Page 51 of Devoured
I pulled back, putting a hand up to my mouth.
“You bit me,” I said.
Her jaw was tight. “And you bit me.”
I grinned like an idiot, staring at her. That fire. She could never hide it. I growled and pulled her body close to mine, then shifted, pushing her against the wall. A hand on her chest, my thumb and pointer finger resting around her neck, pinning her there. She sucked in a breath, her lips open, her body trembling. Weightlessness unleashed inside of me, as if the two of us could float into the stratosphere, never be tethered to the ground again. As if holding her neck, on the verge of choking her, would keep us here. In this moment. No future. No past. Only this.
I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, pure warmth coursed through me. I grinned, my jaw wide like a clown’s, but I didn’t stop it. Didn’t want to. The smallest movement, like the texture of her hand in mine, felt like pure joy. Palpable, squeezable joy. Like love. Like timelessness.
Iris’s dark eyes scrutinized me, bringing me out of the moment. But I didn’t care. “You’re on something, aren’t you?” Iris whispered, her voice like a melody I had always heard underneath it all, calling me out. “Roland, we can’t—”
“Don’t tell me what we can’t do,” I murmured. I turned her around, making her face the wall, and grasped her breasts, molding them to my grip. She stifled a moan. “I’m not one of your clients. I own you right now. Understand?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice wispy.
“Good girl.”
I pushed her over the desk, letting my hands roam her body. She was toned in places, soft in others. Her stomach was plush, but her arms were strong and taut, and her breasts, though small, were malleable. My cock twitched against her ass, and I took my time inching her stockings down, touching her thighs, her legs, pressing her close to me.
“You are a treasure,” I said. She moaned. No matter how slow I went, My heart raced, but I accepted it—my heart wasn’t important.Iriswas important. Making her feel good, making myself feel good, using her, using me, doing everything I could to rub her soul against my rib cage, was the only thing that mattered.
I pulled my cock out from my pants, like hot coal out from the fireplace, and pressed it against her slit, my eyes glued to that perfect rosebud. Even pressing against her, she was already wet, my cock dripping with her arousal. She was ready for me every time.
“Have you ever been fucked in the ass?” I asked.
“No. Have you?” she asked.
I chuckled. “I’d be open to it. With the right woman.” I was comfortable with my sexuality; ass play, giving or taking, didn’t change that. “You’ve pegged a man before?”
“When they want me to.” She paused for a second, then said aloud, “I trust you.”
Those words. Had she said those words to trick me? To get this over with? To make me go faster?
Whatever it was, it worked. Using the lubrication of her arousal, I pressed the head of my cock to her ass. Her belly tightened as if she was sucking in a breath of air. I steadied myself, holding my cock there. Her muscular rings held the tip of me, squeezing it tight.
“How does that feel?” I asked. The words were electric inside of me, pushing through my throat.
“Hard,” she said quietly. “Tight.” Then a small breath escaped her: “More.”
“More?”
“More.”
“I didn’t hear ‘please.’”
“Please,” she begged loudly, her voice a whine. “Please, Roland.”
I pushed in further, the head completely swallowed, then all the way down to the hilt. Slowly. Methodically. Making sure to enjoy every millimeter. She flinched, but then the twitch of my hips as I stayed deep inside of her made her moan, and the sound circulated inside of me, rippling through my brain as if we were pure water. I pulsed in and out, steady at first, but the tightness, the slick sensation of her smoothness, made it hard not to go over the edge.
But fuck it. She wanted more.
I grabbed her throat, then pressed the other hand down against her clit, rubbing her there, thrusting my hips, fucking her madly. She cried out a drenching sound, one that I was sure would drown me in her primal screams.
“Roland,” she cried. She shook against me. “Please.”
“Please what?” I growled. “Tell me what you want, Iris. Be a good girl. Bemygood girl, and tell me your every desire. Your every wish. Every dirty, filthy thing you’d do to make me believe you. To make me trust you. To make me give you that one thing you covet so much.”
“Please keep fucking me,” she murmured. “It feels so good.”
“It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, is it?” I asked. I pressed in again, those tight rosy rings clutching against me. “Like you can’t help it. You can’t help but come. Isn’t that right, my little fuck doll? My dirty, filthy girl.”
She moaned, thrusting her cunt into my palms, riding against it as I fucked her ass, harder, and harder, until finally, the abyss was on the other side, and there was nothing I could do to stop us from falling into it. We were both crashing down and all I wanted was to make Iris feel everything, to make her enjoy every second of it, to make her trust me.
