Page 92 of Devil's Doom

I clench my jaw and turn my head away. He leans in to kiss my temple and combs through my hair carefully. My entire scalp heats up and itches. His face is frozen into a look of absolute focus as he urges me to sit up so he can get the back of my head, too.

Unpleasant minutes pass until Woland pulls back, wrapping a coil of luscious, shiny hair around his palm. He strokes it with his thumb, smiling warmly.

“Now, that’s better.”

A thud of hot, burgeoning urgency pulses in my stomach. I can’t take it. I need something to balance it out, and so I grab his hand and press it to my breast.

“Fuck me hard. Use me. Please. And don’t speak. No more of that.”

His smile falls away as he cocks his head to the side, studying me with a frown. I cringe away, expecting him to refuse, but his face grows hard, and he pulls my hair sharply, baring my throat.

“If I get too rough, tell me to stop,” he murmurs before his teeth pierce my skin.

I clutch the sheets as he drinks my blood with greedy grunts. One hand still tangled in my hair, he seeks my nipple with the other, pinching hard before he rams two fingers into me. My legs fall open, and I exhale in complete relief.Finally.All that sappy talk made my heart hurt, and this is the perfect cure.

I like the edge of pain with my pleasure. He’s the one who taught me that.

He pulls away from my neck, plunging his slick fingers into my mouth. They go deep, and I gag. He kisses me roughly, teeth scraping my lip, while his hand wraps around my throat in a possessive gesture I know so well.

With shocking speed, he flips me around until I’m on my belly. Ropes slither toward my wrists and ankles, stretching me to the point of discomfort. He caresses my spine once until the skin stretching over my vertebrae tingles. My hair is in my face, my neck twinging, but he makes no move to fix it.

Good.

My need for him to be bad and prove me right is overwhelming. I am too weak to resist his lies, and if he keeps spinning twisted words of love while looking at my face as if it’s the single most beautiful wonder in his world, I’ll lose. My heart will break out of the protective shackles I locked it in and fall right into his callous hands.

Brutal Woland is who I need. I need the devil who makes me hurt and reminds me what I am—a tool and a toy.

When he kneels between my uncomfortably spread legs, I expect him to slam into me with force, making it hurt. So it’s a relief and a frustration, too, when he parts me gently, the tip of him barely grazing my skin as warm hands spread my cheeks open.

He doesn’t hurry, teasing me with this excuse for a penetration, and I clench my fists and try to squirm. I am utterly at his mercy, and I hate that mercy is what he chooses to show me.

“Is this the best you can do?” I taunt him, my voice muffled by the pillow.

“I’ll use you how I want,” he says through clenched teeth, thrusting just a bit deeper. “But I can do worse.”

He pulls my hair sharply. I cry out from the strain, my head lifted so high, I struggle to breathe. As he thrusts halfway in, pulling even harder, I clench with helpless need.

“It’s so perverse that you lovethis,” he hisses, pulling out. “Yet when I want to make love to you the way every consort before you begged me to, you hate it.”

“You were supposed to be quiet,” I force out through my stretched, hurting throat.

“You don’t make the rules.”

When he sinks in to the hilt with a moan of pleasure, fear squirms in the pit of my stomach. In my urgency to make the world right again, I forgot my basest fear, but now I realize where he put his mark. He said he would heal me only if I let him, but his word is not good enough.

“What does the mark do?” I ask hoarsely, coughing from the effort.

“It shows anyone who sees you naked who you belong to.”

“What else?”

“Nothing else.”

“You’re lying.”

He lets go of my hair with a heavy sigh and pulls out, and gods, but I hate myself for being so afraid. Ineedthis.

“Fine. I don’t care which hole I get to fuck.”

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