Page 17 of Hunting Her
Ripping out the knife, the serrated blade tears at his flesh. His finger pushes deeper as his moan vibrates against me. There isn’t so much as a flinch from him at the removal of the blade.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip as the discomfort of his finger slowly morphs to pleasure. It shouldn’t feel this good to be pinned up against the rough bark of a tree with a demon kneeling at my feet. My goal is to escape, but my hand in his hair isn’t pushing him away anymore.
It’s pulling him closer, desperate for him to bring me the release that’s taunting me from just out of reach.
His tongue works magic as I carve more wounds into his back and shoulders. I hope that maybe the sight of all that blood will turn me off and banish the arousal.
It doesn’t.
A sick, twisted part of me loves how he focuses wholeheartedly on making me feel good, while basking in his own pain. I carve a heart shape on his back and move my other hand to hold one of his horns, grinding down on his face.
Izoran groans as I use him, holding me tight enough that I can’t get away. I’m only allowed to move closer, to take more of his tongue, not less. He’s not going to let me escape.
He wants me too badly.
I shouldn’t be enjoying the attention or getting off on how much pain I can give him. I should be fighting, thrashing, cursing him out for touching me, even though I technically gave them permission when I agreed to this sick game.
I don’t want to like his touch.
But there’s tension in my core, the sensation building by the second as he fucks me with that single finger, kissing and licking and sucking at my clit. I haven’t felt this in years, and only ever by my own hand before, but I know where my body is heading. He’s going to make me come.
There’s no way I can stop him.
My weapon means nothing. Tearing the blade across his skin only makes his groans vibrate across that sensitive part of me. He gets off on the pain, and I’m desperate for more of his pleasure.
Dragging the knife down from his shoulders, I press it against his throat. I don’t know how close I am to puncturing the skin—maybe I already am, I can’t see. It forces him to look up with half-lidded eyes, his lips wet with me.
“Go on.” He curls his finger until I’m forced to let out a breathy moan. “Slit my throat, if that’s what gets you off.”
“It’s not?—”
“I won’t tell if you won’t. You like hurting me, Fire. There’s more demon in you than you think.” He gives me that smirk that makes me want to punch him in the face. “By dawn, you’ll have even more demon in you. More than you thought possible, if you get what I’m saying.”
I slice. Only to shut him up, because his innuendo is obvious—and not going to fucking happen. I’m playing to earn my freedom.
Not to get stuffed full of demon dick.
His blood spurts, coating my inner thighs in the thick substance. He coughs once, spits blood on the ground, and buries his face back between my legs.
He’s impossible to kill. Impossible to phase.
I know he’s feeling pain, because when I made some of the particularly brutal cuts, I saw him wince. Izoran just… doesn’t care.
I break, the torture of his tongue too much to bear. A full-body shudder rolls over me and my pussy spasms, trying to trap his finger inside me. Iz groans, sucking harder at my clit.
Whining, I shove at his horn, trying to push him back. He’s taken his prize, and I don’t have anything more to give—I’m too sensitive for him to keep touching me like this.
He’s immobile against my attempts to move him, his gaze darting up to meet mine. “You can’t get rid of me yet, that was only the first one.”
“First one?”
“Our queen needs at least three.”
I gasp as he renews his efforts, and I can’t push him away anymore. My body melts like butter against the tree trunk. I’m trembling, and I hate that his hold on me is the only thing keeping me from collapsing.
He’s quick to bring me to the peak again, the sensations washing over me in a weaker second wave, like a mini orgasm. And he wasn’t kidding about forcing at least three from me. Izoran’s hot tongue doesn’t leave my pussy, and he adds a second finger to stretch me open.
“I can’t.” I try to push his shoulder away with the tip of the knife this time, my grip weak.
