Page 156 of Degradation
I reach out for him, wrapping my hands around his neck and he lifts me up so that my thighs wrap around his waist.
“Fuck me.” I say, though even those words don’t sound like me.
Devin growls back, kissing me before I can say anything further and I hear the clang of the knife as it drops to the ground.
I don’t care if my uncle sees this, no, I want him to. I want him to realise what he’s made of me, that I maybe blind now, but I am not weak. Finally, I have someone to champion my cause, someone who is willing to fight for me, not fight to own me.
Devin’s bloodied hands yank up my dress, and I can feel as he fumbles with his belt.
I’m so wet I’m practically dripping and while part of me knows I should feel ashamed to be like this, the other part is so fucking beyond it. Beyond shame, beyond reproach. Beyond it all.
I grab hold of Devin’s cock, guiding it where I need it most. It’s hard to do, considering the height difference between us and clearly he figures out how to fix that best when he grabs my waist and holds me up so I can sink right onto him.
Fuck.
Fuuuck.
It hurts. It stings and yet, I want this pain. Right now, I want everything this monster – my monster - will give me.
I can hear Pearce making more noise, clearly disgusted by the performance he’s witnessing. Well, fuck him, he didn’t give two hoots all those years ago, when I was naked, when I was on my knees, when Gunther had me licking up spilt fucking whisky like a beast.
I roll my hips, trying to adjust, and as I do, that pain turns not to pleasure exactly, but to something in between.
Devin groans, evidently appreciating how my inner muscles are clinging to him. “That’s my queen.” He says almost breathlessly.
He’s thrusting into me, fucking me, while I brace my hands on his shoulders and try to take every bit of him.
I bury my head in the gap between his shoulder and neck. That smell of him engulfs me and somehow it makes me relax, makes my entire body relax.
“So fucking perfect.” Devin growls. “Too fucking perfect. Like a little flower waiting for me to come along and crush you.”
“You can’t crush me,” I gasp back. “Not when I want your pain, not when I need it.”
I feel like those words set him alight. I feel like the man inside me becomes the raging monster I know so well, only he’s not raging at me, he’s raging for me.
He wants me, he needs me, he’s as desperate to have me as I am him.
And best of all, right now, I’ve set him free. All but given him a free pass.
Fear tinges my peripheries. There’s a voice in my head screaming about what he did before, how he hurt me, how he broke me, how he stole my eyes. Could he mistake my words? Could he think that that is what I’m asking for, that I want him to cut out more parts of me? Remove more pieces?
I tremble, feeling that old familiar fear and I hate it. I fucking hate it. I hate the reminder that I was weak, I was pathetic. Iallowed those men to use me, I allowed everyone to use me and all I could do was cry and plead and pray that something would save me because I didn’t have the strength to save myself.
Well, I do now. I have that. I am strong enough now, brave enough, hell, crazy enough too.
I’m as strong as any of these men, stronger even. I just need them to realise it. Starting with my monster.
I pull my lips back and plant my teeth as hard as I can into the soft bit of his muscle above his clavicle. Hard enough that I draw blood. Devin groans, gasping, leaning into it like he craves the pain too.
He drags his hands over the back of my dress, practically ripping it off, and the cool air turns that furnace in me into an inferno.
And then he’s pulling me off, turning me, rearranging us so that I’m now bent over a table of some sort.
I arch my back, needing him to be in me, to be filling me.
He kicks my legs apart, then fists my hair with one of his hands.
He slides himself into my arse and it’s so much deeper from this angle. So much better too.
