Page 17 of Final Girls and F*ck Boys

“You’re mine,” Atley said, his voice a dark whisper. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear as he spoke. “And I’ll take care of you, Priestly. Always.”

The blade left my skin, and in its place, Atley’s hand slid down, cupping me, his fingers tracing the slickness there. I arched into his touch, my body betraying me, desperate for more.

"See? You belong to me now," he whispered against my neck, the mask brushing against my skin as he teased me with just the right amount of pressure. "You’re so wet for me."

I whimpered, nodding, unable to deny the truth. I was his in every way that mattered.

His hand moved slowly, deliberately, teasing me as he kept me on the edge. “I’m going to take you now,” he growled, the darkness in his voice palpable, thick with lust and need. “But only after you beg for it.”

I whimpered, my body trembling, desperate for him to push me over the edge.

“Beg for it, little saint,” he demanded, his breath hot against my ear. “Let me hear how badly you want me.”

My breath came in ragged gasps, the tension between us palpable. Atley’s fingers hovered at the edge of my need, grazing me just enough to drive me mad but never enough to offer release. The air was thick with the scent of earth and sweat.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, a quiet, desperate plea in the thick of the night.

Atley chuckled, low and dark, the sound rumbling through his chest. His hand stilled, holding me in that aching place between pleasure and torment. “Louder,” he demanded, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “I want to hear you say it like you mean it.”

I swallowed hard, my body trembling under his touch, my thighs pressing together as the ache between them grew unbearable. Even beneath his mask, there was a fire in his eyes, something primal, something that told me he wouldn’t stop until I gave him everything. He was going to make me beg, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

“I—” My voice cracked, breathless, as he pressed just the tip of his finger inside me. “Please, Atley. I need you.” The words came out in a rush, broken, needy. “I want you so bad.”

He groaned softly, his lips brushing against my neck as he let his finger slide deeper, just enough to make me gasp. “That’s it,” he murmured, a wicked smile tugging at his lips. “You want me to fuck you, little saint?”

I nodded frantically, my hands fisting the fabric beneath me, my entire body arching toward him. “Yes,” I begged, unable to hold back any longer. “Please, I need you inside me. I’ll do anything.”

Atley’s thumb flicked over my clit in response, a slow, deliberate movement that had me gasping, my hips bucking up into his hand. “That’s better,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “Good girl. You know how to beg when you need to.”

He shifted, moving between my legs, one hand gripping my hip firmly as he positioned himself at my entrance. The hardness of him pressed against me, teasing, and I could feel the heat of his body radiating down on mine. Every inch of him was pure control, the overwhelming power of him so intoxicating, I couldn’t think straight.

“I want to hear you say it again,” he demanded, the head of his cock just grazing my entrance, his voice filled with dark amusement. “Tell me what you need, Priest.”

“I need you,” I whispered, breathless, barely able to form the words. “I need you to fuck me.”

With a low growl, Atley pushed inside me, filling me slowly, his size stretching me in a way that made my back arch, my lips parting in a silent gasp. He stilled for a moment, letting me feel the full weight of him, his breath coming out in short bursts as he held himself back.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his hands digging into my hips as he pulled back slightly, only to push in deeper. The fullness of him made me moan, my body trembling beneath him.

He set a slow, deliberate pace, each thrust controlled, each movement designed to drive me closer to the edge. My body moved with him, instinct taking over as I matched his rhythm, every nerve alight with pleasure. His hands roamed my body, rough fingers tracing the lines of my curves as he whispered dark promises against my skin.

“I told you,” Atley growled between thrusts, his voice ragged and filled with lust. “You’re mine now, every fucking inch of you.”

I whimpered in response, lost in the intensity of his words, of his body, of the way he controlled every second of this moment. His pace quickened, his grip tightening as he pushed me closer to the brink, his cock hitting that perfect spot with every thrust.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice low, dangerous. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” I gasped, my nails digging into the fabric beneath me as my body tightened around him, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. “I belong to you.”

Atley groaned, the sound primal and raw as he drove into me harder, faster, his body trembling with the force of his need. “That’s right,” he growled, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re fucking mine.”

The tension snapped inside me, and I cried out, my body convulsing around him as pleasure crashed over me in waves. Atley followed close behind, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he thrust deep, his cock pulsing inside me as he spilled his release.

We stayed like that for a moment, tangled together in the dark, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. Atley’s hand moved to my face, his thumb brushing gently across my cheek as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my lips, a surprising tenderness in the aftermath of his possession.

“Mine,” he whispered one last time, his voice soft but no less commanding.

I bit my lip, knowing he was right but still wanting to play the game. “If you can catch me again,” I said.

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