Page 84 of Spark of Madness

AmI willing to burn in hell for her?

For thetaste of her cunt and a moment of bliss spentinside her?

My head aches from the turmoil of this passion for a sinner who brings such corruption to me. I fear I can only find the cure for this ache between her thighs. A demon possesses her, but it must be within me, too.

“Arlo?” she asks softly, sweetly, her voice whimpering with an edge of begging.

I pull my hand away from my mouth and press my palms to my thighs, bowing my head to take several deep breaths as I work to steady the frantic beating of my heart.

“I won’t allow you to come for my brothers,” I tell her. “I need you to learn how to control your pleasure, and not just when I take it away from you.”

“I won’t come for them,” she whispers.

I shoot to my feet, rounding on her. She lifts her head high to look at me as I move to stand in front of her, straining her neck as she fights to meet my eyes. They only reach as high as my chest in her suspension.

I loosen the buckle of my belt. “What did I say about giving them your words?”

She responds with silence, and her submission screams loudly through it. It calls to me, drawing me closer.

“They’re going to take you from every angle, in every way they can. I want you to know what it feels like to have your breath stolen from you while you’re suspended this way.” With one hand, I bring out my throbbing cock, and with the other, I tap beneath her chin. “Open for me.”

Her tongue runs across her bottom lip before she tugs it between her teeth, hesitation and the desire to obey fighting between her lips. I want to give her the space to come to submission on her own, but I’m in physical pain for the way I need her lips wrapped around me. I’ve never ached so much for relief but in her presence.

More than that, my brothers in God won’t give her a moment of mental space to prepare for their assault. They’ll take from her when she’s not ready to give.

The thought of it has blood boiling in my veins.

Yet, I have to prepare her.

I twist my hand so I can pinch her cheeks. “Open,” I demand, and as soon as her lips twitch to part, I push my cock between them.

She whimpers at my intrusion, but I press forward, keeping the pressure until I’m sunk inside her, and I groan.“Fuck.”

I move my hand around to the back of her head, fisting her hair and holding her steady as I force myself deeper than I should. She gags as I reach the back of her throat, spluttering around me, but I needed that protest from her body to stop me and force me to pull back—I’m so fucking lost in my hunger for her, I can hardly control myself.

I pull all the way out and she coughs. I let go of her hair and her head falls, dropping low as she sputters.

I’m about to reach out and tilt her chin for me again, but she lifts her head on her own. Though she can’t raise her eyes high enough to meet mine, I don’t have to see them to know they hold the force of her strength. She opens her mouth for me and waits.

Sweetsin.

“Mercy, you’re killing me.”

Quite literally, the lust she stirs within me inspires me to sin in ways that could lead to my death. And she’ll be put to hers because she ran—she ran from the same violence and lust she stirred within Hyatt fucking Price. Jealousy and a need to claim heat me. A firestorm swirls in my gut, clenches through my stomach, and rushes blood to my cock.

I need to fuck.

Gripping her, I spin her away from me, and she cries out as I turn her swiftly and unexpectedly. I force her to face the looming darkness beyond the edge of the drop-off. Slinking my hands between the ropes that suspend her, I wrap my palms around her hips, hold her steady, and slam deep inside her.

A cry of relief bursts from her, echoing like a fallen angel’s song through the dark cavern. Heaven and hell collide in our connection, in the dichotomy of celestial reward and punishment that makes this feel right and wrong all at once.

Pain and pleasure.

Sin and sacrifice.

Bliss and fury.

Tightening my grip, I push her forward, then drag her back against me, impaling her deeply with the hope she feels it in her damned, rebellious soul.

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