Page 74 of My Bloody Valentine

I position myself at her entrance, tracing lazy circles with the tip of my length. Teasing. Taunting.

“Please,” she begs, her thighs parting wider.

I glance up, meeting her feverish gaze. “Please, what, Maya?”

“Don’t torture me.” Her hips jerk involuntarily as I continue to toy with her entrance, my tip nudging but never entering. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”

“Eager, aren’t we?” I curl my hand around her thigh, squeezing as a reminder of her helplessness. “But begging won’t get you anywhere. You’re at my mercy now.”

Her cheeks flush, her chest heaving. She needs it as desperately as I do, but I want to hear her say it.

“Ask nicely, and I might consider it.” I drag the tip of my cock up her slit, spreading her wetness.

“Oh, please.” She bites her lip, the sight fueling my own need. “Adrian, please fuck me.”

“With pleasure.” I slide forward, filling her in one slow stroke. “But on my terms.”

Her inner walls clench around me, clutching me like a vise. I thrust slowly, deliberately, drawing out each moment of connection. Her eyes roll back as she surrenders to the pleasure, her body begging for more even as her words fail her.

I lean in, nuzzling her ear. “You feel so good, Maya. So tight and wet.” I nip at her earlobe, then soothe it with my tongue. “But I haven’t even begun to fuck you yet.”

My hips snap forward, claiming her fully. The slap of our bodies echoes through the room, my balls tingling at the impact. I set a demanding pace, relishing the feel of her yielding to my dominance.

Maya meets my thrusts, her body moving with fluid grace despite her bound state. Her walls flutter in delicious ways around my shaft as I plunder her depths, seeking the spots that make her moan.

Needing a deeper connection, I reach between us to rub her clit in circles, my cock pistoning in time with my fingers. She tightens like a bowstring, a cry caught in her throat as I strike her sweet spot with rhythmic precision.

“Drench my cock, little critic. Let me feel every pulse.” I angle myself to hit that spot again, my balls drawing tight as I sense my own climax approaching. “I’m going to paint your insides with my release and mark that sweet cunt of yours.”

Her pussy locks down on me, drenching my cock as her orgasm rolls through her. Her greedy cunt doesn’t let go, drawing out my release as my cock pulses within her.

“Fuck!” I grit my teeth, riding out the intense waves, filling her with my essence. “Maya!”

She breathes in sharp gasps while my cum floods her. Spent and sated, my body collapses against hers, my arms instinctively wrapping around her to keep us connected as we float back down to earth.

I stroke Maya’s hair as she drifts off to sleep, my fingers tracing the delicate curve of her neck where my marks bloom like black roses. The sight fills me with a possessive pride I’ve never known before. She’s mine—truly, completely mine.

She stirs slightly in her sleep, pressing closer to my chest. My arms tighten around her instinctively. I would kill anyone who tried to take her from me—not out of necessity like the hollow ones, but out of pure love.

For the first time in my life, I’m not alone. Maya completes me in ways I never knew I needed.

31

MAYA

Ifidget with my wine glass, watching Adrian artfully arrange his chocolate display beneath Amelia’s largest canvas—a swirling mass of reds and blacks that reminds me too much of blood. The irony isn’t lost on me.

“Your friend has quite the eye for darkness,” Adrian murmurs as he passes, His hand skimming across my arm. The touch sends electricity through me.

“Stay away from her,” I whisper, but there’s no force behind it. We both know I don’t mean it.

Amelia circles the room like a protective mother hen, her artist’s smile fixed in place as she explains her work to potential buyers. But her eyes dart to Adrian, watching his every move as he presents his chocolates with theatrical flair.

“This dark chocolate ganache pairs beautifully with the Cabernet,” he tells a captivated group of patrons. “Note how the bitter notes enhance the wine’s complexity.”

“He’s good,” Amelia admits grudgingly, appearing at my side. “The presentation perfectly matches my aesthetic. But Maya...” She grabs my arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie, watching Adrian demonstrate how to taste chocolate to an elderly couple. His movements are precise andpracticed. I know those hands intimately—both their gentleness and their capacity for violence.

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