Текст книги "The poison daughter"

Автор книги: Sheila Masterson

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Текущая страница: 36 (всего у книги 48 страниц)

48HARLOW

The moment I step back into my bedroom after dinner, I’m aware that I’m not alone.

Henry has been gone for hours, and I know it’s not him rifling through the closet.

Gaven still isn’t back from his single-minded mission of finally figuring out what’s in the recovery room, and Kyrin has been out hunting all day. I’m on my own, and I immediately regret agreeing to stay inside until Henry was finished with the hunt ceremony.

I strain to listen. Dread settles in my stomach, churning up my dinner. The room is dark except for the freshly stoked fireplace. Nothing appears out of place.

The rustling in the closet continues.

I place the book I just borrowed from the library gently on my bed and remove the poker from beside the fireplace as quietly as possible. Tiptoeing to my closet, I peek around the corner.

The noise continues from beyond the adjoining bathroom, but I can’t see anyone. I walk through the bathroom and pause at the door to Henry’s closet.

The safe room door is open, and the sound is coming from inside.

I spring forward, brandishing the poker like a sword.

But it’s not Stefan or one of his friends lurking inside. It’s my maid. Cora’s trembling hands are raised in surrender.

I stare at her, trying to figure out how she is in a room that’s supposed to be spelled so only I can enter.

“I’m so sorry to frighten you, miss,” Cora says. “Mr. Havenwood asked me to clean the whole suite, and he said that if you weren’t here, you were probably in the library. I certainly didn’t mean to give you such a fright.”

“How did you get in?” I ask. “This is my safe room. It’s supposed to be spelled so that only I can use it.”

Cora’s brow furrows in confusion, and then she smiles. “Oh no, miss. You must have misunderstood. The room isn’t spelled for a specific person. This room keeps out the bloodthirsty. No Returned allowed.”

The whole world tilts. The only thing keeping me on my feet is a lifetime of dealing with these sudden surges of adrenaline. Every nerve in my body is screaming to run, but this is not my home. I don’t know every alley and passageway in the fort. All I know are two ways out.

Trying to make it to the main gates and then through them without any sort of diversion is borderline impossible. I haven’t been here long enough for Henry to teach me the intricacies of their escape routes and evacuation plans. I only have what I absorbed on my run with him. And that doesn’t even take into account the fact that I’d then have to race through the Drained Wood alone at night.

I have to take my chances with the mountain caves. I don’t know where they dump out, but it has to be somewhere that I can find help, and I’m almost certain it’s not going to lead me out into a forest full of Drained.

Cora is still staring at me, her hands up in surrender. I need to be careful not to tip anyone off.

“Divine forgive me! I’m so sorry for scaring you,” I say, forcing false joviality into my voice. “I completely misunderstood when he described the room to me. I thought because of the blood lock that only I could get in.”

Cora relaxes and holds up her bloody pointer finger. “Oh, that’s an easy mistake to make. There are a few of them around the manor. The lock works for any of us who aren’t the Returned. Sometimes they get carried away when they’re feeding. Most of it is really well-monitored in the recovery room. There are guards who are responsible for watching feedings to make sure donors are safe, but you know how it is,” Cora says conspiratorially. “Sometimes when they feed in private—during more intimate moments, things can get a bit out of hand. Carter and Bryce have never had that issue, though—I’m sure you’ve seen. And from what I’ve heard, Henry has impeccable control, so I’m sure he just gave you this room so you’d feel safe. Not to mention that if there was another attack and breach of the wall, you would be able to hide in here and be safe from the Drained.”

She looks at me expectantly, and I realize I’ve been silent for too long.

“That makes sense. I think it’s just the terminology that throws me. I didn’t know about the Returned until I got here,” I say, forcing lightness into my voice.

Cora smacks a hand to her head. “Of course. You’re from the city, so you’re more familiar with the old term. You probably call them Deathless.”

The Returned are Deathless. She means all the people Evangeline Havenwood brought back to life are like the people from the story I heard at the Raining Star Bar.

My heart is pounding so hard, I’m worried she’ll hear it.

“Of course.” I smile brightly. “So this room will keep out Henry and Carter and Bryce.”

She nods and lowers her hands. “And lots more of them.”

I grip the poker in my hands tighter, fighting the urge to ask just how many blood thirsty predators I have been casually interacting with since coming to the fort. “Well, I apologize again for frightening you, Cora. I think I’ll treat myself to a stroll through the gallery, so I’ll leave you to your cleaning.”

