Page 56 of Surviving the Merge
“Are we going inside, or will we be giving the neighbors a show?” Still Damon then.
“Damon,” I said pleadingly.Don’t give me a choice.
He tilted his head, contemplating me. Trying to determine what I was really saying. “Get in the house. Now.”
He understood.
Shoving me into the foyer and slamming the door, Damon seized my mouth, and all I could do... was nothing. I’d breathe if and when he decided I needed to.
He abruptly ripped his lips from mine. Squeezing my jaw painfully between his thumb and forefinger. “I can taste him on you,” he said through clenched teeth.
Nothing short of my complete annihilation would do. I was in that kind of mood. So, instead of choosing the path of self-preservation, I instead asked, “What are you going to do about it?” My words were barely audible with the hold he had on me.
Everything came to a grinding halt. Time. Breathing. Heart beating. The earth circling the moon. Everything stopped. Until it didn’t.
“Have you fucked him?” he asked in an eerily calm manner. His fingers on my jaw loosened.
“And what if I did?” I stepped back. Fully out of his hold. But before I could get far, his hand snapped out, snake-fast, and wrapped around my neck. He raised me to my tiptoes. I tugged and scratched at his wrists. My body's natural reaction to defend itself. But it was useless; I was no match for Damon. My eyes bulged, and my mouth opened on my silent scream.
“I’m going to ask you one more time, Just. Don’t play games with me. This could cost someone his life. It will cost you as well. Did. You. Fuck. Him?” His hand slackened a small fraction, and my heels once again met the floor.
My eyes watered and I tried to take in as much air as possible as I weighed the pros and cons of taking things further. But the hard set of his jaw and the frenzied but vulnerable severity of his pitch-black stare confirmed that I had him where I wanted him. “No. I didn’t.”
His voice shook. “You’re going to regret fucking with me.”
I’m counting on it.
Damon released my throat. Not even a full breath later, my shirt was ripped from my body. Buttons crashed to the hardwood floor like hail beating down on a tin roof. His growl reverberated off the walls of the entryway. My t-shirt met the same death. As did my pants. The leather tie that held my hair up yanked away. Thick, white, spools of hair fell over me, blocking my vision.
Damon dragged me to the staircase and forced me to bend over. My hands were positioned roughly onto the balustrade, and my feet were kicked wider than shoulder-width apart.
Panting heavily, I looked over my shoulder. Only his shirt had been removed. And his belt. My legs quivered as I waited in suspense to see which end he would choose to hold and which end would come crashing down.
The buckle. He chose to hold on to the buckle.
I quickly faced forward and braced myself for what was to be unleashed, but the searing pain was impossible to prepare for. I heard the leather swish through the air before it made contact with my flesh. “Arrrghhh, shit!”
“Silence!” he demanded.
I bit down on my tongue so hard I drew blood. My mouth filled with the metallic taste of copper. Damon was merciless. No words of ownership spilled from his lips. No possessive holds to my hips or rough rubbing of the spine with his unoccupied hand. That would come much later. Right then, his desire was to make me pay. To hurt me like he hated me. I lost count of how many times his weapon of choice connected with my fevered skin. I only knew that by the time I heard him spit in his hand, stroke his cock, and enter me without preparation, I could no longer stand on my own.
“Damon... fuck...” I hadn’t been penetrated in over a week. Even taking his massive cock daily wouldn’t allow for a painless entry using saliva as lube.
“This is what the fuck you wanted, right?” he screamed as he beat into me. It didn’t take more than a moment for me to feel my insides fill with wet heat. Serving as an extinguisher to the dry heat of a second ago. His rhythm didn’t falter as he rode out his climax. I was on the ledge of my own. My cock rose higher, and pre-cum shot onto the floor. Before I could deep dive off the cliff, Damon pulled out and spun me around. With my back to the banister for support, I watched him drop to his knees and take me to the back of his throat. With his middle finger pressed against my taint, I erupted on a garbled cry. Tensing my glutes and pulsing at the hips.
I shivered as the cold air hit my wet, languid cock when Damon removed it from his mouth and stood. My vision went in and out, but I clearly made out the fact that his dick was rock-hard and ready.
“I’m not done with you, yet,” he snarled.
He dog-walked me upstairs by my hair and handcuffed me to the bed.
That was hours ago.
Now, I was positioned on all fours, being spanked by hand for the third time that night. We’d fucked so many times that the brand-new bottle of lube sat empty next to me.
If Damon wasn’t in me, something else was. A finger, a tongue, a dildo. Anything he could find. We had to get rid of the sheets. The silk material conflicted with our rigorous fucking. And thank God the bed was nailed down. Who knew where it would be if not. We were both sopping wet from sweat, cum, saliva, blood, and tears—my tears. The mattress would surely need replacing. But I didn’t want him to stop.
My throat was raw from all the cock I’d sucked, and my ass?inside and out?had seen better days. My legs trembled. My head pounded. And my arms had been numb since the third hour. But I didn’t want him to stop. There was something in me still left untouched. Unsatisfied. In a place too deep to name. Too deep to be reached.
