Page 33 of Ethereally Redeemed

I wonder how he could afford all this when we’ve been scraping by, living on the few groceries we had left. My eyes fall to his bruised knuckles, and I bite my tongue to keep me from asking. It would only ruin the moment.

What did he do to get so much money? Unease spreads through me, but when he brushes his knuckles along my cheek and kisses me until my back falls flat against the hard ground,all thoughts and worries fly away as if taken by the wind and carried far away outside of the forest.

His kiss makes me feel safer than I’ve ever felt with anyone before. I’ve never had a safe place, but Grey Madden has become the safest place of all.

His lips part, igniting a feverish frenzy that makes me lose control of all sanity. The graveyard’s eerie setting and silence fades into the background as the intensity of his kiss consumes me completely, wholly, utterly.

With deliberate, heated movements, he slides my cargo pants down to my ankles, then sheds his jeans. He leans in, brushing his lips against the scars on my wrists—those caused by both of us. I swallow hard, my eyes fixed on the fading tissue where the rope sat tightly around my wrists our very last day back at the dollhouse.

“Eyes up here,” Grey demands, pulling me back to the present.

I meet his intense eyes, my breath hitching as his fingers hook underneath my damp panties. My arousal is undeniable, and I refuse to be ashamed of it.

“My little doll is so wet,” Grey mumbles.

Without another word, he slides a finger deep inside my slick opening, and my moan rings out, mingling with the rustling of the trees. He delivers a sharp slap to my pussy, leaving a stinging sensation rippling through me, then plunges his fingers in again, making me clench around him. Lifting my shirt with his other hand, he rubs one of my nipples before leaning down and taking it into his mouth. He sucks and licks, alternating between the two until I’m on the brink of losing control. Just as I’m about to unravel, my moans carried away by the breeze, he abruptly pulls back, leaving me gasping in frustration.

“What the fuck?” I scream.

He slaps my pussy sharply in response, making me even more wet and buckling my hips in a desperate motion to get what Ineed.

“Take me out,” he orders, and I obey, clenching my thighs to get that freaking friction he denied me.

He’s still laying above me, and he’s hard, cock straining against his boxers as I remove them. I can feel the steady pulse of his length in my hand.

“Now open your legs for me.”

I do as he says, eager for that relief I know only he can provide.

“Good girl.”

His hands roam my body, exploring every curve with an intensity that makes me shiver. He prods my entrance, teasing me with a slow push until he finally slides inside me. A whimper escapes me in pleasure as he fucks me deeply, each thrust meeting my hips on instinct with a perfect rhythm.

My inner wall clenches as he fucks me into oblivion. Each stroke finds that sensitive spot, making me cry out. We move together in a dance of raw intimacy, our breaths mingling together in the chilly atmosphere. The pleasure charges the air until it feels as if it will consume me and bring me to the afterlife.

I’m already teetering on the edge, the denial of my orgasm heightening the ache.

“Don’t you dare come, little doll,” he breathes harshly, thrusting relentlessly.

“I’m going to—” I cry, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as he pinches my nipples, then slaps them.

His hand goes up to my throat, squeezing with well-renowned precision. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

I want to curse at him, say ‘fuck it’ to his orders, but the threat of losing my release entirely looms all too seriously.

“Say you can’t take it if you want me to pull out. Or say you can handle it if you want more,” he growls.

“That’s not how it works,” I moan.

He slows his thrusts, and I cry out with frustration.

“Then show me just how much you can take, little doll. Prove to me what a good doll you can be.”

Desperation and need flood my senses, like an addict needing their next fix, and the withdrawal they suffer without it.

“I can handle it,” I manage to gasp, my voice unsteady with both defiance and desire.

“Good little doll,” he purrs, then thrusts harder and deeper, driving me to the edge.

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