Thrill Me (Teased and Broken Book 2)

by Ashley Black

My lips parted because I could feel the dark intensity of that man rolling toward me through that door. How? Was that an Enchantress thing laid dormant?

  Not wishing to reflect on an answer to that, I punched the panel, and stole quietly into the bathroom.

  I slunk down into the shadows because there was no steam to conceal my intrusion upon him.

  It indeed, appeared the poor man was having a cold shower.

  Crazy ass motherfucker.

  I was mesmerized watching him.

  At first I watched soap suds sluice down the huge span of his inked shoulders, and his scarred back. I helplessly stared at the bright tight globes of his butt.

  Shaking, he turned toward the obvious cold blast of the shower. His hair was flattened and looked so black against his paleness.

  Oh.

  My pussy stirred.

  He was so ridiculously hard.

  He bowed his head, and impossibly I heard his breathing through the rush of water.

  “Fuck,” he sighed. His trembling hand shot out and squeezed some soap from a dispenser embedded in the glittering grey tiles into his huge palm. He soaped, caressing his insane muscular chest, moving languidly to his sharp as knives abs, finally to close around the length of him, with a slow, deliberate thoroughness.

  He only thickened under his skilled soaping.

  I smiled, pressing a hand over my mouth to quiet my own panting.

  This was so rude of me! So incredibly intrusive! But wow! What a show!

  Thorn growled and tipped his head back. His hand full of soap suds and still gripped his heavy aroused stuffed cock.

  Was he thinking of me? I wondered, arrogantly, egomaniacally, crazily.

  Then he began to pull himself, slowly at first.

  Then his arm.

  Sweet Jesus!

  That huge, perfect, muscular arm became a perfect blur as he worked himself over.

  His hand slammed into the glass as he pumped himself urgently, desperately, like his life depended upon release.

  “Elena!” the roar that parted his lips was truly frightening.

  He punched the tiles in frustration.

  He still hadn’t been relieved.

  I was a mess between the legs watching him.

  I wanted to get in that shower to “help” him along.

  And then, he turned toward me.

  Oh shit! Oh fucking holy shit!

  His eyes were still closed, but he had a smile on his face.

  “Elena,” he cried a little dazedly. “Yes! Fuck YESSSSSSSS, Elena!”

  I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t. He was slapping his cock roughly now, as if beating it into submission would help, and then. He pumped it vigorously again with his fist. Letting loose, his huge body tilted back, head tipped, he released an ear splitting roar. “Elena!”

  Wow!

  He spurted all over the glass separating us.

  It was the prettiest cum I had ever seen.

  Seriously. His ejaculation flipping sparkled, as if his dick had thrown up glitter glue.

  I saw his huge shoulders drop on a sigh.

  Then he opened his eyes, and looked straight at me.

  I had to get out of there.

  Be gone Enchantress, be gone!

  Eleven

  Some rules were established, at least, in Thorn’s demented mind.

  Not mine.

  After I shamelessly perved on him relieving himself in the shower from my ‘enchantment of his cock’; Thorn had stormed into our strange museum exhibit glassed bed room in the cave. Black towel wrapped about his hopelessly sculptured waist, his energy already lashing at my skin like a whip of dark delicious intensity.

  I greeted this insane hot man wearing a white silk sheet from the bed I had fashioned about myself toga style, to which he had issued a short boom of laughter at.Tthen proceeded to lay down the rules.

  No enchanting of the cock.

  No undressing or unclothing myself unless he asked me to.

  No ‘servicing myself’ unless he was present to watch my unravelling.

  No touching him without his consent.

  Above all, no vanquishing him.

  Just when I had thought I had gotten away with my blatant dirty perve on him in the bathroom.

  “And especially no looking at me naked without my express invitation.” After he had shot this at me with a straight face, his dark expression had ignited in playfulness. “I do hope you enjoyed the show Enchantress.”

  “You knew I was there!” I had gaped at him and blushed furiously.

