Page 54 of Devour
“The doctor says it’s good for your healing,” she says sweetly.
I’m going to castrate that damn doctor as soon as I get out of this bed. I chew reluctantly, and she keeps feeding me fruit until she’s satisfied, I’ve eaten enough.
Then, she removes the covers. I can’t hide the excitement spreading across my face. I quickly swallow the last bite in my mouth, lifting my hips as she pulls my pants down just enough to release my cock.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Ariel
Ican’t believe he’s thinking about sex in the state he’s in. I know he’s trying to act like he’s fine, like the pain isn’t still clawing at him but I can see it. I see it in the way his breath catches when he moves, the way he tries so hard not to lean too much on me after the bathroom.
I felt the strain in his muscles, the tension in his jaw when he thought I wasn’t looking. And that soft, broken grunt when he sat on the bed nearly shattered me.
If I hadn’t seen him lying in a pool of his own blood two days ago, I might’ve believed his performance. But I did see it. I lived through the terror of thinking I was going to lose him.
The look on his face when I popped the first cherry into his mouth was so comical I almost laughed but I had to feign seriousness as I told him it was the doctor’s order. I should probably warn the doctor the next time he comes to change his bandage.
Now he’s giving me that wounded puppy look, that didn’t get what it wanted, as I continue to feed him. It stirs something deep inside me.
He’s being careful not pushing, just watching me with quiet hope, as if asking without words. And maybe that’s why I give in.
Maybe that’s why I let myself want him back. Because I do—so much it terrifies me. I want to feel him. To touch him. To remind myself he’s still here. That I didn’t lose him. That he’s real. Warm. Alive…
I release his cock from his pants, and it springs free like it’s been waiting for my touch. He sucks in a sharp breath as I wrap my hand around him.
His length is thick, hot, and pulsing beneath my fingers, the veins pronounced and ridged under my touch. My thumb and fingers don’t even meet around him—he’s that big.
I’ve never seen him this close before. Never touched him bare like this. Every time he fucked me, he was in control. He never let me explore, never let me touch him. But now…
His hand finds my nipple through my shirt, and I bite down hard on my lip to stop the moan from escaping as he teases it, rubbing and rolling until it peaks, sensitive and aching. Even injured, he still wants to take control.
I pause my hand on his length and move back, forcing him to let go of my nipple. He stretches toward me again, but I tap his hand away. “No touching,” I murmured.
He looks at me, brow furrowed like he can’t believe I’m serious. Like the idea of me stopping him is impossible.
Well, I’m giving him a taste of his own medicine. Now he knows what it feels like to be at his mercy when he fucks me.
Not that I haven’t loved every second of him owning my body. I have. But now… the roles are reversed. And I suddenly want to know what it feels like to make him beg.
To see how far I can push him when I’m in control. Who knows if I’ll ever get the chance again. “Do you want me to stop?” I ask, tightening my fist around his length.
He doesn’t answer, doesn’t try to touch me again but the look he gives me is lethal. Cold. Controlled. A silent promise:You’ll pay for this the moment I can move again.
A shiver runs down my spine, and I almost chicken out—almost. But I tell myself he can’t do anything right now. So, I add my other hand to his cock, stroking him with both, moving in tandem as I return his glare with one of my own.I dare you.
There’s a dark glint in his eyes before his head drops back, muscles straining in his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing with every sharp breath. I stroke him harder, faster, watching the way his body reacts—tight, trembling, desperate. He thinks I’m done with him. He’s wrong.
A bead of precum glistens at the tip of his cock, and a deep groan escapes him. His breathing grows labored, sweat starting to sheen across his chest. I keep going, feeling his hips lift, meeting my strokes.
His teeth clench. He’s close. And just when I know he’s on the edge, I stop. I pull my hands away completely. He gasps, chest rising and falling, eyes flying open in disbelief.
“Why did you stop?” he manages to choke out.
“I don’t want you to cum yet.”
“Kitten,” he growls, low and rough. “You’re playing with fire.”
I rise from the bed and stand in front of him, meeting his gaze. He’s pissed. Not at me, exactly but at the fact that I’m denying him what he wants.
