Page 86 of Presence

And then, he pushes even deeper than I thought possible. Tears wet my eyes. Breath stops in my airways. Veins bulge on my neck.

“Good girl,” he rasps, his voice thick with lust. “So fucking good…”

His praise sends a jolt of pleasure through me, and I redouble my efforts, my tongue swirling around the base of his cock, my lips pressing tight. Using my hand, I rub his balls, massaging them to make him feel even better. Blood smears all over him.

I can feel him tensing, his breathing becoming ragged. I know he’s close, and I want to push him over the edge. With my free hand, I blindly look for his mouth. It’s not hard—his teeth feel like little deadly knives among the hard planes of his face. He’s panting with his mouth open now, and I don’t waste the opportunity. I scratch myself against his fang, making him taste me.

That does it. With a final, deep thrust, he comes, hot and fast, down my throat. His teeth clamp down on my finger as his claws sink in my scalp.

Pain, pleasure, and the taste of the rose flood me. I swallow eagerly, savoring the taste, the sensation, the power of knowing I can bring him to this.

His body shudders as he rides out his release, his grip on my hair loosening just enough for me to pull back and gasp for air. I wipe the tears from my eyes and look up at him, his chest heaving, his eyes glazing.

The depravity of this moment… It makes my whole body pulsate with need. I’m so pleased with myself that it gets me on a completely new kind of high.

I did it. I made him come from the taste of my blood.

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he whispers, pulling out of my mouth and positioning himself above me again. His knees sink into the mattress as one of his hands wraps around my throat. “The most delicious little soul I’ve ever had.”

I feel lightheaded as he restricts the flow of oxygen to my brain, but his words send waves of pleasure through me. My pussy swells and my nipples harden like tiny diamonds.

Why did I ever dislike the way this demon hurts me? Why was I so terrified of pain that I couldn’t see how much better everything was with it?

Fear is a powerful tool. It can destroy success, hard work, and potential—it can ruin everything. But there’s another side to fear that most people don’t understand. Fear can also intensify experiences. I see it now. Uncertainty heightens every sensation in my body. I can’t tell if pain or pleasure awaits. But either way, it’s perfect. Either way, it’s intense.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice a possessive growl. “Every inch of you.”

I nod, unable to speak, my throat raw and aching from his roughness. But I want more. I want to be consumed by him, to feel every bit of the pain and pleasure he can give me.

Before I can take a breath, he’s moving, his body a blur of motion. He lets go of my throat and grabs my wrists. He pulls me up, flipping me onto my stomach with a fluid grace that leaves me dizzy. His weight presses down on me, pinning me to the bed.

I brace myself as his hand snakes down my back, claws grazing my skin, leaving red welts in their wake. His hot breath finds the crook of my neck and I shudder when his long, wet tongue runs over my sensitive skin.

“Breathe, Little Soul,” he commands. “If you’re not conscious during this, I’ll whip your skin until it splits open.”

Only when his words make a jolt of electricity travel down my spine do I realize that I still haven’t taken that breath that my body craves. In a sharp motion, I let the air flow into my lungs, stretch my chest, and arch my spine even more so that my ass presses into his groin.

“Just like that,” he purrs.

Without a warning, his face disappears from my neck. He sits up, his cold thighs pressing against mine. Then, I feel him spreading my ass cheeks brutally and my heartbeat quickens.

There’s a moment of pause. It makes me feel like I’m a meal that he’s about to devour. Before tasting me, he wants to watch me first. He wants to feed his senses with me one by one—sight, touch, smell, the sounds my pussy makes when he spreads me further.

And the anticipation… The anticipation is killing me. I’m a slave to it—my hips wiggle from the sheer pent-up build-up inside me.

“Such a perfect little toy,” he groans, his voice a deep rumble that vibrates through me. “So eager to please.”

Finally, he runs a claw over my lower back, cutting the skin. The pain is sharp, deep. I shriek from the sensation but keep still, enjoying the way the warm blood starts trickling down my ass moments later.

That’s what happened to the other Claire. That’s what, back then, I thought I could never handle… But I… I love this.

There are wet, slick sounds that let me know Echo is coating his cock with my blood. They send a thrill through me, and I arch my back, eager to feel him inside me already.

When he enters, he’s not gentle. He’s just like his true self—merciless, taking, unapologetic. His cock thrusts inside my ass with no preparation and with a brutal rhythm that he sets straight off.

I scream in pain, clenching the white sheets with my rock-cut palms. The crimson stains spread beneath me, the blood soaking slowly into the fabric. My mind fogs and the room starts spinning. But just as torturous it is, it’s also freeing. The fear is not my enemy anymore. It only drives me closer to the edge.

His nails dig into my hips, drawing more blood, the sharp sting waking up my pleasure. I cry out, my voice muffled by the pillow, but he hears me. He always hears me.

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