Page 61 of Born for Lace

Not a sweet, untouched girl who took a beating from a Shadow. Woke to take on the world again, her trauma tucked in deep, sure to surface in her nightmares when this is all over.

She deserves more.

Deserves peace.

A kind, warm heart.

I pump my cock. Hard. Punishing. So hard it hurts, with no teasing or lingering for enjoyment, only a single-minded determination to blow my fucking nuts so that I can think straight.

The crown of my cock goes blood red, precum licking on the cave wall. I come a lot when I blow, it’s not a small mess, it’s a fucking flood, but this time, it’s going to be another level of intense.

I look down. The hand I used to claim her, covered in pretty scarlet stains, jerks up and down my throbbing cock.

Dahlia’s little body flashes in my mind, and I shuffle and groan through clenched teeth. Bearing down on my hard length, I don’t try to blink her away.

I speed up.

Thinking about her.

About stealing her virginity.

Losing control.

My head drops back, shoulders bunching up as I work my cock harder, faster—fierce.

I imagine visiting her in her sleep and covering her face with a pillow, holding it down just enough that she can breathe but not see or move.

I’ll whisper that, “I need to feel you. Hold on to the sheets. Be a good girl for me. It’s not your fault that I’m doing this to you. It’s mine.”

I’m the monster in this story.

I imagine dragging her lace knickers down trembling white thighs, spreading her open, and pushing inside her.

Fuck.

My legs shuffle wider, restless. Fist flies over my cock. Need it out. Groans crash from my lips as I envisiontakingher, but then…

Fuck me— I imagine she removes the pillow and stares up at me, big green eyes, freckles for days, with a slight bump in her almost perfect nose, a message about her inner strength and courage.

And she smiles.

Images flood me; I don’t fight them. My release grabs my balls. My fist tightens. Hot, fierce blood rushes to my cock in a wave that makes me momentarily nauseous.

And I come, growling and spurting over the pitted limestone wall, letting in the despicable reverie of her enjoying each thrust, taking each inch, and squeezing my cock with her inexperienced pussy.

Heaving, I lean my forehead on my bicep and brace myself harder against the wall. My chest strains. Cock is in agony—good. I need it to hurt. Or I’ll be ready to go again too soon.

Fuck.I have to stay away from her. I have to keep my damn hands off her. Have to. But I… I fucking can’t.

ChapterNineteen

Dahlia

The following day and night are spent hiding inthisroom with Spero, feeding, cuddling, and talking to the chubby assassin.

After a few hours, I find mybeibaotucked in the corner which makes my stomach flip with guilt. Someone went back for it. Someone risked their safety when they returned to The House.

Are people coming for us?

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