Page 57 of The Art of Obsession
I pull my cock out. Bloody. My length hardens and swells all the more. Confession in those two silver moons shining, unbroken in the darkest, starless sky. My undying light.
I’veneverfucked a virgin…until now.
A dark and twisted hunger crosses the faces of the men—an acknowledgment that they will never hold, feel, or understand what I have done in this moment. They’re fucking starving for her.
Gripping her hair, grinding my bloody dick against her folds, I lean in to growl above her lips, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She meets me head-on. Those eyes like gleaming blades. “Because…” she whispers, lifts her chin, and sweeps her nose along my cheek until she presses her lips to my ear and reveals, “I want you to feel like an asshole.”
Everleigh nips my ear, then fucking bites the side of my neck. Like a punishing goddess, feminine and feral but too soft, too sweet, too pure. Like she’s marking me, staking a claim.
Christ, my heart clenches, but my cock is damn near ready to explode. Need back inside her, fucking her as deep as I can go, consuming her.
Chuckling darkly, I bite her bottom lip and purr, “That backfired, Little Quill. Greatly.”
I push back inside her, take her savage moan into my throat, and start thrusting, fucking the best and most fulfilling vessel of my damned soul. Her cunt sucks my cock with the heat and force like a golden sun.
I go balls deep, driving inside her harder, memorizing the kaleidoscope of emotions on her face. I feed on them. Hate, fury, agony, fear, yes—but also a raw pleasure, desire, and lust. Her nipples are hard, little rosebuds. She’s flushed, glowing like a star.
She doesn’t fight me. But she’s not frozen, not in shock. She’s taking. She’s clenching. And slowly, breath by breath, she’s softening into the bed and lifting her hips toreceiveme.
Fuck, this isn’t just cathartic. It’s nirvana. Sheer energy. Ultimate divinity.
The men’s breaths grow even more labored. I grin with cunning self-satisfaction because some have taken out their cocks, fisting them, getting off on my art brought to life. They’re entranced by my control, the raw intensity of my bond with her.
The second Everleigh flicks her eyes to the spectators, drawn by their movements, her lips part, her eyes turn gray with a deeper hurt.
I grip her jaw, shake her, and summon her. “Eyes on me, Little Quill. They do not exist. It’s just us. The historian and the artist. The muse and the master.”
She doesn’t let go. But she gives me the greatest gift of surrender. Her muscles squeeze around me, and she’s dripping all over my cock.
I’ve never seen a more beautiful creature. Never such an explosion of light and color and shadow. All the galleries in the world could not possibly hope to capture her.
She narrows her eyes. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks. “You think this makes you an artist?”
I crouch beside her, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face with my bare hand. Her eyes burn with defiance and agony.
“No,” I say softly, meeting her gaze. “It makes us immortal.”
24
He’s marked me. I’ll return the favor?—
Chapter Playlist:
“Addicted” – Kelly Clarkson
“Going Under” – Evanescence
“I Will Break” – Flyleaf
“Ashes” – Celine Dion – Lauren Babic Cover
EVERLEIGH
I hatehim with the fire of a thousand suns!
Because my pussy is burning with the fire of a thousand fucking suns. I don’t know what’s worse. The pain down there or the one on my chest. My whole body is shaking.
