Then she hits me across the chest.
One moment, she’s on top of me, the next, I flip us so that she’s underneath me. Her gasp echoes in the air, but it morphs into eerie silence when I settle between her legs.
I slap them apart, enjoying the sound of her groan as I lick the inside of her thigh, then bite. Hard. Until she squeezes me between her thighs.
I’m not done, though.
Far from it.
I rip off her panties and bask in the sight of her milky white skin that appears bluish under the midnight moon.
My first taste of her leaves her trembling and my cock begging for a go. So I do it again, running my tongue all the way to her clit. As I suspected, she’s soaking wet. Maybe even more than before.
“Chasing kink. Check.” I speak against her folds and she squirms, turning her head to the side, but she’s not trying to push me or show me her favorite middle finger. “I’m sure going to have my hands full with you.”
And then I feast on her pink little pussy. I swipe my tongue along her folds all the way to the slit, feeling her shudder.
As she trembles, I flick my tongue on her clit. Once. Twice. Then I suck and toy with the bundle of nerves.
Mia’s back arches on the shambles of destruction. Only, there’s no such thing as escaping me.
When her hips jerk, I thrust two fingers inside her. She coils and sinks her nails into my hair, then pulls hard enough to cause pain in my skull.
I’m not one to lose a challenge, though.
Still thrusting inside her, I expose her sensitive bud and nibble on the skin around it, then circle and flick my tongue.
Mia’s hips jerk up and down as her gasps and moans mix and echo in the air.
It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
And surprisingly, I want more.
So I up my rhythm until she’s riding my face and drenching it with her sweet taste.
Best pussy I’ve had in…ever.
And that’s a complication, because I don’t get attached to pussy.
Ever.
Not even an addictive one like Mia’s.
I lick her through the orgasm as she shudders and hisses like a damn sex goddess.
When I lift my head, I make a show of licking my lips, but I don’t feel the sense of triumph I set out for when I started this game.
And it’s all because of the way she’s watching me.
The innocence. The awe.
There’s no hatred, glares, or middle fingers. As she props herself on her elbows, Mia looks at me as if I’m a god.
And while I could be in some obscure religions, I’m certainly not her god.
I’d crush her in no time.
I’d decimate her before she could take her next breath.
I let a smirk lift my lips. “You might want to wipe that look off your face or I’ll be inclined to think you’re falling in love with me.”
She blinks once, then she narrows her eyes and flips me off.
Now, this is a territory I can play in. Whatever that look was has to be eradicated and not revived for a lifetime.
“I thought I told you what would happen if you flipped me off again.” I grab her hand and then thrust that middle finger inside her with my own middle finger.
Poetic justice of sorts.
“You’re going to come for me again and then you’ll use this same energy to choke on my cock, little muse.”
Once I’m done with Mia Sokolov, there will be no pieces left to pick up.
What a pity.
17
MIA
Hope is the worst emotion to experience when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel.
You wait.
You pray.
You even try to delude yourself that it’s not happening to you. That it just can’t be you.
But that’s the problem with hope.
The false positive. The feeling that the horrible situation can end any moment, when that’s far from the truth.
It’s the falsification of reality.
The yearning for a different dream.
A feeling of being on the cloud that can’t be reached in real time.
Once again, I’m back in the pitch-darkness. Tendrils of black slither across my hands and feet, swallowing me deeper into the clutches of nothingness.
My lungs choke on the dying hope of ever seeing light again.
“Mom…Dad…” My haunted whisper echoes in the dark silence like an eerie lullaby.
My limbs tremble and my heart shrivels. Tears sting my eyes again and I sniffle as quietly as possible.
If I trigger the monster’s wrath, he’ll throw me against the wall and laugh at my loud crying.
He laughs when I say Mom and Dad will come to get me.
He laughs the hardest when he unleashes the weight of his wrath on me. When he kicks and throws me against the wall as if I’m the punching bag in our home gym.