Page 167 of Devil's Deal

He transfers me into just one palm, and it’s big enough to support me as I straddle him. He wraps the other hand around my throat, loosely enough, but the pressure is there.

“…choked?” he finishes with a predatory smile.

I barely nod when he squeezes. I try to gulp in a breath but can’t, and panic hits me. He looks at me with dark eyes, his expression curious, but he doesn’t touch me. There is no friction, no pleasure to fly off to when my air is taken.

I struggle in his grip, clawing at his hand, and his breath hitches. He leans in to capture my mouth in a ragged kiss, but I don’t kiss him back, too busy trying to take in air that won’t come.

When my strength flags, he drops us to the ground, with him on top of me. My dress is gone in a blink, his body between my legs, and when he finally lets go and I take in the first breath that’s like a rush to my head, he drives himself inside me with a long, powerful stroke.

I choke on my scream, my body going rigid from pain.

And it’s not just between my legs. It’s everywhere, tearing at my chest, clawing up my spine, exploding behind my eyes with the brightness of the high noon sun. My body snaps into a taut arch, every tendon and muscle tensing to its limit, my bones groaning from the effort of keeping me whole.

I shake, and I can’t scream, because there is no air.

“What’s wrong?” his voice comes from afar, but I can’t speak. My eyes are squeezed shut, but there is a burning brightness spilling inside me until I’m terrified I can’t contain it.

This place is pure suffering and tension, all hard edges, being too full, being forced open and torn apart.

Something wets my lips, warm and sweet, and I swallow. Blood. My breath swoops rushing in, the pain pouring out of me, and I take shaky breaths, one after another, realizing I am well. I’ll live. Soon, all that remains of the pain is the fire between my legs. It’s the ache of having too much shoved inside me way too fast.

“Darling, what happened? Jaga, sweetheart, tell me… Here. Why did it hurt?”

He pulls out, hovering above me, and I gasp at the friction of him leaving my body. But that seal is broken. I would tell him to stay, because I’d surely get used to him inside, but I’m too busy breathing my fill.

Yet I need him. I feel shaky, unmoored, and so I clutch his arms braced on either side of me. I slowly open my eyes to look at his face.

It’s tense with worry and guilt, his eyes alert, searching me with frantic intensity. I take deeper breaths, holding on to him like he’s my lifeline.

Slowly, Woland’s forehead smoothes, his eyes narrowing. Panic spasms through me. He knows.

“You were a virgin,” he says, his voice deep. “I didn’t know.”

Gods. I’m so relieved, I want to laugh, but I push it back, giving him a tremulous smile instead. He tilts his head to the side, watching me curiously.

“I really thought it was obvious,” I say hoarsely when he adds nothing.

Not physically, of course. I’ve touched and penetrated myself enough for my virginity not to be apparent. But I thought it was clear from my sometimes bashful behavior. From my blushes.

He barks a short laugh, though he’s not amused in the least. I don’t know what he is. He seems chagrined and a little angry, but not at me.

“Was it? I wouldn’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever fucked a virgin before. And you never struck me as very virginal.”

“I wish you didn’t repeat that word,” I say weakly, my cheeks flaming because of how awkward it is.

I’m sore between my legs, and now I feel like he’s rejecting me, although when I peek between us, he’s still very much erect.

Woland shakes his head, and then finally, he smiles. He drops a small kiss on my lips and moves down my body until his face is between my legs, his antlers caging my hips.

I hiccup when he looks up, his golden eyes pulling me in. This reminds me so much of the night we met. I really hope he doesn’t withhold the orgasm from me this time.

“What are you doing?” I ask when his eyes glitter softly.

“Making up for my mistake,” he says simply before kissing me.

He is so gentle. His lips are soft, his tongue slow and warm, and he tastes me with infinite patience. I gasp and clutch his antlers, the bone cool and hard, perfect to keep me anchored. He hums encouragingly and parts me with his tongue, putting gentle, soothing pressure where it hurts.

He’s so thorough. His touch is warm and wet, and not demanding like I’m used to with him. He doesn’t hurry me along. All he does is soothe me, and it’s almost not sexual but comforting instead. Every part of me that flamed at his intrusion is licked until the ache is gone, and then more, until I grow soft and warm, opening to receive more.

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