She smiles. “Of course. You’ve had so much to learn in your new role married to the heir. I’m always happy to answer any questions.” She turns to her bucket of water and starts to wipe down the door handle.

I walk back into my bedroom with my heartbeat swooshing in my ears.

Run. The instinct is so strong, I can think of nothing but that. Run. But I can’t just sprint. It will attract too much attention. I need to go slowly and be smart.

I reach for my coat, then realize that wearing it will tip off anyone who sees me that I’m planning to go outside. It’s best to just go as I am. I take a moment to swap my silk slippers for boots and tuck my blade into my right boot.

When I poke my head out of my room, Gaven is still not back from his snooping. I don’t want to leave him behind, but if I start poking around the recovery room looking for him, I know I’ll at least run into the guards there. Now that I know what goes on in there, I’m less inclined to explore.

I hustle down the hallway and descend the back stairwell to the first floor. If I go out the doors in the art wing, I’ll be closest to the cave entrance, but I’ll still have to sprint a couple of miles. With this much adrenaline pumping through my blood, that won’t be a problem.

The Kennymyra sculptures loom in the shadows. Their veils are back tonight, and they rustle as I walk briskly down the hall toward freedom. Just as the courtyard exit comes into sight, I hear voices from around the corner.

The gallery is the only door between me and my escape. I press my finger to the lock, and it clicks open. I duck inside and close the door, glimpsing the shifting painting across from the doorway in the second before it closes.

Backing into the room, I listen to the voices grow louder. Footsteps echo on the stone floor. Immediately, I recognize Henry’s voice. I hold my breath, watching as the shadows pass in the crack beneath the door.

I don’t allow myself to breathe again until a full minute after the hall has fallen silent.

The gallery is almost fully dark. The only light comes from pillar candles on a table a few feet in front of the gallery wall. In the dim light, the shifting paintings feel menacing. I turn and walk back to the door, pressing an ear against the wood to listen.

The second my ear presses flush, the wooden door draws away.

I nearly fall into the hallway, but Henry catches my arm.

He’s changed into sleek black pants and a dark red button-down. His hair is damp, hanging over his forehead. What was he doing that he needed to bathe after? Did he participate in the hunt?

I search for some sign of the monster within. When he grins, there’s no flash of sharp teeth, just the handsome, easy smile of the best liar I’ve ever met.

He looks at me and then over my shoulder into the gallery. “What are you doing here?”

My mouth goes so dry, and my brain bounces between explanations, all of them sounding too stiff in my head. “You told me to entertain myself until you came back. I stayed inside. What are you doing here?”

He steps into the room, ushering me inside with him. “I smelled you.”

“Smelled me?” My blood. He smelled my blood on the lock because I’m an idiot who didn’t wipe it clean.

Now I’m stuck. I have to stay. I have to pretend.

A cold sweat breaks out on my skin. I just need to calm down and it will be fine. He doesn’t know anything.

“It’s very dark for looking at art,” Henry says.

“That’s why I was leaving. I couldn’t find any more candles.”

He eyes me suspiciously, then crosses the room to a basket tucked into the far corner of the space. He pulls out a few more pillars, lights them using the existing flames, and places them on the table beside the others.

I have no choice but to step up beside him and look at the art. Immediately, it begins to shift. I try hard to steady myself. To force my mind to anger, or calm, or anything but fear.

My heart is pounding so hard, I feel faint. He can probably see my heartbeat pulsing in my neck. It’s probably making him hungry.

Bleeding woods! I need to calm down and get him to go away. I need a head start. In any other circumstances, I might try to play along for the night and sneak out next time he steps away for some official business. But I’m too jumpy and agitated, and he will know that something is off if I can’t get rid of him.

For years, I’ve trained myself to appear okay in impossible circumstances, but every bit of that training fails me now. I cannot master myself standing next to a man who wants to drink me dry.

“Harlow.”

He knows. I can tell from the overly calm way that he says my name. I don’t know how he’s figured it out until I glance up at the painting again. The frame in front of us has shifted into something that looks like a set of vicious teeth.

I finally meet his eyes.

“You know.”

He lunges for me, but I duck and swipe the blade from my boot. All I have is speed and the element of surprise.

When he comes at me again, it’s the reflex of a lifetime of training with Gaven that helps me deflect his attempt to grab my arm. I plunge my blade between his ribs.

