The mirrors allow me a full view of all the others covering his body—down both arms and his entire back. All beautiful and expertly done.
"You didn't tattoo over any of your scars," I observe quietly, brushing my finger over the dragon's face. In fact, it looks like the tattoos deliberately evade the raised flesh.
"I don't hide from my failures."
His failures aren't the only thing that make his body beautiful. He's packed to the brim with muscle but not too bulky. His physique makes it very clear he can kill you with his pinky without looking like he takes steroids for breakfast.
And as if that doesn’t turn my knees to jelly, the thick veins roping from his neck, down to his thick corded arms, and to his massive hands are my undoing.
He’s… fucking phenomenal.
Carefully, he watches me, the intensity in his eyes blazing as I study him. He's nearly vibrating beneath my slow perusal, so I move on and resume my torture. It takes a total of zero seconds before he’s bristling with the need to fuck me.
I feel so much power in my fingertips, I can’t imagine how much power I’d have if I loved him.
With every inch of his skin revealed, I grow shakier and wetter. It’s not fair for someone to be so perfect, marred and scarred as he is. If anything, the obvious abuse his body has endured only makes him that much more edible.
I choke on air when I pull down his pants, his hard cock jutting out from the confines of his jeans. It will never get any less intimidating, no matter how many times I see it.
Not unless I suddenly accept death via dick one day.
When he’s entirely naked, I take a big step back from him and look around. I stare at him from every angle the mirrors provide, just like he did with me.
Thick thighs, tight round ass, and a defined back that I want to rub myself all over, and the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen.
I want to run away. Far, far away.
This man is going to ruin me after tonight. I can taste it on my tongue.
“Are you scared?” he asks in another dark whisper. He’s staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Yes,” I answer truthfully.
He smiles, and the sight nearly brings me to my knees.
It’s not right—how beautiful he is. He’s definitely the fucking Devil. I’m sure of it now more than ever.
“You should be,” he says, his voice lilted with danger.
I take another step back, but he doesn’t move to stop me.
“Get on your knees, little mouse,” he orders darkly. I pause, unsure if I should listen or find the common sense I dropped somewhere on the way into the House of Mirrors and run.
“Don’t make me ask twice,” he growls, his face dropping to a severe expression. He tilts his jaw down, glaring down at me.
The danger in his face scares me, and my juices dampen my thighs in response.
“I don’t want you to ask me,” I say slowly. Confusion flits across his eyes for a brief second, and I show him exactly what I mean at that moment.
I turn and start to run.
But he’s too fast. His hand snaps out and wraps around my hair, yanking me backwards.
A sharp gasp escapes as I go weightless. He manages to twist my body so I land painfully on my knees. Just like we both wanted.
“You like it when I force you?” he snarls, yanking my head back until I’m looking up at him. His cock brushes against my cheek, warning me of what’s coming.
“You like being a bad little girl, don’t you? You like to defy me because you love it when I scare you. You’re a silly little girl playing with fire,” he taunts, a cruel snarl on his face.
Tears prick my eyes from the force of him holding my hair. Burning, just like the inferno of ire and lust in his eyes. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think there’s a blaze of fire behind me, reflecting in his mismatched eyes.
“Tell me, little mouse, have you ever been fucked by a man like me?”
“Better,” I hiss, the dormant hate for him reawakening. Something very dark and dangerous shutters over his eyes. He arches that damn brow, and I immediately shrink in on myself.
It was a lie. We both know it.
That’s the first thing I learned when I was put in Catholic school as a child. Good girls don’t lie.
The second lesson is don’t trust the Devil and his influence. But what they forgot to mention is not to piss him off once you’ve been influenced.
Maybe because that’s common fucking sense.
My lip trembles as I berate myself for being so stupid. The bitterness and distrust are still churning beneath the surface. I don't know why I thought I could let him dominate and fuck me without fighting back.
He’ll kill me before I ever fall in love with him.
“Open your fucking mouth, bad girl. Right now, before I suffocate you on my cock.”
This time, I listen. The second my lips part, he’s forcing the tip past my lips and straight to the back of my throat.
He hisses through his teeth, followed by another feral growl. I whimper and then gag when he forces his dick deeper. He’s hardened steel wrapped in silky satin, but the smoothness does little to ease the pain.
He’s too thick and too long for my small mouth.
Tears instantly flood my eyes and spill over as he keeps forcing himself deeper. Instinctively, my hands grip his thick thighs, pushing against him.
As quick as a snake, he snatches both of my hands up and grips them together in one hand, and resuming the hold on my head with the other. He holds my hands up high and against his stomach. It looks like I’m a woman praying on my knees, my hands bound together as I worship the devil himself.
“This is what you wanted, right?” he growls. “Fucking suck it. Now.”
I do as he says, if it means he’ll ease up. I suck hard, hollowing out my cheeks and smoothing my tongue over the thick vein on the underside of his length.
“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, finally allowing me to ease back. But in seconds, he’s pulling me back in. Guiding my head back and forth as I continue to suck him. Muttered words of encouragement and deep groans of pleasure fall from his lips while he grows more forceful. With every syllable and moan that leaves his lips, I grow more desperate to please him. To correct my mistake.
“Let’s see. Greyson Parker, he was better, huh?” My eyes widen, confused how he knows him and dreading where this is going. “I almost killed him when he ran from your house naked, so somehow I doubt he was better than me. Who else?” he enunciates the last word by shoving himself deeper into my throat. I choke, and he lets me struggle for a few seconds before easing up.
“Brandon Havatti, Carlos Santonio, Tyler Sanders…” he continues to list off every man I’ve been with. Which admittedly isn’t that many, but it’s a lot when you’ve just put their life in danger.
He jerks my head back sharply, allowing me a single breath as he says, “I’ll enjoy killing each and every one of them, little mouse.”
Before I can muster a response, let alone another breath of precious air, he’s back to choking me on his cock again.
My vision darkens around the edges from how deeply he’s plunging into my throat. It doesn’t matter how much I gag and fight against him, he only grows impossibly harder.