Page 18 of Demon's Cruel Desire

My tongue finds the bundle of nerves between her legs and I flick it hard. Callista arches her back, a strangled whimper escaping her lips as I continue the maddening dance of my tongue. Her legs tremble around me, but I hold them steady. "Dagon, please," she begs again, and it's the desperation lacing her voice that makes it all so sweet.

The room is filled with the smell of her, intoxicating and overwhelming. The silk sheets bear witness to our escapade, crumpled and forgotten under us. My name becomes a litany on her lips, a plea for mercy - for release. But I am not merciful tonight.

With each flick of my tongue, each lap at her heated center, I watch as she gets more lost in this dance of desire. Her fingers run wild through my hair, bringing me closer in a silent plea that I intentionally ignore. Each denied climax makes her whimpers turn into pleas, filling the room with a symphony of our intimate connection.

Her breath hitches in her throat as I plunge two fingers inside her, her body spasming beneath me with the sudden intrusion. But I don't stop. Instead, I move faster, licking and biting while my fingers move inside her torturously slow.

"Dagon!" she cries out, but there’s no release. It's all heat, need, and an unyielding edge right there within reach but never grasped.

The denial is exquisite torment on both ends. For every wave I deny her, I feel it tenfold. My own body yearns for release alongside hers but this game of control is intoxicating in its own right.

Just when she’s about to lose control and come, I stop and force her onto all fours where I enter her roughly from behind. Her gasp fills the room, the sound raw and animalistic as I push into her. Her body tenses, then relaxes, shaping itself around me in a perfect fit. Her hands grip the velvet upholstery of our bed for support as I pull back only to push in deeper.

I take her hair in my hand, yanking her head back until I can see the unshed tears glisten on her long lashes. She’s beautiful like this, wild, desperate, and completely at my mercy.

“Dagon,” she whispers again. Not a plea, but a surrender, her voice shaky and breathy.

The rhythm is brutal. No delicate touches or lingering kisses. Just raw desire taking control as it crashes through me like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. My fingers dig into her hips, anchoring us together while I continue to pound hard against her.

Her breaths come out in short pants now, an erratic rhythm matching the fast tempo of our bodies colliding. Each breath is followed by my name falling from her lips like a silent prayer. A prayer I am too far gone to answer.

My eyes roam over the landscape of her body. The curve of her back, the swell of her hips meeting mine with every drive, and the reddening palm prints decorating her ass. She is mine to touch. Mine.

She begins to tremble beneath me, a sign of what's soon to come. But I don't grant that release to her just yet. The beast within me howls with pleasure from denying both of us what we want most.

Instead, I slow down my pace till it’s an unbearable crawl – each stroke deliberate, filled with agonizing restraint. The slow movement causes her to whimper, a sweet, almost painful sound that rattles through me. Her body tenses once again, but I don’t grant her the relief she seeks. Not yet.

Her thighs tremble around me, tiny quakes sending shivers up my spine and echoing through cocky grins and heavy breaths. I let go of her hair, only to trail my fingers down her spine – feeling the ridges of every vertebrae beneath heated skin. Her back arches at my touch, a silent invitation for more.

The room is filled with the scent of our union, musky, rich, and inviting. Each whimper from her lips only fuels my desire to continue this dance of raw passion and intoxicating control.

I pull out completely, leaving her empty before filling her once more in a slow, punishing drive. A guttural cry escapes her lips, filling the air with pure need, pure primal carnality.

"Dagon," she calls again, a plea wrapped in surrender and peppered with desperation.

My hand slips from her back to grip her waist again, a sign that our game is nearing its end. The slow rhythm morphs into an urgent pace as the thrill starts to claw at their edges once more.

Her noises become sharper now as she offers herself entirely to me, raw and unrestrained. She’s close – so close - to the edge, to the precipice that promises divine pleasure. I know she’s nearing it as her gasps grow louder, her grip on the bed sheet tightening.

"Please," she whispers, this time a begging plea, a voice laced with delicious desperation.

But I am unwilling to give in, not yet. My rhythm keeps its torturous pace while I revel in every twitch, every whimper, and every shiver that runs through her body. The ecstasy of this power is intoxicating - being able to control her pleasure... and her pain.

My eyes drink in the sight of her underneath me, all flushed and glowing. Her golden hair is fanned out across the pillow below her head, forming a halo around the face twisted in yearning. Her breasts move rhythmically with every breath she takes, peaks hardened with anticipation.

A low growl builds up in my throat as I feel my own climax building, slow and deliciously torturous like a menacing storm slowly brewing on the horizon. My grip on her waist intensifies, my fingertips digging into her soft flesh.

Her back arches off the bed again, pushing against me with an urgency that sends shivers coursing through my spine. "Dagon," she cries once more.

The release is wild, chaotic and untamed as it floods through my veins. I bury myself deep within her one last time, losing myself completely in the warm abyss of our satisfaction.

After what feels like hours lost in a haze of pleasure, my grip slackens around her waist and I collapse onto her.

Slowly, the world begins to fade back into focus, blurred edges sharpening under the golden hue of dawn creeping through the drawn curtains of our boudoir.

17

DAGON

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