There’s a reason I don’t kill this way. The sickening feeling of my metal sliding through his flesh, of my hand pulling it free as blood pours from the wound—that feeling makes my stomach lurch, but I do it again for good measure.

Then, I turn and run. The last sound I hear before I slip out of the gallery is the sound of Henry’s body hitting the floor.

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49HARLOW

Iclose the last few feet of open space before the woods behind Havenwood House at a full sprint. I wait to hear footsteps pursuing me or alarm bells—anything that might alert people to my escape—but there’s nothing but the scratch of branches overhead.

Moonlight casts creeping shadows on the ground, but I’m running so fast I barely have time to register them.

Low branches tear at my hair as I sprint through the forest, feet pounding, dirt flying up behind me in clumps.

The thing about surviving the inevitable horrors is knowing you’ll be there at the end with all the worst monsters who have done whatever it takes to endure.

I can’t believe it was just a few nights ago that Henry lay beside me on the bathroom floor and stroked my back while I cried and writhed in pain. I can’t believe I knew he was a grifter when I met him but I let my guard down anyway. I can’t believe I’m still dumb enough to trust a man.

I used to think I was justice, but now I’m afraid I’m just the soft touch born of many brutal beatings. Henry was so gentle. Some stupid, indestructible part of me wanted to believe that was the real him.

He made me remember what it is to want. He summoned this forgotten longing to press my chest against someone else’s and whisper, “Love me”—as if one command from my lips could summon enough devotion to fill my hollow ribs.

This mistake is an echo of every failed attempt at intimacy—of being so knife-edged that no lover could touch my heart without coming away bloody. I remember how badly I wanted a love I could feel. And then I learned not to want that because pain is a feeling, too.

Thank Divine Harvain I’m getting out now. If ever there was a time for good fortune, this is it.

My body is alive and energized from the run, but a squeal in the trees to my left draws me up short.

Bleeding woods! It’s hunt night.

In my rush to flee, I forgot. I’m in the hunt territory and wearing this stupid white dress, which means I’m fair game for anyone looking for prey.

Henry’s warning about Stefan echoes through my mind. Is Stefan also out here, hunting for blood?

I bite back a hysterical laugh as I spin, trying to get my bearings. There’s no simple way back to Lunameade. I have to go for speed, and if all else fails, I have my dagger still clenched in my fist.

My body springs into action, legs churning to propel me toward the mountain wall. I wish I weren’t wearing this flimsy dress that keeps tangling in my legs and snagging on thorns and branches.

It was always going to be like this. Running was the first survival skill I learned. I’ve been doing it for years—circling the garden perimeter with Gaven at my side, taunting me to go faster or do just one more lap.

The thought of Gaven sends my head spinning. He always seems to find me eventually, but now he’s probably just as at risk as I am.

Wild fear pumps through my blood. I doubt Henry is dead. For all my imagining, I still don’t know how to kill him. If I had something bigger than a dagger, I could have at least tried disembowelment.

A shiver creeps up the back of my neck. Someone’s close. I feel it before I hear it—the heavy sense of eyes on me—of being prey stalked by a predator.

My heart pounds and my blood rushes in my ears, the fear wild and completely uncontrollable.

An arm catches me around the waist and a hand clamps over my mouth and muffles my startled shriek. My back slams against a hard chest and my blade goes flying from my hand.

“You fucking stabbed me.” Henry’s voice is low and full of menace, but I go limp with relief.

My husband chuckles. The sound is bitter. “Oh, no. I’m not deliverance, lovely. I am that from which there is no escape. Not anymore.”

I try to scratch at him, but I can’t find any of his skin.

“You wanted to be caught, didn’t you?” He yanks my hair to bare my neck and brushes his lips over my thundering pulse.

“I wanted to kill you. Was my blade in your chest not obvious enough?” I snap.

He smiles against my skin. “You’re too well-trained to have missed my heart.”

“You’d have to have a heart to be maimed by such a blow. I aimed elsewhere in the hope of hitting something more vital.”

He sighs into my ear. “And yet that is an end I’ve met before and cannot meet again, thank the Divine.”

I stop my fighting. “They stabbed you in the heart?”

“They did what they had to.”

I squirm, but his arm wrapped around my ribs has me in an almost bruising hold and his other hand is fisted in my hair.

“There’s no getting away now.” He clicks his tongue. “I told you never to run from me, Harlow. I know which story you heard at the Raining Star Bar.”

