharpens. “Don’t look at this beautiful pink little pussy?”
“Oh god,” I gasp and shake my head.
He blows his warm breath right against my clit.
The little bundle of nerves lights up and all my muscles tense. My teeth sink into my lip as I swallow back a moan.
“This is my pussy now, and I plan to fully fucking enjoy it. Do you understand?”
Before I can catch my breath, his tongue touches my folds and slowly, torturously, drags up, parting them.
“Oh shit,” I gasp and my fingers claw at the bed.
I’ve never been licked down there before and it’s way, way too intense.
His tongue pauses right before he reaches my clit, leaving me hanging on the edge. “Do you understand, Lily?”
Shit. Understand what?
It takes me a second to figure out what he’s asking. The pulsing in my core is so strong it’s driving me to distraction.
If only he could touch my clit and ease it a little bit…
“Yes,” I gasp. I figure that’s the answer he wants for the question he’s asking.
He makes a rumbling sound of approval and then his tongue is touching me again. Another slow lap up, he takes his time as if he’s truly savoring me. As if he’s truly enjoying this.
Then he pauses just before my clit and I’m squirming in frustration.
Just do it, dammit.
“Whose pussy is this, Lily?”
“Huh?”
What’s with the twenty questions?
He blows against me, and gah! It’s just enough to aggravate the pulsing throb but not enough to do anything about it.
“Whose pussy is this, Lily?” he repeats and then his tongue is on me again, doing little circles around my clit.
Now I know why he’s called Lucifer, because he’s an evil, evil man…
“Yours,” I say softly, so softly.
Fingers clutching the sheet, my back arches and my hips rock up, trying to guide his tongue to where I need it.
Growling, he grabs me by the hips firmly and pins me back down to the bed.
“You’re so fucking sweet,” he says huskily, the vibrations of his voice driving me crazy.
I want those little vibrations just a little higher but just as his tongue almost touches my clit he quickly licks back down.
I throw my head back and cry out in frustration.
He chuckles and repeats his question. “Whose pussy is this, Lily?”
“Yours,” I grit out from between my teeth.
The tip of his tongue very lightly flicks against my clit. “Tell me.”
I want to move my hips but his grip tightens on them. Tears of frustration sting my eyes. I don’t want to give in to him. I don’t. I don’t want to yield, and I sure as hell don’t want to submit, but my body is making it too difficult to resist him.
Maybe if I wasn’t so sexually frustrated… Maybe if I had gotten to enjoy sex more than once a year, I’d have the strength or the fortitude to stand up to him.
But I don’t.
I just don’t have it.
I’m a weak, pitiful woman.
“It’s yours,” I whisper and it feels like I just ripped myself open.
“What is?” I hear him suck in a deep breath then he’s blowing a jet of hot air directly on my clit.
“My pussy,” I whine, my back arching.
“Whose pussy is this?”
“Your pussy!” I cry out and all at once I experience heaven.
His hot mouth completely covers my clit and sucks hard on it.
I’m so wet, so hot, all my bones turn to liquid.
Yes. I needed this. I needed this push to let go. I needed this excuse to surrender, to give up, even if it’s only for a moment.
Bliss, pure bliss flows through my veins. My blood is like lava; so hot it’s nearly boiling as it pumps straight to my sex.
My thighs lock around his head and he just keeps sucking and sucking. The throbbing is eased but it’s replaced by the most delicious pressure. His hands grab my thighs. His fingers dig into my skin as he spreads me wide open.
He growls and makes all these deep noises in his throat as he devours me. Then out of nowhere his teeth clamp down, pinching my clit.
I explode in a gush, crying out in surrender. All the little knots inside me that keep me together release.
I’m unbound. Free from all my constrictions.
His mouth moves. Lips and tongue working me over, making wet, sucking noises as he consumes me. Eating me up. No part of me is left untouched.
He sucks on my lips and dips is tongue into my tight entrance.
My orgasm seems to go on for an eternity and I’m all warm and fuzzy as I slowly float back down to my senses.
Lucifer gives my folds one last long lick and then his head pops up. His face is wet from me but his eyes are glowing and intense.
First his eyes go to my hands still gripping the sheet and he grins with satisfaction. My fingers are starting to cramp up now that I’m aware of them again so I release my grip on the sheet and flex them.
That satisfied grin remains on his lips as he slowly crawls up my body. And there’s just something about it that causes my heart to flutter behind my ribs.
“You can move your hands now, Lily,” he says, but I don’t know what else to do with them.
So I keep them planted on the bed.
Positioning himself above me, he reaches down, grabs me by my hair and tips my head back. Then his mouth is crushing against my mouth and I’m tasting myself on his lips.
