Page 52 of Emperor of Lust

“Come for me, Kitsune,” his rough, rasping, velvety voice snarls into my ear before his lip bites down hard on the lobe. His grip tightens, ramming into me over and over as my world blurs at the edges. “That greedy little pussy is going to make me come so fucking hard,” he grunts. “Make me come, Kitsune…” I cry out as he pounds into me, his teeth raking down my neck as he pins my cheek to the cushion. “Take every fucking drop of my cum like a good girl.”

It’s the timing of “good girl” as he sinks himself in me to the hilt that does it. The blur around the edges of my reality intensifies. My vision fades out as my body arches and strains against my ropes, spasming and shaking before suddenly, Iexplode.

I scream out my orgasm as it rips through me. The growing pain of the ropes cutting into me only makes the pleasure more intense. I’m shaking everywhere as Damian pounds into me, his abs hitting my ass, his heavy balls slapping against my clit before he buries himself deep and groans.

A moan shudders through my chest as his hot cum spills into me. His thick cock twitches and pulses, pumping his cum deep as he pulls my head up by my braid, twisting my face around before his mouth crashes to mine, kissing me like he’s claiming me.

In that moment, my entire world is the unrelenting power of him, and the intoxicating thrill of my surrender.

We stay like that a minute, his cock still balls-deep inside me as he lazily kisses my mouth, his tongue tasting my lips as he toys with my hair. Then slowly, he breaks away, and I gasp quietly when he slides his length from between my legs.

As he starts to untie me, my adrenaline high begins to fade, replaced by a strange tension. When the last of the ropes slips from my bruised, still quivering body and he’s removed the red silk from around my eyes, I sit up, wrapping my arms around myself as reality returns.

Two minutes ago, I was bound on my knees, moaning deliriously as he fucked me like an animal.

Suddenly, it’s as if someone’s turned the lights back on. I feel exposed and weirdly vulnerable being completely naked—not tomention the marks on my skin, my swollen lips, and the fact that I can feel his cum leaking out of me.

Damian seems completely unfazed by the fact that we’re both nude. In fact, I’m beginning to think he might be even more at ease naked than clothed.

But I suddenly feel the need to cover. I turn, grabbing the throw blanket from the edge of the bed. Just as I start to pull it over, his hand shoots out, stopping me.

“Nope.”

I frown as I turn to him. “What?”

“No,” he repeats, his tone pleasant but firm as he shrugs. The control in his voice grates on me, and a sliver of defiance rises inside me.

“I’m just covering?—”

“No. You’re not.”

I scowl, hugging my arms around myself. “Control freak,” I mutter. His expression doesn’t change, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. I huff, pushing myself off the bed and walking into the bathroom.

Inside, I flick on the light, wincing a little as my eyes adjust. My cheeks burn as I stare at myself in the mirror.

JesusChrist. I look like…well, like I just had the shit fucked out of me. Which, granted, Idid.

For a second, I allow myself to grin at reflection despite the blush on my face.

Whatever this probably unhealthy thing is with Damian, there’s zero question that I just had—bar none—the best sex of my life. Granted, I haven’t hadmuchof it. After what happened with Josh that night in school, sex wasn’t exactly a high priority. But I did try eventually. It just never…I don’t know…felt like I thought it was supposed to. There were no “explosions” or “fireworks” or anything like that. It just felt—mechanical.

I guess that’s why I’ve tended to seek out relationships like the one I had with Scott, where sex wasn’t even on the table.

But now, for the first time, I think I understand the whole “fireworks and explosions” thing.

Alot.

I take in my disheveled reflection again: my hair half out of the braid Damian put it into. My skin crisscrossed with red marks and slightly bruised indentations from the ropes. My makeup trashed, my lips smudged and swollen.

His cum is still dripping down my thighs.

Hastily, I grab some tissues and clean up. I wash my face and brush my teeth, taking the braid out before I walk back into the bedroom.

It’s still dark, illuminated only by the neon of the Ginza district outside. Damian’s in bed with the covers pulled back in a clear invitation.

I hesitate awkwardly at the foot of the bed.

“Get in,” he says, in that familiar commanding tone.

---