Page 44 of Black Heart

“Taste it,” he commands. “Put the flavor of my growing obsession with you on your tongue.”

The heat of his shaft sinks into my lower lip, warming where I once trembled. I should be appalled right now. I should scream and bite his dick off and act so off-my-face crazy he’d have no choice but to release me.

Instead, his pre-cum leaks into the seam of my lips, his salt bursting with flavor. I’ve wanted to see him—all of him—since we were on top of the lighthouse. And when I touched myself in bed, knowing he was watching.

I open my mouth obediently, but with hesitation, lapping up more of him. I lick it off slowly, savoring the tangy flavor and eyeing him through my lashes to see my effect.

He groans in approval, pushing my mouth open wider to push more of himself into my mouth. My lips part under his demand, my eyes locked on his.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks, his voice a quiet dare.

I nod, unable to speak, my tongue curling under the base of his shaft.

“You want me.”

His words are more of a statement of anguish than a question.

I moan in response, unable to deny the truth in his words. He continues his sensual assault, pushing deeper until he’s almost at the back of my throat.

I gag, but he doesn’t pull out to give me air.

“You look so fucking perfect around my dick,” he murmurs, his voice uneven. “You’ve never been touched like this before, have you? Tied down, helpless, choking on cock.”

I shake my head, terrified yet thrilled by the thought.

His eyes darken in approval as he positions himself, spreading his legs enough that I sense what he’s going to do, and I brace for him to slam his entire length inside my mouth.

He starts moving, hard and fast, heedless of my choking sounds, the gargle of my voice mixing with saliva as I try to take him in. Strange, panicked sounds escape my throat as he hits the back, again and again, my nails digging into my palms.

My fingers flex against the ties binding my wrists, desperate for freedom, but also needing to connect with him. Each thrust sends waves of shame and pleasure through my body, making him moan my name louder.

He releases my hair and moves to my cheeks, indenting them with his fingers and thumbs so hard, sparks of pain flash into my vision.

This is raw and fierce, fueled by desperation and lust and something more addictive than I can comprehend.

Suddenly, he pulls out, causing me to cry out in both shock and relief.

He makes an agonized sound in his throat, reaching down to pump himself and aiming directly for my face.

“You still want me?” he asks, his voice curt and gravelly. “Despite what I am?”

Blinking back tears, and fairly certain that my eyes need to be pushed back into their sockets, I nod.

Because I can’t lie.

“You want a Scythe to fuck you?”

I raise my head, willing to stare him down while he comes all over me, refusing to flinch.

Every breath I take is filled with the scent of the sea air mixed with his musk and sweat, making me drunk off it.

My lips open again, and without waiting for permission, I dart my head forward and take him in my mouth. He groans deep in his throat, too in the throes of ecstasy to scold me for disobeying him as my head bobs up and down, taking him in as far as I can while bound.

Taking control.

My tongue swirls around the head, tasting the saltiness. My eyes close. I feel him grow bigger inside my mouth, stretching my jaw to its limit.

Both of his hands grip my hair roughly this time, pulling me closer to him, his hips bucking forward, demanding more.

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