The meaning of his words hits me. My mind flies to the tale of the hunt and the biting and the public fucking—the complete possession. Henry is Deathless, and he’s caught me here during a hunt. They aren’t mindless animals like the Drained, but they still have a wild side and a taste for blood.

I shake my head—because as exhausted as I am, as afraid as I am, I’m more curious and exhilarated. I’m not ready to stop fighting.

“If I drink from you now, you’re mine.”

I shudder against him, warmth rushing through my body in a mixture of hate and desire. How these two feelings can be so close and so conflicting is beyond my comprehension.

Henry skims his nose from the junction of my shoulder up my neck, breathing me in. “Is that why you ran out here on a hunt night, Harlow? You wanted me to claim you. You wanted to belong to me, but you couldn’t say it.”

“I hate you,” I growl.

“Hmm. Perhaps you wanted someone else to claim you. Should I leave you here and see who comes to taste you? You only have to say the word and I won’t do this.”

I still. He’s giving me a way out.

It’s on the tip of my tongue. Stars. I could surrender here, and for all his lies, I know he would master this animal side of himself. But I don’t want to.

He chuckles. “Oh, you don’t like that idea? That’s good because I’m going to fuck you into the ground and sink my fangs into you when you come.” I shiver, clenching my thighs together, and Henry wrenches my head back farther so his dark blue eyes meet mine. “Do you know the only thing that tastes better than blood laced with fear?” He nips at my neck, not enough to break the skin, but enough to make me twitch. “Blood laced with pleasure and fear, and I want all of yours. You’ve stabbed me and made me chase you out here and now I’m going to take what I want.”

I want to run. I want to stay right here. I want him to claim me, and also I want to take my chance in the Drained Wood.

“If you hadn’t stabbed me, I would have let you run, made a game of it—maybe I wouldn’t have fucked you,” Henry growls. “Maybe I wouldn’t have made it official, but now I’ve lost a bunch of blood and I’m hungry and your scent has been torture since we met.”

Goosebumps rush along my skin as his breath ghosts over the pulse point in my neck.

“Should I bite you here?” he murmurs.

He releases my head and slides his hand slowly down the front of my body, cupping my right breast. “Or here? I know how you love when I bite your nipples.”

His hand continues its slow path down my stomach, over my hip, until he grabs my inner thigh. “Or here. I think that will be your favorite.”

“Let me go,” I rasp, but it doesn’t even sound convincing to me.

I don’t want to give him this win. How can I have escaped my parents’ control only to end up in someone else’s? Can I not just be free?

And yet, being with him doesn’t feel like a trap. I know better, but I am so tired of fighting, and I can’t even begin to touch the betrayal I feel that he kept this from me. I feel like I’ve wandered into the forest too far and can’t find my way out. This is so dangerous and I want it.

Henry spins me suddenly and pulls me into a kiss. I want to scratch and claw at him—to shove him away and run forever—pursued but not caught. Instead, I kiss him back. I open, letting him take what he wants. His shirt is slick with his blood. I press against the place I stabbed him. I want to hurt him in any way I can. I want him to feel sorry.

Henry groans and kisses me harder.

I have never met a man who liked this monstrous side of me. This is what I’ve wanted the whole time. Not the soft, delicate things. I want this raw, unbridled need.

He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. He slams my back into a tree trunk, and I bite his lip hard enough to draw blood. I lick it away, and that breaks all of his control.

“Fuck, Harlow,” he groans, kissing down my neck, rocking his hips against me. “I can’t be gentle.”

But I don’t want gentle.

He shoves a hand under my dress and rips my panties away before fumbling with his pants. A second later, his cock is pressed against me. He rubs it over my clit, and I shudder. I swear it feels different, but he just waits.

“Anything to say, lovely?”

It takes my brain a full minute to understand he’s giving me a chance to say the word and stop him. Stars. The part of me that wants control above anything else screams the safe word in my head.

But the stronger part of me that wants so badly to surrender just once wins.

Henry searches my face for any hesitation. I narrow my eyes, and that’s all it takes. That small hint of a challenge and he thrusts his cock inside me to the hilt. I grunt a guttural sound from being overwhelmed by the fullness. Something is different—he’s big, but not the kind of big that edges on painful.

“Does it ache?” Henry asks with a smug smile that shows off a hint of sharp fangs. “Claiming makes the teeth come out and my cock swell. I’m in my full form for you, teeth, cock, and all. So I can be sure there’s no part of you I don’t reach.”

