Page 50 of Born in Depravity

CATALINA

I wokeup with my chest flat against a warm, hard, muscular, andnakedchest, and a rough and calloused hand between my legs.

It took a while for my brain to catch up to reality, but when it did, my eyes sprang open and clashed with dark, unreadable ones.

I gasped when I felt his fingers rubbing against my slit from behind me, and I wiggled, trying to get free.

Damien used his other hand to hold me still, holding me firmly against him as he continued to explore me in the one place that, until last night, had been left mostly unexplored, by me or anyone else.

The wicked smile he shot my way made my heart stall in fear. He moved his finger again and explored my back end. I shook my head, silently begging him not to, but his smile only widened, like the devil in front of an indefensible sinner, offering her soul up on a silver platter.

Was I the sinner?

Was this my punishment for daring to run away from my father? Tears stung my eyes, but I was able to keep them from falling, remembering him telling me how much he loved it when I cried.

I didn’t want to cry anymore, but I especially didn’t want to cry in front of this man.

My hands wrapped around his big shoulders when I felt him use my slickness to lubricate his finger before he pressed in on the tight ring of muscle behind me.

I looked off to his side, unable to meet his eyes.

Shame shrouded my eyes. I was wet from this.

He knew it.

And he was enjoying it.

He moved his finger slowly, gently, in stark contrast to the man I had come to know.

Damien was not a gentle man.

Damien was the devil incarnate.

“You’re so tight, pet,” he said, his voice clear despite the early-morning hour, which told me he had been awake for some time. Long before I had. I didn’t know what he had done to me while I was sleeping.

I shuddered.

“I knew you would be like this,” he said, increasing his pace slightly. I unconsciously tightened around him, and he let out a small groan.

I froze as I felt something hard pressing against my thigh.

“Fuck,” he said, as he moved faster inside me, his other hand moving over to my bottom before he smacked me there three times, the sting only adding to my humiliation.

“Come, pet. No need to hold back on my account.”

Despite what I’d told myself earlier, I felt the tears dripping down my cheeks. That seemed to only spur him on, and now there was nothing slow or gentle about his pace, but rather harsh and unforgiving.

I felt myself getting more turned on and, unable to take his gaze anymore, I buried my face in his chest, and I let go.

My teeth dug into the skin of his pecs. My back arched slightly, pushing my hard nipples firmly against his chest as my orgasms exploded inside me.

I didn’t even realize I was crying out loud until he shushed me, wrapping his arms securely around me like a lover would to comfort the other.

I didn’t know an orgasm was supposed to feel like this.

So powerful, it … hurt.

Like a metal coil spring breaking from the tension, a release of something long overdue. What was more, I realized I wasn’t crying because of the humiliation forced on me, or the fact that he was touching me without my permission.

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