Page 85 of Devil's Doom

His scent is strong, and I could lie I hate it, but I don’t. It’s so intimate, to smell him like this, thickening the air with his desire for me. As I lick my lips, his cock jerks in response. The pink light bathes his length, making it seem gentle, even though I know it’s not.

This organ is made for forcing open, and by gods, I will let it inside me without another protest. There is no wound yet, and I press my lips together, wavering. If I am truly honest with myself, I might admit I don’t need the temptation of blood, after all. I wanthim.

“Look, sweetheart. It’s just the tip. You don’t have to work hard for it at all.”

A tiny, shallow cut appears in the glistening head of his cock. He inhales sharply, and I know it costs him pain. That, finally, makes me surrender. He hurts himself to have me here. Maybe we’re both humbled tonight.

I take the tip in my mouth, remembering another time when I knelt for him. But it was like he said—a trade. This is different, and when he moans gutturally, his stomach flexing with pleasure, I realize we’ve never had sex for the simple joy of it. It was always a game.

But is tonight truly different?

“I adore your mouth,” he grits out when I pull back, no more blood falling on my tongue, just the earthy taste of his precum. “Here, love. Just this once. And I’ll let you go.”

Another cut appears halfway down his shaft, nestled just against a thick, bulging vein. I take him in my mouth, relishing the slight trembling of his hand in my hair. I don’t move up and down like I did that time, only keeping his hot weight in my mouth and sucking, swallowing the blood with greedy huffs.

It’s barely enough. I don’t think I’ll see any magical wonders tonight, but I’ll still take every sip. The space behind my sternum is comfortable and warm, filled with him.

“There, love. Take me whole until I come down your throat. And I’ll let you go.”

When I look up, his eyes are delirious, white teeth bared in a pleasured snarl. I try to scoff, but it’s breathy and wanton, and yet, I don’t care, because he can’t mock me now. We’re both trapped in this helpless need for each other.

“Liar,” I whisper when a wound appears further down his shaft.

I take him deep, choking instantly. He tried to train me once, but it was probably too little, too long ago. I pull back, and he lets me, his breathing faster and faster, that thick vein throbbing with his frantic heartbeat.

“This will be the last time,” he murmurs when another cut appears.

I desperately cram him down my throat to reach the wound with my lips. He grunts, throwing his head back. When I choke and pull away, his legs shake uncontrollably. He widens his stance, hooves sinking in the grass smelling of late summer herbs.

“Well then, it was fun, but since this was the last time…” I look up, huffing with laughter.

I know he’s about to come. Nothing would pull me from this spot, and yet, I can’t help but tease him. Woland’s brows furrow in an angry frown.

“You know very well it’s not over. We’ve barely started. Suck my cock, little witch, or I’ll fuck your face.”

Before he cuts himself again, I take him in my mouth and suck, my hand wrapped tightly around his base. He groans with pleasure, thrusting frantically, and I take him as deep as I can. It’s a tug of war, his cock ramming further than I let him, my nails helplessly scratching his hard buttock when he grips the back of my head. I take it, because he only needs a moment before his release tumbles down my throat, and he shakes, as helpless as I am in this exchange.

When I look up, he seems to be in pain, his forehead lined with tension.

“Is it over, then?” I ask quietly, holding onto his narrow hips.

He nods once. “It’s over. Just the bath now. You can relax, love. It’s over.”

I don’t believe him, but I don’t say it. Woland closes his eyes, shakes his head once, and picks me up without effort. He steps into the bath with me in his arms, nestling me between his comfortably spread legs, my back to his chest. He is still hard behind me, his breathing ragged, but for now, he doesn’t try anything. I relax against him, breathing deeply as the heat penetrates into my bones.

“I wanted to do this every night,” he murmurs, long fingers caressing my outer thighs under water. “Just take you to the bath and forget about my shitty day. I was strong and I didn’t, but sometimes, I snuck into bed with you. Just for a while. Just to feel you against me.”

“That would explain why the bed sometimes smelled like you.”

I thought that, too, was a figment of my imagination, but it turns out I didn’t imagine anything. I still don’t understand him, though.

“But why did you hide from me?”

He exhales with a low chuckle. “You think now that you got me drunk and emptied my balls, I’ll tell you everything?”

His voice is playful, and I snort. “Yes. So tell me.”

He is silent for a long while, during which his curious fingers stray to my inner thighs, parting my legs and stroking my skin with seemingly aimless ease. I wait. Finally, Woland huffs, ruffling the hair on the top of my head.

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