  He nodded, a slow sultry smile curving that mouth. “Of course I did, I could scent you, the sweetness of your arousal Elena. You were,” he was a blur of crazy movement, as he ripped the sheet from me and placed his palm over my pussy. His index finger giving her an experimental flick,“and still are, incredibly aroused.”

  I was speechless as he sucked his finger. Dark green eyes falling shut, long lashes shuddering as he released a moan of ecstasy. “Your friend Aaron was wrong,” he sighed.

  “Wrong?” my voice struggled over my lips. Why in the fuck was he bringing up my friend?

  Now?

  The fuck?

  “I don’t want to eat your heart Enchantress, I want to eat this!” He bowed down before me, roughly prying my legs apart. His hand slid up my stomach. He pushed gently, tilting me back slightly, and simply huffed out a breath over my twitching quivering lips. His mouth was just a warm shiver there.

  A tease of something more.

  He did it again.

  Just that breath.

  It must have been magic. Because it was unfair, what it did to me.

  I cried out as I felt an explosion of color and heat boom from the site of his mouth. Rippling to caress the very corners of my soul, if I still had one.

  Oh fucking … WOW!

  Thorn.

  “I want your pussy juice Enchantress, as much of it as I can take and you can gift.”

  He flashed a mischievous smile up at me, poked his tongue out and I felt myself falling away from me. Tears smarting my eyes, I screamed senselessly as he stroked that hard hot thing once, twice, and a third time hard over the nub of me.

  He unsealed his lips from mine and helped me into a seated position on the bed.

  I simply flopped backwards, biting down on my lip hard, and swallowed back a whimper.

  I was as good as fucked.

  I needed relief.

  I felt like I might explode. The pumping so hard and hot between my legs, my pussy protested angrily.

  She wanted that tongue back, yesterday.

  “Thorn!” I protested when he slammed my wrists together and cuffed them to the wrought iron headboard . “What the hell? What is this?”

  Snarling, he secured my ankles with rope.

  “Your punishment for looking upon me naked without invitation.”

  I wriggled, thrashed pointlessly, and glared at him. “You knew I was there, and yet you did not tell me to go. That is as good as an invitation you fuck stick.”

  He pressed a finger to my lips. “Hush, Elena, so obsessed with my cock aren’t you? Think about all it could be doing to relieve you as you ride out your frustration alone.”

  His dangerous, devastating mouth flexed into a grin. “Because I’m in a generous mood, here’s a parting gift to help that frustration along.”

  He winked and slid his tongue slowly along his flirty bottom lip.

  A flash of crazy movement and he was between my legs.

  “No!” I cried, arching my back as that tongue plunged deep inside of me. A sensuous hot thrust on maddening repeat, until it slowed to something far more maddening. He licked at me, slowly and indulgently, alternating the sensation of his tongue from pointed, to flat. That, combined with the friction from the round polished metal of his tongue ring, sent me into bliss overdrive. Oh … YES!

  He was insane.

  Hopping flipping mad.

  I loved it.

  I hated i
t.

  “Fuck you Thorn!” The desire was rolling fitfully in my belly, flaring in protest along my pelvis. My skin burned with exquisite pain and torment.

  I was a fucking mess.

  He gifted one last gratuitous lick with of hot, sinful tongue, as he lifted himself from between my wobbling thighs, lips shining. Only at the door he responded to my retort.

  “So greedy Elena. You have already fucked me in the most important of places.” He tapped his head, and then his hand rose to his chest, in the place I imagined his wild, monstrous heart to reside.

  “Best get over yourself, love.”

  ***

  I experienced a whiplash of emotions during the week spent in the cave and its surrounds before we hit the main city.

  Mostly, I hated Thornton Darko.

  What he called protection, I called enslavement.

  He kept me locked in the strange glass museum exhibit of a bedroom, and only allowed me out to accompany him on his many walks to find someone who could help us. I shivered to think what he meant by that help.

