His mouth skates over my lips once before I watch a trail of saliva drip from his mouth into mine.
“Swallow your juices,” he rasps.
And I do. My throat works as the unique taste blooms across my tongue. He growls deep in his chest before he crushes his lips to mine.
I let him. Later, I’ll ask myself why. But with his fingers still drawing out pleasure, despite my orgasm having faded and the fog clouding my judgement—I fucking let him.
Not only that, but I kiss back.
His tongue dives into my mouth, swirling with my own. Fire and electricity spark from our connected lips, and it feels like planets colliding. Like the energy is astronomical, and with every brush and every lick, a new star is being born.
Time ceases to exist as he kisses me until my lips are bruised, and I’m sure I’ll come out of this with a permanent stutter in my breathing. At one point, he withdrew his fingers and cupped my face with his hands almost sweetly. A stark contrast to… well, him and the way he devours me.
He yanks himself away when our bodies begin to grind ruthlessly and moans slip free, and I’m glad for it. The second he retreats, it’s like time and clarity come rushing back in, hitting me over the head like someone just clocked me with a bat.
I don’t open my eyes, I just suck in deeply, breathless from that kiss. His body slips out from between my thighs, and I immediately snap my knees inward and drop my feet, hiding myself from his ravenous eyes.
Being consumed by him feels like drowning in water with a live wire in it. Electric currents ravish your body until you’re overcome with it. No oxygen. No thought. No control.
And when it’s over, he yanks you out of the water. The electricity still dancing across your skin, currents sparking between your bodies, but you can see and think clearly again.
All you can feel is like you’ve been ripped to shreds. Like your body chemistry has been completely rearranged, and you’ve come out of that water an entirely different person.
I hate him for it.
I hate him more than I’ve ever hated anyone. The bliss fades, and the familiar feeling of fury and hatred reawaken.
He doesn’t speak, but I feel the power bubbling beneath his skin.
I can feel the desire. The thirst. The absolute ravenous beast threatening to tear from his skin.
If it does, I can no longer trust myself to stop him from consuming me from the inside out. And the realization makes me want to cry.
I let it fucking happen again. With the gun, and now this, why do I keep letting this happen?
He’s forcing himself on me, we both know that. But in the end, he had me wanting it just as much as he did. He had me nearly begging for it. Whether it was his gun fucking me or his tongue, my legs fell open by the time it was over.
Not to mention we just made out like two horny teenagers about to lose their virginity.
I don’t know what the fuck to do with that information. Or how the hell to even process it.
A moment of silence passes, the air disturbed only by our heavy breathing.
I’m not strong enough to open my eyes and face what happened. I’m scared of what I’ll do—what I’ll say.
For the first time, the asshole in the sky finally listens to my pleas and compels this man to reach over, untie the ropes and walk the fuck away.
I force my eyes open and watch him go, swallowing the venom that threatens to spew from my mouth. If I let it loose, I know it’ll just result in him carrying out another threat.
He pauses at the door, turning his head just enough for the moonlight to reveal his sharp jawline, the wetness coating his skin, and a hint of a scar.
He doesn’t speak, but he does bite his bottom lip hard, trapping whatever meaningless words on his tongue. Right along with the taste of my pussy.
Finally, he turns, the door gently clicking shut behind him. For the second time, I'm left alone. Decimated and in ruins. And again, I let the tears fall freely while I work to pick up the pieces.
Chapter 19
The Shadow
I don’t regret it. Not any more than when I stuck a gun in her cunt and made her come.
And I know how fucked up that is—to take something without consent. I know that’s what I’m fighting against every day.
She hasn’t given it to me yet, but she will. I know my little mouse better than she knows herself. She’s in too much denial to see how drawn she is to me. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t instigate, pushing to get her clit bitten, knowing damn well I stay true to my word.
If she genuinely wasn’t intrigued, she wouldn’t have texted me back in the first place.
Her actions speak an entirely different language than her words. A language filled with desire and pleas—she just hasn’t learned to translate it yet.