Page 184 of Dark Fate

"You are one filthy, naughty girl, and you're all mine, Dani. Never forget that." But instead of feeling offended, a rush of desire so strong takes my breath away.

Then I feel something cool and slippery enter my ass. I tense up and try to pull away, but Rhyland’s grip is too strong. "Relax," he commands, his voice low and rough.

"What... w-what is that?" I ask, my voice trembling with anticipation and fear.

Rhyland ignores my question and continues to push whatever it is deeper into my ass. I feel my muscles clenching and relaxing as he moves it in and out, the sensation both painful and pleasurable. To my surprise, I feel my body responding, my hips bucking to meet the intrusion.

It's obvious he's inserting a butt plug in my ass.

Rhyland starts to massage my clit with the toy again. "Fuck, look at how wet you are, dirty girl." His praises turn me on more, and I moan and throw my head back. My arms are numb, but I'm too turned on to care.

"There we go, just a little more, Angel," he encourages. I feel him slide the object in further, almost too much to bear.

"Fuck, oh God," I pant, my body quivering with pleasure. That damn clit massager is going to send me skyrocketing, especially now that my ass is filled.

With the object fully seated in my ass, Rhyland sets the toy aside and swiftly undoes the ropes binding my wrists. I go to growl at him, but it comes out a whine.

I wince as the blood rushes back into my arms, my fingers tingling with pins and needles.

Rhyland scoops me up and carries me to the bathroom, setting me on the counter. It’s uncomfortable sitting with this object still in my ass, but I manage.

Rhyland cleans the lube off and tells me to get dressed.

"Wait, what? That’s it?" I ask incredulously.

"Yup. We have dinner and drinks planned—and you better keep that plug in your ass. I expect to see it still there later."

I stare after him in disbelief as he leaves the bathroom.

Stepping into the Playful Pint is like taking a trip down memory lane, with a touch of "Oh shit, remember that?" But hey, I am not about to let the past ruin my night, and neither is Emily. She is on a mission to ensure we have a blast, and who am I to argue?

With the impending witch raid looming, this is our chance to let loose and forget about the stress. It is time to trade in our battle gear for some cocktails and laughter.

"Girl, you better drink up. I am not drinking alone tonight," Emily demands, pushing a colorful concoction my way.

I happily oblige, downing my third cocktail. But as I shift in my seat, I’m reminded of Rhyland's "gift" still occupying its place. The damn object in my ass is making its presence known, and I have to bite my lip to keep from yelping.

Why did I agree? Well, apparently, I have a thing for Rhyland's twisted brand of punishment. The man knows how to push my buttons in all the right ways, and I can't get enough.

Who else would willingly sit in a bar with a foreign object up their ass, pretending everything's fine? This girl. I must be a special kind of fucked up to crave Rhyland's sick ways, but what can I say? The heart (and other parts) want what they want.

So here I am, sipping my fourth drink, secretly turned on by Rhyland's dominance. It's going to be a long night, but at least I have Emily and the gang to keep me distracted.

Cheers to good friends, strong drinks, and kinky vampires who keep us on our toes! Let the night of debauchery begin!

Rhyland

86

Sitting at the table, watching Dani squirm, I can't help but grin like a sadistic bastard. It's taking every ounce of my self-control not to drag her back to our room and fuck her senseless, but I'm enjoying this little game too much to end it just yet.

Lucian, ever the nosy little shit, leans over and asks, "What's got you smiling like the cat that ate the canary, Rhy-Rhy? You finally pull that stick out of your ass and discover the joys of a good prostate massage?"

We've been here for about an hour now, relaxing and enjoying the peace of being. No battles, no strategizing, no planning, no looking over our shoulders—just some fucking fun for a night.

"Fuck off, Lucian," I retort, not wanting to reveal my little secret. "My ass is none of your business."

Erik is lounging next to Lucian, sipping on his bourbon—his go-to drink—and watching the bar with his keen eyes, as always. The man never truly relaxes, but I can't blame him. It's in our nature to be on guard.

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