  I knew from Bob this was bigger than a few of his fuck-tard minions losing their shit and wanting to burn my witch ass at the stake.

  There was this man he refused to speak of. He had laughed when I told him about the strange dude with the red eyes and black face paint.

  “That ass clown, is that nameless man’s son. Wannabe Warlock shit head.”

  Still, Thorn had verily lost his shit that the Wannabe Warlock shit head had even dared come near me, much less had the audacity to gloat about Thorn’s demise and intimating that he might have something to do with it.”

  My death metal rock star had sneered at the idea that this ass clown, was a threat to him, that he had something to do with the ending of Thorn. He insisted I would be his end.

  It was during one of our walks for ‘help’ that Thorn had stopped, and looked around us. He had cast a truly uncharacteristic Thornton look. He looked nervous, scared even. I would say terrified, but my brain had flipped out over ‘nervous.’

  “What is it?” I asked gently.

  He looked at me keenly.

  “I’m afraid of you Elena,” Thorn’s gaze fell from mine. “I’m afraid of what they will make me do.”

  The mask he insisted on wearing, as always, on these walks, was a frustrating barrier between us.

  I reached up.

  He stayed my hand, dark green eyes lifting to my mouth. “Please,” his voice cracked. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Who are they Thorn?” I pressed, frustrated. Who was he running from? Was this all in my dark demonic rock star’s troubled mind?

  He bowed, lowering his masked head, and pressed it to my chest.

  The sudden coldness of it between my breasts was shocking. I bet he could FEEL my heart trying to punch him through that mask of his as it went verily berserk.

  This man broke my sanity. I had nothing left. I wanted to understand. All he gifted was mayhem.

  “I must lick your heart,” he said eventually. Because THAT made sense.

  I heard the playfulness in his tone, and in place of the cold unyielding rubber of the mask, his lips. He had rolled up the lower part of the mask to reveal that deadly and delicious mouth of his.

  “You really are a broken toy,” I sighed. “Yes,” he agreed. “Don’t ever forget it.”

  Aside from the man’s sanity at times, the little raven necklace deeply unsettled me. I hit a stone wall every time I tried to talk to him about it.

  I remember saying dully to him on one walk. “Why didn’t you just put the spell on the soul less raven yourself Thorn?’

  “Well, perhaps if I had been the one to do it, I wouldn’t be in the mess I am now.” His hands went up in his dark hair. “Because it’s just such a fucking mess Elena.”

  “So this warlock dude really fucked you over?” I was interested. I wanted to know more.

  Thorn nodded.

  “Why?”

  “That’s what I want to find out before I snap open his chest and eat of his heart.”

  He looked at me hard with his dark green eyes. “I mean this. I am serious. I may have lost my way with the dark arts, but that fucker is going to pay.” He was trembling as he said that. I wished he would tell me how the man had wronged him. Save to say, the little binding spell had not gone down as he had hoped.

  “Your dad told me you had killed for me,” I said quietly.

  Thorn’s expression had darkened. “Of course. I do what I must to protect you.” No more was said on the matter.

  I could only hope he had killed that shit-head Jimmy who had tried to take me and Thorn out with a blowtorch at the beach party that crazy ass night. Because that stupid, deranged little fucker deserved to die.

  Then, there were times I loved Thorn.

  Like the evening of the camp fire beneath all those stars, where he actually told me things about himself. His powers, how much he still had to learn about himself.

  I wanted to believe him.

  Sadly, I could not.

  I kept thinking back to how he had healed himself.

  All the lies he had already told me.

  The stab of unease about Brett’s death.

  While my mind and heart accepted Thornton Darko hadn’t been responsible, but rather, one of his lunatic followers for my Brett’s horrific demise. The unease persisted about his involvement.

  Still, I loved him when he opened up to me about his family. The blind worship of Satan. The little community they had smashed to pieces. Thorn had shared that the Pastor of the Village had nearly killed him because he believed that he was evil.

