Page 48 of Her Cruel Empire
Her tongue licks a line from my dripping pussy up to the tight ring of my asshole above, and I gasp—loud, shocked, trembling.
Then she does it again.
Long, slow strokes with her tongue. Her hands grip my ass cheeks hard enough to leave marks as she pulls me even wider. She buries her face between my cheeks like she’s trying to drown.
Her tongue circles, presses. Flicks, then lingers. I moan—high and helpless—and arch toward her without meaning to.
“Stay still,” she murmurs. Her voice is muffled by my body, but the heat of it scorches me.
I go still. I don’t breathe.
She eats my ass like she’s erasing thought. Erasing memory. I can feel her need in every stroke—hungry, relentless, desperate to lose herself in the taste of me.
It should feel degrading. But it doesn’t. It feels like worship. She’s devouring a part of me no one else has ever dared touch. And I let her. I open wider. I take all of it.
Her fingers find my clit, circling and stroking, driving me inexorably higher. Wet heat and dark want, back and forth, until I can’t tell what part of me is throbbing hardest.
I come fast and hard, gasping her name into the velvet sofa as her tongue pushes inside me and her fingers grip my ass like it’s the only thing tethering her to the earth. Only when my legs give out and I slump over the back of the sofa, boneless and dazed, does she finally pull away. Her breathing is ragged. Her hands are already reaching for me again.
That’s when I understand. It isn’t power that’s driving her. It’s pain.
This is what she does when she can’t cry. When the world is too much. She buries her face in someone else’s body and tries to forget.
I turn my head, still panting, and whisper, “Eva…”
“On the rug,” she says. Her voice is low and husky, the edge of command dulled by whatever storm she’s choking back. “Lie down. Flat. Head by the fire.”
I obey—because I want to. Because I can see how close she is to breaking, and I want to be the thing that holds her together.
The rug is soft beneath my back, just as it was the first time I lay here for her. The firelight flickers at the edge of my vision. I hear her moving. Undressing.
She kneels down at my feet and crawls over me. Slowly. Purposefully.
And then—she turns. Swings one strong thigh over my face and settles herself just above me, her pussy an inch from my mouth, knees on either side of my head. “I want you to show me what a good girl you can be.”
Then her cunt is on my mouth, there’s no more thought. There’s only the taste of her arousal, her hard clit sliding against my tongue when I lick her. Her hands gather up my breasts and squeeze, fingers finding my nipples, pulling, teasing, twisting.
My moans vibrate into her as she rides my face. I grip her hips and hold her there, licking and sucking, swirling my tongue around her clit. And then I feel a hand parting my own pussy, sliding around the wetness there, and then pinching lightly at my clit. My hips jerk involuntarily, and she laughs softly, a husky sound that makes me want to beg her to never stop fucking me.
“I could play with you all day,” she murmurs.
I suck her clit between my lips.
“Good girl. You’re so eager, aren’t you?”
Her words are broken, her breaths short. She’s almost there. And then she gives a sharp cry, her pussy pulsing on my mouth, her fingers twisting at my nipples, pressing down on my clit, sending lightning through me as she makes me come for a second time, in tandem with her.
Ten minutes later, my breath has finally slowed.
The rug beneath me is soft against my bare skin. My thighs are slick, my pulse still pounding from the way Eva touched me—slow at first, then rougher, until the entire world narrowed to nothing but her fingers, her mouth, her voice.
Now she sits in her armchair again, fully dressed, ankles crossed neatly, the picture of composure. She made a brief visit to the bathroom adjoining the room,to freshen up, she said. She came back with her face freshly washed and her hair smoothed down. But even now her gaze lingers lazily over me, heat flickering there like a candle flame that could turn inferno at any moment.
And I lie there and let her look.
Every time she touches me, I tell myself it’s just her right. Just her way of claiming what she’s bought. And every time, my heart doesn’t listen.
A sharp knock at the door makes me jump.
