Page 24 of Tyrant

Her hand pushes her shirt up. I stare over her shoulder, seeing flesh that’s new to me. She’s careful though. Defiant as fuck. Her hand goes under her shirt and up to her bra.

I curl my lip and don’t say a thing. Yet.

Her hand moves over her sports bra. Over her tit. She starts to pull at her sports bra, I assume curling fingers under it to lift it up. A nice tight fit to keep her bouncy tits in place when she’s running.

My cock throbs inside my jeans. My body is pushed up against hers. She can feel my cock. I know she can. I want her to feel it. I dare her to try and stay away from me right now.

My right hand touches her throat. My fingers ache to squeeze. Ache to tighten, hard. I want to find her line. I want to see where pleasure and fear meet for her. I want to cross that line and make her cry. It’s only then and there will she really understand how good this all feels.

Then again, it doesn’t matter what she wants or feels. I have to break her. I have to take what’s left of her thoughts on the world and shatter it all into dust.You’re welcome, to whoever her future husband is.

Serafina has one side of her sports bra pushed up. I know that cannot be comfortable. Her right tit must be all squished right now. But she listened to me.

“Move your fucking hand out of the way,claimed one,” I whisper with a growl.

She drops her hand from under her shirt. I release my hold of her hair with my left hand. I touch her lower back. Her skin is warm, a little slick with sweat from her running.

My tongue tingles. I want to taste her sweat almost as badly as I want to taste the sticky honey between her legs. I move my hand inside her shirt, around to her side, and then up.

“Listen to me carefully,claimed one,” I whisper. “You touched me without asking. You know that requires punishment, correct?”

Serafina turns her head and looks up at me. I’m well aware this is our first encounter without me wearing a mask. Our eyes fuck each other like crazy. She’s already mostly broken inside. Beaten up and tortured emotionally. Left to beg for attention. No fucking idea what it really feels like to be loved. I bet any fucking guy that’s ever touched her has been a self-serve option. Nobody caring about her needs or desires. Nobody willing to dig deep and allow her to explore her own personal darkness.

That’s the fucking tragic part. But I’m here to save her. I’m the fucking devil. She’s my fallen angel. And my hand moves closer to her warm, heavy tit.

“Answer me, Serafina,” I growl.

“Yes,” she purrs. “Punishment… yes…”

“Good,claimed one,” I say. “That word is important here.Yes. Very important.”

My middle fingertip follows the swell of her tit. I can’t wait to have all of her to myself. My pointer finger is next. Then my ring finger, followed by my pinky. My thumb presses against the side of her tit. My hand engulfs her and I squeeze.

“You said… nipple…” she says, her jaw quivering.

“Oh, that’s right,” I say. “I have to make sure you really are Serafina.”

I smirk in only the way the devil would do before he kills. She bites her bottom lip. I use my pointer and middle fingers to move across her nipple. She’s knotted. Tight. Hard.Perked.A beautiful, thick nub that my fingers play with.

I touch the skin of her areola, moving in circles, memorizing the shape and size until it’s the smooth, warm skin of her tit again. I bring my thumb up to enjoy her too.

I press my thumb against her nipple, along with my pointer finger. Gently, I roll her nipple for a second or so, then I start to squeeze. Hard.Very fucking hard.

Serafina’s entire body jumps and stiffens. She pushes back at me, her sweet body rubbing against the throbbing bulge inside my jeans.

I pull at her nipple, gritting my teeth as I do so. I pull until she whimpers. Then I let go.

I grab her again, this time I use all my fingers. Digging my fingertips into her skin, having them meet at her nipple. Am I being rough? Of course I am. Am I beingtoorough? Who the fuck cares?

My claimedis standing, accepting. And I’m willing to bet she’s a soaked mess between her legs right now too.

I keep to my word, then take my hand away from her body. My right hand still touches her throat. I inch my hand up and force her to look at me again.

“Yup,” I say. “Definitely who you say you are.”

She lets out a cute, nervous laugh. There’s a look in her eyes wondering if I’m going to actually stop right there. That’s when I know I have her. That’s how I know she’s ready to be broken.

I run my right pointer finger across her bottom lip. I step back and reach down for my mask and put it back on.

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