  ‘A demonic little prick he called me,’ Thorn had relayed with a scowl. Then sniggering, he took my hand and placed it over his crotch. “Not so little any more is he?”

  I had laughed. He coughed on a half laugh, and it was radiant. How happy he sounded. Lighter. I liked this side of him but also, his intensity. I liked how I didn’t know what to expect. He was the most beautiful kind of … prickly.

  Ahhhhhh.

  I loved him when he was creating his music.

  Fucking hot!

  He had an interesting process.

  Naked.

  He invited me to watch him if I wished it.

  So beautiful how his gaze had slid to the floor when he asked this of me, in a low dark voice, the slightest of blushes tinging his face.

  Hell yes! I wasn’t missing the naked Thornton Darko show. The dynamic intensity of him. That crazy physicality.

  Naked.

  Fuck yes.

  He had seemed uncertain and doubtful at first, when I simply sat and stared at him.

  “You aren’t going to try to write? What about our book Tease Me? I want that finished woman and shipped to your editor.”

  I had stifled a laugh behind my hand. “Done.”

  He did not look impressed. “I haven’t even seen it.”

  “You told me you couldn’t read my ‘shit’!” I reminded him on a snide laugh.

  “This story is about us Elena.” He had prowled toward me naked, I had yelped and darted across the room.

  “What are you writing now?” he folded his arms across his chest and glowered.

  “The sequel to Tease Me.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Vanquish me.”

  Sweet Jesus, the look on the man’s face.

  I was going to get myself killed.

  I needed to stop teasing him.

  It’s just. I couldn’t. I was addicted.

  He had hissed in disgust and slammed some headphones over his ears. His legs spread wide. Given the package that nested between his powerful thighs I guess it was more comfortable for him. He had hunched over a lap top at a glass desk facing me.

  And I just watched him.

  Mesmerized.

  He was all the inspiration I needed.

  I was itching to write, but I wanted to watch him.

  Possibly.

  Forever
.

  He broke into song.

  His voice … fuck me, it was impossibly beautiful.

  He typed like a frenzied thing. I didn’t think it were possible to type that fast.

  He would rise and startle me with a roar and then spontaneously start thrashing his head. Black hair flying in a head bang, smashing his balled right fist down on his right thigh. I could see he was in some kind of rapture.

  Lost in another world.

  I loved him in these moments.

  I loved … him.

  But I was his prisoner.

  Or was I?

  There was some demented Warlock who had fucked him over with the spell they had gifted on the soulless Raven necklace that bound Thorn to me. How dangerous was that person to mess with Thornton Darko, a powerful Warlock?

  There were his minions who very much wanted me dead.

  There was this nameless man who he was afraid of that had possibly fucked him up as a child.

  He was very protective of me.

  And he was …. a rather intense person.

  Hiding out in the caves for awhile in light of the sinister bad ass that lay before us, seemed … like not the most ridiculous and outrageous plan.

  Damn it though, I was grieving.

  When Thorn was near me I almost forgot that.

  Brett.

  Dead.

  Gone.

  I wanted vengeance.

  I wanted folk impaled.

  And Gods help Thornton Darko if he had anything to do with the death of Brett Argosy.

  These thoughts kept looping in my mind as I awaited Thorn on the bed, trying to stay focused on my book edits, but my gaze kept dropping to the flimsy lacy negligee that now clung to my body, and the note he had left atop the garment.

  Wear Me …. Please? It would please a prick.

  He had drawn a smiley face with narrowed, evil motherfucking eyebrows. It was hilarious. I laughed out loud.

  Something big was going down tonight.

  I tried to ignore the dull ache that hummed between my legs at the realization.

  I had been futilely looking at my “dumb” phone again (given I had no access to the outside world on it). Impossibly I received a message from Clarissa! She had received my last message begging for her help.

  The bitch had come through for me.

  And I was grateful.