Page 50 of That Sik Luv

His need to protect me while allowing me to thrive has me losing my mind to my body.

“I know, baby,” he says, peering at my lips as his rough, calloused hand travels to cup the curve of my breast. “I’m gonna take care of that ache so you can think clearly again.”

He slaps my breast, causing me to feel the sting travel directly to my center like a lightning bolt of intense pleasure, before surprising me by roughly flipping me over on my stomach. With one leg still tied to the bed, the rope around my ankle, he props me on my knees, holding my hips as he slides off the bed behind me.

I close my eyes, breathless, feeling entirely exposed with my ass up in the air, naked and open before him.

His hands slowly skim up the backs of my thighs as he talks.

“Prettiest little cunt I’ve ever seen,” he says, his voice not muffled by the mask like it was before.

The words he uses are so vulgar and horrific. He uses his fingers to part my lips, holding me open for his viewing pleasure.

“I’m gonna hurt you,” he warns. “I’m gonna fuck this tight, pink, pure little pussy until it’s swollen and red, and you pass out from the pleasured pain.”

My toes curl into themselves and I gasp as I feel him spit on me. I look back over my shoulder at him, too stunned to move. I don’t think any of this is normal. Then again, I don’t know what normal is.

All I see is the top of his black mask on his head before my face falls flat to the mattress when his warm, wet tongue laps the length of me.

“Oh, God,” I moan at the sensation that’s blowing my mind.

I’ve never felt anything like it. The soft, warm, spongy tongue touches the most intimate part of me. His lips surround my clit as he suctions the part that aches the most. I’m on fire, burning internally with the tightness within me, bound so tight I could burst.

“There you go,” he murmurs into me, flicking me with his tongue again, making the sexiest smacking sounds with his lips. “Call for him. See who comes first.” He flicks his tongue again before sucking on that sensitive, swollen part of me with his lips. “Him, or me.”

His finger runs the length of my slit, and I feel just how wet it is down there. Pushing the finger into me, I buck my hips back, fisting the comforter between both hands on the bed.

“Aero,” I moan, feeling myself take his finger and squeeze onto it.

He removes it slowly before I feel another finger joining it. There’s a slight sting this time as he rotates the digits, almost testing to see how far he can stretch me.

“I’m taking all of this for myself,” he whispers, pulling the fingers out and trailing them up to my puckered hole that clenches when he touches it.

It feels so foreign, strange, and inherently wrong, and I can help but wish he’d touch anywhere else.

“You own me now,” he declares, before I feel the sharp sting of a bite on the flesh of my ass.

Before I can even react, I feel his hand grip the hair at my crown. Pulling my head back until I’m facing the ceiling, he says, “Know this, Briony. There’s no escaping me.”

I swallow, trying to breathe through my nose to calm myself and keep from screaming. I’m not in control, and I don’t think I want to be. I want to escape him, only for him to chase me down again.

I feel his mouth back on me again, and a loud throaty moan leaves my chest. It’s as if I have no control over my body anymore. He’s the conductor, conducting the chaos that is my orchestra, the music he creates becoming more intense with every stroke of that skilled tongue.

My eyes roll to the back of my head, my stomach feeling so tight I could explode internally. I feel the rupture bound to release; the break, the crest in the wave…

“I can’t...it’s happening...” I breathe.

His tongue laps my slit before an intense flicking motion vibrates through me as fingers fill me in the place that aches to be filled.

With my eyes closed tightly, the most intense feeling washes over me. It stems from my lower stomach exploding outward throughout my spine. I hold my breath as it cycles through me, this euphoric, mind-blowing sensation that literally cripples me. I cry out, embracing it.

And then, as quick as it washed over me, I’m numb all over.

My breaths fall from my lungs as my toes curl into themselves, my hands still fisting the blanket before me.

I feel my hair getting pulled from the crown again, lifting me from my hazy bliss.

“Suck,” he demands, leaning over me with his tongue out.

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