He offers no time to adjust, immediately pulling out and thrusting in again. His hands on my hips are bruising, holding me in place and forcing me to take every inch of him.

There’s a satisfied, glazed look in his eyes, like he knew I’d be wet enough to take him, but it makes me hotter that he wants me so much that he doesn’t care. It feels good to be out of control—to let Henry take over. His sharp teeth scrape down my neck, and my whole body clenches.

Henry grunts a curse.

There’s something about being able to control the pain in my body, to see the place it’s coming from, to feel it given with pleasure. I’m not in control, but somehow choosing to surrender makes me feel powerful. This is a thing I can choose to give away without risking losing something, or maybe it’s that I’m losing something I never wanted.

Henry growls into the curve of my neck as he picks up his pace. My skin is covered in goosebumps, my nipples so sensitive they ache. Pleasure rushes through my blood. It’s freeing to be wanted like this, to be taken without judgment.

With no warning, Henry spins and takes me to the ground. He pulls back for a moment and rips my white dress down the center, baring the green lace undergarments.

He pauses to take me in, his eyes passing slowly over the lace. He yanks the cups down and tweaks my nipples. I arch off the ground and groan, and his grin turns feral. Then he strikes, biting my right nipple.

My scream turns into a groan as he thrusts into me and sucks the nipple hard. He does the same thing to the left nipple, and I’m stunned with pleasure and pain and fear that I’m his now. I wait for something to happen—some sign that I’m not myself.

“I didn’t draw blood,” he says, pinching the sore flesh.

He pulls back and thrusts into me, his gaze fixed to where we’re joined. He does it again, harder, and I slide along the leafy ground, twigs and stones scraping the backs of my arms.

“You look so good taking me like this.”

I should be freezing in the cold night, but I’m burning up, lust coursing through my blood at the wild pleasure of being wanted like this.

A twig breaks somewhere to our left, and I turn to squint into the darkness.

Henry leans over me, pushing my left leg higher and sliding into me deeper. My pussy clenches so hard.

“That’s right,” he whispers in my ear. “Anyone is welcome to watch. Does that make you hot, Harlow? Someone watching me fuck you?”

I clench harder around him, and he growls into my collarbone.

“You’re mine now, and I’m never letting you go—but maybe I’ll let someone else use you for a bit when I’m done.”

The thought of Henry letting someone else fuck me—of him watching someone else use me—makes me so hot. I’m dripping down my thighs.

“Oh, you like that? Maybe I’ll let the lot of them take turns using you until I’m ready to fill you up again?”

I moan loudly.

“Not tonight, lovely. Tonight, you’re mine alone to use however I like.”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I like that idea. I want to belong to someone—to be taken care of—and I don’t think I could take tenderness. Perhaps that’s what always felt discordant in my relationship with Bea. She was so gentle with me when I needed her to be as harsh and demanding as the rest of the world.

Henry can meet me where I am. His violence isn’t happening to me. It’s happening for me. He understands implicitly what I can take and what I can’t, and I am terrified of him—not because he’s a monster, but because he knows me.

I’m so close, every muscle in my body wound tighter than ever before. I feel like I’m going to break, but Henry doesn’t let up.

He groans into my neck. “Let go, lovely. You’re going to come and make it official. I want to claim you.”

I’ve been fighting it so hard because it’s what I do. I fight.

According to the story, when I come, he’ll bite me and then I’ll be his. The pleasure in my body is so intense, my vision is growing dotted. I’m right on the edge of a climax.

Henry’s teeth slice into my neck, the sharp sting stealing my breath. His canines withdraw, and he closes his lips over the puncture and draws my blood into his mouth. He shudders. The pain of the bite mixes with the strange tingling pleasure of being taken so completely, and I cry out as the orgasm washes over me.

He sucks harder on my neck, and pleasure races through my bloodstream, his hips pumping faster to draw out my release. My legs shake so violently I can barely keep them locked around his hips, but he thrusts into me harder. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, going on and on so long that my feet cramp and my body goes limp.

Henry groans, his hips jerking more erratically as he comes.

The two of us lie there, limbs tangled, hearts slowing. Warm blood trickles from the wound on my neck. Henry laps at it gently.

“Mine,” he growls, taking another long pull of my blood.

My pussy clenches again, and he shudders.

He chuckles into my neck. “Oh, was that not enough? Don’t worry. I’m not even close to being finished with you.”

I hate how smug he sounds. He licks up my neck and presses a kiss to the bite. The tingly feeling of his healing rushes over my skin, followed by the itch. He healed the bite.