“Do you taste how sweet you are?” he growls against my lips and then his tongue is thrusting inside my mouth.
Stroking against my tongue. Reawakening my neediness.
As he kisses me his knees nudge at my knees, and I’m so relaxed, so fuzzy, I obediently open for him.
The hot, velvety head of his cock nudges at my entrance and I gasp against his mouth, breaking the kiss.
Fingers loosening, he pets my hair back. His eyes capture my eyes, and he stares hard at me as he reaches between us.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he sighs, rubbing his cock against me, torturing my oversensit
ive clit as he slicks himself up with my juices.
My eyes start to roll back into my head and his fingers are tightening in my hair again.
“Look at me, Lily,” he demands, and I struggle to focus my eyes on him. “Look at me as I enter you.”
He pushes forward, slowly filling me up, stretching me inch by slow inch. I’m soaking wet and swollen after my orgasm but he’s so big I still feel that little pinch of resistance.
“God damn, you’re tight,” he says, his voice raw and his eyes strained as he buries himself deep inside me.
Bottoming out, he holds himself there, giving me a moment to adjust around him.
The hand that was helping guide his cock goes to the bed and he pushes up, gaze dropping to look between us.
Slowly, he withdraws, pulling himself out and then he slams himself back in.
My own gaze drifts down and I watch as his red, glistening cock disappears inside me. He’s so damn big I don’t even know how he fits.
Looking up, he catches me watching and then a mischievous grin stretches across his lips. Pulling back, he slides himself almost completely out of me and then he throws himself forward, filling me up with him.
My spine arches and this time I can’t stop my eyes from rolling back in my head. I cry out and reach up, grabbing at him, needing something to hold on to. Needing something to help me get through these intense sensations.
He’s so big, so thick, he’s touching every dark little spot buried inside me.
“Fuck,” he grunts, pulling himself out and then he slams back in.
There’s no mercy, no hesitation.
Just a barrage of pleasure, an attack on my senses.
It feels so fucking good. Deep down, I know it shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t give in but I’m just too weak to keep fighting it.
In and out, his velvety length glides inside me and he stares hard down at me, his eyes filled with possession.
At this point I just have to admit to myself I want this. I need this.
There’s this great big gaping hole I’ve been carrying around inside me, and right now he’s filling it.
“You fucking like it, don’t you?” he snarls above me and his pace increases.
He’s slamming himself in and out of me so hard, so fast, his skin begins to slap against my skin.
“You like me fucking you, don’t you Lily?” he grunts in exertion.
Yes, I like him fucking me.
“You were made to take my cock,” he grunts as the rocking of his hips increases. “Your little pussy was made for me to fuck. Wasn’t it?”
Yes, yes, yes.
Reaching down, he grabs my leg by the back of my knee and pulls it up, tilting my hips. His next thrust goes even deeper and he smashes against my clit.
“Fuck you feel good,” he grunts out.
He pulls back and pounds into me again.
It’s too much. Too much pressure, too much sensation. I’m overwhelmed, and as his cock strokes deep inside me, finding that buried bundle of nerves, I feel myself pushed into another plane of existence.
My world begins to turn white but even through the haze I’m aware of him snapping.
I don’t know what sets it off. Maybe it’s my sex gripping him, pulling him in. Maybe it’s because I can’t stop moaning his name and scoring my nails down his back.
“Fuck,” he snarls and his face is a mask of possession mixed with aggression.
He begins to fuck me hard and fast. He begins to fuck me like he hates me.
He fucks me like I hate him.
And I do hate him. I hate him for taking me. I hate him for keeping me prisoner.
Most of all I hate him for making me feel this.
His chin drops and his icy eyes glare at me.
I’d be afraid, I’d be terrified of him if it didn’t feel so good. I’m already trapped in the throes of an orgasm and it’s so incredible even his madness won’t ruin it.
He grabs my other leg and yanks it up. My thighs tighten around him and I lock my ankles behind his back.
“Mine,” he grunts, his weight coming down on top of me, sinking me into the bed. “You’re mine, dammit. Mine. Accept it.”
Another wave of bliss hits me, flowing through my body. But even as I’m lost in the pleasure, I shake my head. He can force me to come, he can use my body against me, but I won’t belong to him.
“Stubborn woman,” he snarls and his head bends down, his teeth sinking into my neck.
I cry out and jerk beneath him as the pain hits. My walls clamp down on his cock and his teeth slide out of my flesh.
Above me, he jerks, momentarily losing his rhythm, and his head tips back.
A roar blasts past his lips and then he’s driving himself into me furiously, like he’s literally trying to fuck me into submission.
