Page 118 of 10 Days to Ruin

“Sasha.”

My name becomes both prayer and profanity as she bucks back into me. I devour every sound, every twitch. When her head falls back against my shoulder, I crane around to nip the frantic pulse at her throat.

“That’s it,” I rasp against her skin. “Take what you need. Fucking use me.”

Her hands reach up to fist in my hair and drag my mouth to hers. The kiss tastes like tears.

“Not using,” she pants between thrusts. “Never using.Wanting.Fuck?—!”

Her thighs clamp like a vice. An orgasm rips through her with a sob she buries against my palm. I hold still, shaking, letting her pulse around me. Letting her feel every inch I’ve claimed.

Gospodi pomiluy,she looks like a fucking goddess. My handprint, red and purple on her throat… Her tits bouncing with every thrust… My cock splitting her in two… The sweat and joyful tears and black, streaked makeup mingling on her face is the most beautiful painting I’ve ever seen.

“Please,” she whimpers.

I tighten my grip. Her pulse drums against my palm. “Please what?”

“H-harder.”

I snap my hips viciously. The mirror rattles. She chokes on a scream-turned-moan.

“You want them to know?” I hiss. “Want Yvonne to hear her precious merchandise getting fucked raw?”

Her cunt flutters.Christ. I drag her head back by the hair, exposing her throat. “Beg.”

“Sasha—”

“Beg.”

“Please—please don’t stop?—”

I release her throat to shove two fingers in her mouth. “Suck. Taste what you’ve done.”

She moans around the digits, tongue swirling. I fuck her harder, angling deep. When her knees buckle, I catch her with an arm around her waist, never slowing. “That’s it,” I growl. “Take it. Takeme.”

I can feel my own finish coming, but I’m nowhere near ready to be done with this fallen fucking angel. So I tear myself out of Ariel and I toss her on the velvet ottoman. Her legs part instinctively and I descend to my knees to feast on her pussy. Licking, fingering, consuming her like a dying man.

Her eyes roll back in her head as I keep devouring her clit and fingering her. “No. Don’t you dare fucking look away. You look at me when you come, Ariel. For the rest of your life, it’s my face you’ll see when you come the fuck apart.”

She obeys. Barely. But the overwhelm is tearing her face in half a dozen different directions. She looks almost broken as she murmurs, “Please—Sasha—I can’t?—”

“You can.” My fingers spread her wider. “And you will.”

I ignore Yvonne’s concerned “Everything alright in there?”and suck harder.

Everything’s fucking peachy, Yvonne.

When she comes, back arched like a bowstring, thighs crushing my head, I can only laugh. I don’t give her long to soak in the aftermath, though. Instead, I rise and flip her onto all fours. I pull my belt free of my pants. In one quick motion, I loop it around her throat and tighten.

Ariel’s eyes bulge. I can hardly blame her. Fucking in a public dressing room, with a belt around her throat—we’re playing with fire, fucking on the razor’s edge of what’s dangerous and what will make her come harder than she’s ever come in her whole cursed life.

But when I think about it, it all seems appropriate. This has been a bad idea from the start. What’s the harm in pouring gasoline on a burning star?

What little is left of her composure dissolves when I crash into her again. One hand clamps on her waist; another holds the leather leash. Her elbows slide in our mingled mess as I fuck her from behind.

“Watch,” I snarl, angling her face toward the mirror. My thumb digs into the purple bite mark on her ass. “Watch me wreck us both.”

The first thrust punches air from her lungs. The second draws blood where her teeth split her lip. By the third, she’s meeting me stroke for stroke—a frantic, filthy cadence.

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