Page 50 of Cage of Thorns and Blood

“You should do the same,” he says. “Don't settle for less next time, Renata. Not when you deserve so much more.”

All those nice words, dripping from his lips like honey. So seductive, and such lies. He says I deserve so much more, and yet he’s tricking me.

I can’t let the sex addle my brain to the point I forget that he’s lying to me. Worse, he's setting me and my family up for something. What exactly, I have no idea. Is he a sociopath who can say exactly what people want to hear? Or is he as messed up as me? Does he really feel things for me, things that are so mixed up with the past that it's hard to decipher what's new and what's old? Perhaps he wants to hurt me, but maybe he hates doing it.

Or, maybe, I think to myself, he believes that doing something to hurt my family won't really be harmful to me. After all, I’ve been very vocal in expressing how much I can't stand them. If that's the case, though, why not simply ask me to give them some false information? I'm convinced that if he presented it to me that way and said he had an idea as to how I could bring my family down a peg or two, then I'd be on board. I’m back to the horrible questions I’ve had ever since I realized he was setting me up.

“This is comfortable,” he says. “I never thought we could get here.”

“It’s just because we’ve sated the little lust demons,” I say with a laugh.

“Are you entirely sated?” he asks.

“I don't know… I think I could do with a little bit more sating. Maybe, though, something off the side menu. Not another full course.”

He's taken a sip of his tea when I speak, and he splutters around it a little as he laughs. “I like your euphemism. I could always go for some desert,” he says. He stands, takes another sip of his tea, and walks around to where I'm sitting. He lifts me up, and my legs wrap around his waist.

Matteo carries me with such ease and deposits me on the smooth surface of the table, and he pushes me back as he unties my robe.

I gasp as his head bends between my raised and widened legs, and he finds my clit and sucks it into his mouth. He begins to kiss me expertly, licking me the way I love and sucking at me too. He adds two thick fingers and crooks them just so, and I’m soon curling my fingers around the edge of the table as he expertly and terrifying brings me to an orgasm.

It hits with a force so hard my body bucks up. He’s kissed and caressed me through the come down, and I struggle to push myself up, ready to return the favor, but he pushes me down with one hand firmly on my chest.

I’m half propped up on my elbow, watching as he pulls his robe undone. I stare at his massive cock and swallow.

His fist pumps the length of it, all the while staring at my spread legs. “Open them wider for me,” he orders.

I do as he says, my legs parting for him.

My sass and determination to always fight authority seem to disappear with this man when he gives me sexy orders. My whole body just complies, before my mind can decide which way to go.

He steps closer and removes his other hand from my chest. “Don’t move,” he says.

I nod and bite my lip.

His big fist moving up and down his cock is an erotic sight. I watch ravenously as he milks out drops of pre-cum. He moves closer again and shakes his cock, making those drops splatter my pussy.

“So pretty,” he groans.

Then he fucks his fist for real. “Undo your robe fully and sit up,” he says. “I want to get this all over you.”

I do as he says, no idea why I’m finding this such a turn-on. His gaze roams from my tits to my face, down to my pussy and back again. It’s as if he can’t decide what he likes the most.

His thighs tense and tighten, and he grunts as he comes all over me with a hot splash. The first jet hits my tits, coating them and dripping down them. The second splashes my belly. The third drips along my pussy. He continues working that big cock as long stream of cum covers my pussy, and he still isn’t finished. He pushes the head against me, and works out a few more dribbles, covering me in it.

The way he’s coated me in himself and is staring at me like he wants to devour me makes me feel feral.

He’s just made me come, but I don’t care. I want him again. I want more. I sit up and plaster my sticky, messy body to his. I moan into his mouth as we kiss.

So much for sating our lust.

This is frightening in the intensity it holds over us because no way is this just a me thing. He’s as deep in the physical aspects of this as I am. He groans into the kiss like a man starving. His hands run over my body, rubbing in his seed, and I press my tits against his hard chest, rubbing my nipples against the light smattering of hair there and loving the friction.

“I want you again,” I pant. “I need you to fuck me.” This is messed up. We’re both crazed for it. For one another.

“You’ll be sore,” he says.

“Fuck my ass.” I glance down at his cock which hardens again at my words, despite him just coming moments ago.

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