Page 169 of Devil's Deal

“Let’s see how long I can be patient. I’m afraid I haven’t had much practice holding back,” he says with a shameless grin, starting to move.

He is so slow and controlled, taking me with long, even thrusts that I feel all the way up, as far as my body allows him to go. He looks at me, his eyes pinning me in place and drinking me in. My every sharp breath, every moan, every flutter of my eyelid gets a reaction, like he can’t help but follow my instinctive cues.

His eyes brighten, his face tightens, his brows pull together as if in pain in response to my pleasure. He is so attuned to me, it’s frightening, and yet, it flatters me, too. His attention is such a rare, precious thing, and I command all of it.

“How do you feel so good?” he murmurs, his eyes blazing. I squeeze him tightly when pleasure rolls through my core. “A mere mortal.”

He seems awed and annoyed, punctuating his words with a harder, faster thrust that makes me cry out from bliss. He stops, so deep, he’s completely buried in me, and breathes hard, staring at me like he’s furious.

Yet when he lets go of my leg and strokes my cheek with his knuckles, it’s not in anger. His hand shakes just a little, and he closes his eyes, taking a shuddering breath like he’s trying to control himself.

I clench around him instinctively, because Woland undone and fighting for control is the most arousing thing I’ve ever seen. He hisses, trying to push deeper inside me with a jerk.

“If you were a proper witch, I’d suspect you put a spell on me,” he says, opening his eyes. They glitter, more beautiful than stars.

I shake my head. “What kind of spell?”

“The kind that makes me want to get lost in you forever.”

My answer gets stuck in my throat that’s suddenly tight with emotion, and he sighs, burying his shaking hand in my hair. He moves again, slowly, reverently, mouthing silent words. I only suspect what they are, reading from his lips.

Beautiful.

Goddess.

My witch.

His shadows pool between us, pressing intimately between my legs. Magic pours into me, forcing in so much pleasure, I have no choice but to come. I scream when I do, squeezing him tightly inside me, and he growls, low and fierce, shaking harder. And still, he keeps the even pace. When I relax after the violent high and open my eyes, he gives me an unhinged smile. His shadows attack me again.

This isn’t how mortals make love. Somehow, he uses his magic to overcome the limits of my body, forcing pleasure into me when normally I’d need time to build up again after my peak. He doesn’t let me. He wants my orgasms, and so his shadows press into my flesh and feed me his black magic, and I soar again and again, until I lose my voice from screaming.

I don’t even count how many peaks I crash from. They run together, one bleeding into the next, my body bursting at the seams from too much bliss.

He still doesn’t speed up, but tremors of restraint run through his limbs. His teeth are bared in a snarl, like holding back costs him pain. And still, he keeps the slow, sensuous pace, pouring pleasure into me until I sob without tears.

“Please,” I beg, mindless with ecstasy. Another orgasm lingers, the tension inside me bordering on agony, yet it’s so good. “Please, I can’t.”

His laugh is like a snarl, low and vicious. “If I can, then you can, too. Just a while longer. I don’t want this to end.”

I come crashing down, my body pulling him deeper with sharp spasms of pleasure. He loses a shaking breath, his rhythm stuttering. It’s like he can’t hold himself back from slamming deep, going faster and harder, his shadows coiling around my throat but not choking me.

“Can I stay inside you for hours?” he asks, his voice heated with lust.

“Yes!” I cry out, digging my nails into his skin to hold him closer.

His eyes glow, his lips pulled back.

“Tell me you’re mine, love. Last chance,” he grits out. His neck is corded with tension.

I shake my head. It’s not a conscious decision, because I’m incapable of that. It’s merely a reflex born from this exchange repeating so many times.

He demands, I tell him no. It’s a pattern ingrained in my being.

Yet, if he hadn’t trained me so well, I believe I would say anything he wants. He’s so deep inside me, so hot and hard and good, and I want to keep him here forever. Whatever the cost.

Woland closes his eyes, his face tensing even more. When he opens them, they are dark with resolve.

“Then you leave me no choice. Don’t be afraid. It will only hurt a moment.”

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