“I only did it so I can get that same reaction when I bite you again,” he murmurs in my ear. “Maybe I’ll let some of the others bite you, too. Maybe I’ll make you fuck them.”

I clench around him again, and he chuckles. “Such a greedy little wife. But not tonight. Not while I’m claiming you. I’m going to fuck that idea right out of your head.” He draws back and grabs my chin so I meet his eyes. “No one can do for you what I can.”

I shouldn’t push. He looks barely sated, still half-crazed, but I can’t help myself.

I lick my lips and smile. “Only one way to find out.”

His jaw ticks, and I expect him to bite me again. But a slow grin spreads over his face.

A strange feeling hits me in the chest. At first, I don’t recognize it. It feels like tingling, but then it sinks lower, rushing through my blood. It’s an ache—a need.

He clicks his tongue in mock concern. “What’s the matter, lovely? Feeling the effects of being mine? Did I forget to mention that claiming can be a bit of an aphrodisiac? It will be more intense if I bite you again.”

Suddenly, I’m ravenous for him. I need his touch everywhere. I need him to bite me all over. I need him to consume me. Lust courses through me, burning like a fever, and I arch into him.

I hate him so much, and also, I’m ready to get on my knees and beg for him to do anything he wants to me.

He draws out of me and I whimper at the emptiness. I want to cry, and also, I want to strangle him for making me so needy.

“Kneel like a good little wife,” he taunts.

My body is trembling, my limbs wrung out from running and fucking, but I force myself up to kneel before him in supplication with my tattered dress hanging from my arms.

“Beg.”

Even through the claiming haze, my defiance breaks through. “No.”

“Beg me to fuck your smart mouth or I’ll leave you aching and writhing in the dirt all night.”

“I know how to take care of myself,” I growl, sliding my hand between my legs to try to ease the ache.

“None of that unless I allow it. You’re mine and I decide when and how you get your pleasure.”

Lust rushes through me. I am so disgusted with myself and so turned on. I don’t know how he knows these dark things that I don’t even know about myself, but I have never been so aroused in my life.

“Take off those shreds of clothing and open your mouth.” His voice is low, commanding, and I rush to obey.

I slide the dress off so I’m naked before him.

“Good girl,” he chides. I hate how the affirmation sends a shiver of pleasure through my body. “Hands behind your back.”

I do as he says, and he cups my cheek and tilts my chin up. His other hand tugs on my hair. The pain is grounding, cutting through the lusty haze.

Suddenly, I feel eyes on me from all sides. I can only see shadows in the darkness, but I know they’re there, watching. That awareness sends a rush of wet heat between my thighs, and I shift, trying to get some friction.

“You’d let them watch your wife naked?” I challenge.

“They like to watch a claiming—to know how much of you I own. They like to watch you struggle when you know deep down you want to belong to me. They like to see a proud woman humbled by need.” He grins and strokes his still-hard cock. “And so do I. Now open your mouth.”

I obey, staring at his enormous cock.

“Take a breath.”

I take a breath, and then he thrusts his cock in deep. It’s almost too big—my jaw aches from being forced so wide. I fight the urge to gag, holding his gaze as my eyes water. He holds himself in my throat.

“Divine damn me, that feels good,” he groans.

He draws out, and I sputter, then he thrusts back in again.

He fucks my mouth mercilessly, like he did my pussy. His roughness just keeps making me hotter and hotter. My skin feels too tight. I need to please him as badly as I need to be touched. My breasts ache, nipples painfully hard.

He groans, deep and guttural, and I almost come just from the sound of his satisfaction.

He thrusts again and holds himself there. My eyes burn with tears, and the urge to pull away, to draw in breath, grows more intense by the second. My vision grows spotty, but I stay where I am. He tightens his grip in my hair as if afraid I’ll draw away, but I don’t want to.

Finally, he pulls out, and I sputter and gasp for air before he thrusts back in deep.

He repeats it again and again, taunting me with his control, with my desire to please him, with the insane lust coursing through my body. He starts pumping faster and harder, his movements frenzied. Both hands come to the back of my head. He thrusts in as deep as he can go and grunts as he spills down my throat.

I swallow as much as I can. He slowly pulls back, taking a few shallow pumps as he curses and pulls my hair harder. I am right on the edge of finishing with him, but I feel too painfully empty.

I lick him clean, holding his gaze as I drag my tongue up his shaft.