Inside me I can feel him swelling and growing. Filling me with a hot stickiness.
Another intense wave of pleasure sweeps me up and I drown myself in the pleasure, letting myself be swept away in it.
The orgasm seems to go on and on and I savor every little second of it.
For this short time I can forget. For these few euphoric moments I’m not his prisoner, I’m not his possession.
I’m simply Lilith.
Too soon I begin to reconnect with myself, my body flipping back on all my senses.
I realize something soft and gentle is touching my face and blink up. Above me he’s stroking my cheek and looking down at me with the most tender look on his face.
That look… that look undoes me. An overwhelming surge of sadness hits my heart and my throat tightens up. Why does he have to look at me like that? Why is he making it so hard for me to hate him?
I burst into tears, hating myself because I’m weak. I’m fucking pathetic. Hating that I allowed him to make me feel all the good things I just experienced.
11
Lucifer
Acceptance is the first step in understanding your new reality. Acceptance that nothing in this world or the next will ever be the same. To me last night the clear tears streaming down her cheeks at the end were of acceptance.
Lying to myself about where I stand in things is not my style. I know Lilith will push things again, I know she will test me and herself. It’s in human nature. I just plan to be the rock she crashes against when she does.
“Lucifer, we have an issue,” Simon says to me as he knocks once on the door frame of the office I am sitting in.
Leaning back in my office chair, I can feel my mouth turning down in a frown. With Simon it’s never a good thing if he says we have an issue. He knows me, he knows to handle things unless they absolutely need my attention.
“I’ve been making calls and sending out feelers on the missing five million,” he says as he enters the office and shuts the door.
“What have you got?”
“It’s the same bullshit we’ve known for a while. O’Riley and Marshall got together for a new business venture. The new information is that it was to start a pipeline through the Midwest with coke and heroin. They had the Yakuza as their main suppliers.”
“Well that… how the fuck did that go wrong?” I ask. The Yakuza, in my experience, are deadly as fuck, but also pretty damn reliable. They promise something, it will happen. They deliver on the promise, no excuses.
“Looks like O’Riley fucked up. We don’t know the full details, but the Irish took an Italian boss, Carcinelly, out. Then they took out O’Riley, the boss who ordered the hit on the Italians… It’s a fucking mess over in Ohio right now. No boss for the Irish, a new one for the Italians, and hitmen running loose.”
“Fuck,” I mumble as I rub my temples slowly. Shit like that gives me ulcers. I don’t let destabilization like that shit happen around here. It breeds too much uncertainty. And I want to be damn sure of my business deals.
“So the Irish have my money?” I ask with a grimace; those fucks are just as crazy as the Russians. Especially the hitmen they use. As of now w
e don’t have an Irish mob around here, I like that. Having a Russian one is enough batshit nutcases for me.
“No,” Simon says with a frown.
“No? Well who has my five fucking million dollars then?”
“The Yakuza.”
“Shit, how do we know?”
“Because they took it during the war up there. Even bragged about it to those around them, least that’s what I am hearing. It seems like they are trying to make sure they haven’t lost any face on the issue. Still could be Marshall though.” Simon says, and I don’t doubt a word he has said to me.
Simon is my right hand for this exact reason, he has a nose for things. The man is like a bloodhound dog, he doesn’t stop tracking a scent until he has it up a tree.
“Do they know it’s my money?” I ask as I think about Marshall and how fucked up of a position he has me in.
“I’m not sure of that yet, but I am making small waves around the pond to see what comes up.”
“Where is Marshall so far with everything?”
“Drunk. Fall down passing out drunk in his shitty little world of self-appreciation. Seems he is bragging to a few people how he pulled one over on you. He’s been drinking and whoring for the last twenty-four hours.”
“With what money?” I ask with a growl.
“Credit cards and whatever he has in the banks.”
“Get his accounts closed or frozen, I want him broke as possible as by tomorrow morning.”
“Got it. What do you want me to do with the connection to O’Riley?”
I ponder that for a long moment. I know I can go to the Irish for restitution but they will more than likely play dumb on the whole situation. The question for me is do I want to go stirring the pot with them or with the Yakuza?
“Do the same thing for both the Yakuza and the Irish. Try the Italians as well. If nothing comes of them knowing it was my money that was lost see if we can set up a meet. Do not come off as a beggar, Simon. Let them know we expect answers to the questions we have.”
“Matthew, I don’t think we could afford a war on those fronts,” he says as he looks at me. He isn’t afraid to use my birth name with me, but he knows to only do it when he has to.
“We won’t be. Right now, I want more information on what exactly happened with the money and the drugs that it bought. Second, I want to know what the Irish are going to do with their new boss in place.”