Page 7 of Stolen By the Submarine

I snarl and quicken my pace, punching my hips upward as I push her head down and pulling back as I yank her up just far enough for her teeth to graze the sensitive ring behind my tip before plunging right back into her depths.

Beyond words, I mash her lips against my knot and explode. Liquid fire sears the inside of my shaft and spurts from my tip. I shoot my seed down her throat and into her stomach until her hands fall away from my thighs.

Realizing she passed out from lack of oxygen, I lift her just enough to unblock her airway and flood her mouth with my second release. When pearly white fluid seeps from between her lips and runs down my shaft, I snarl and give her head a gentle shake.

She wakes with a jolt and chokes in her confusion, but I dig my nails into her scalp and rub my cock along her tongue until she swallows on reflex. She inhales only to exhale on a wet cough. Seed leaks from her nose.

A thorough mess, she’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. I groan and begin shallow, jerky thrusts as another, bigger release builds in my balls.

“Swallow every drop, little angel, or I’ll have to start over.”

Her nose and brow scrunch in the cutest display of impertinence, but when my cock jerks in her mouth and a fresh wave of seed spurts against the back of her throat, she swallows and emits a blissfully tortured groan.

I hum in approval and enjoy the flexing of her mouth around my pulsing shaft. After I deem she’s consumed enough, I yank my cock out and aim my tip at first her cheek, then her nose, then slide her face down my cock and release into her hair, superseding the stench of war and horror wafting from her head.

When the rush of euphoria fades, I drop my head to the wall behind me and close my eyes, enjoying the warmth of her face against the underside of my shaft and the silkiness of her hair covering my crotch.

The lack of her touch on my thighs aggravates me more than the stinging cuts from her nails. I relish the signs of her struggle, even as I bask in the pleasure of holding her head hostage against my cock. Still mostly hard, my shaft continues a slow leak, but my knot partially deflates as the straps of the holsters dig into my legs.

I lift my head and stiffen. With her hands wrapped around both of my knives, her face mashed against my cock, and my hands tangled in her hair, the tiny omega could cause me some serious pain before I took the blades away from her.

Except, she doesn’t remove them from the holsters. A stream of fresh warmth trails from her eyes and continues down the underside of my knot. Her shoulders shake.

She caresses the handles before sliding her hands over my thighs and dropping them into her lap.

I pull her away until my cock bobs an inch from her face and study her expression. Despite yearning to see her eyes, I don’t demand she open them. I long to preserve her perfection, and the sticky white fluid caked in her lashes may as well be glue.

The thought of her locked in a world of darkness as I ravage and enjoy every inch of her body—inside and out—has me fully hard again.

I extract a hand from her matted hair and ghost a thumb through the mess on her face.

“Why?” I ask.

She shrugs. Too satiated to snarl, I tsk and trace her lips.

“You won’t get a chance like this again. Why didn’t you stab me, angel?”

She wraps her arms around herself and hunches her shoulders.

“You still could, you know. Are you sure you want to pass up this opportunity? You’ve gotten a taste of how brutal I can be. Don’t you want to stop this? Don’t you want to be free?”

When she clenches her jaw and takes a shuddering breath through her nose, worry spears through me. I need to see her eyes.

“Open your mouth,” I demand. She swallows. Her lashes flutter against her cheek, but despite the tears flowing down her face, my seed prevents her from lifting them.

With dread in every line of her face, she slowly opens her mouth.

I sink three fingers between her teeth and stroke her tongue, ensuring she feels my dominance, before gathering her saliva and swiping the worst of my release from her lashes.

“Open your eyes,” I rumble.

An embarrassed flush colors her cheeks as she hiccups. She peels her lids open and reveals her gorgeous grey-ringed pupils.

“Why, little angel? Did I scare you that badly?”

After a shuddering breath, she opens her mouth to speak, but no sound emerges, so she swallows and tries again.

“I’m terrified, but that’s not why.” Her eyes flit over my face, imploring me to understand, but I need her to explain. “I… I don’t…I mean, I can’t… I want…” When no other words seem forthcoming, I tilt her head back and slip a knife free of its holster before balancing it on my palm beside her shoulder, giving her easier access. I quirk a brow when she doesn’t move.

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