The Annihilator (Dark Verse #5)(42)

With the way she was stretched and the way she was stimulated, nothing could have compared to it.
She looked at his eyes, seeing his gaze on the place he entered her body, his piercing-covered cock slowly disappearing into her little pussy until he was all the way in, throbbing inside her, and god, she throbbed with him. Hands tied above her head, impaled by him, she felt owned, taken, possessed, and she loved every second of it, loving the surrender of herself to the claim of him, loving the way he fit her.
He held still as she came down from her orgasm, letting her walls adjust to him.
And then he moved.
A noise more animal than human escaped her chest, her eyes clenching shut at the intense sensation straddling between pleasure and pain. He echoed the noise with his own low growl, one hand on the headboard holding one end of the torn camisole that tied her hands, the other on her clit, rubbing and rubbing and intensifying the sensation to too much.
It was too much.
She couldn’t take it.
“No,” she mewled, trying to move her hands, but it was locked in place. He didn’t stop, pulling out so slowly she felt every tissue moved by him and his titanium, a spot inside her being pushed by one of piercings in a way that made stars explode behind her eyes. A fire started from the point, spreading out through her blood, her muscles, her entire body lit up like a supernova until it built and built and built and exploded.
She heard herself screaming until she couldn’t, the sensation so intense her muscles began to spasm, her heart thundering, her spine arching up until she thought her back would break.
She came down, barely, before he thrust inside her again, hard, continuously rubbing her clit, and she began to beg.
“Too much, it’s too much, please, oh god, Dainn please... stop, no, no, too much...” it became gibberish as the supernova exploded again, leaving her a shaking mess while he continued to thrust in and out of her, hard, steady, deep, so deep it was almost painful but oh so good.
“One more, flamma,” she heard him say. “Give me one more.”
She shook her head vigorously, knowing she would die if she came again. It was too intense, too much.
No. Yes. No.
But she had surrendered, and he commanded her body, finding dark places within her she’d never explored before, owning them, taking them, telling her it was okay for her to have them.
Her eyes clenched shut as he took over her body, and she shook, never having felt so much sensation through a body she had hated.
A whirring noise from somewhere above broke through her daze, making her open her eyes slowly.
And she froze.
A small section of the ceiling retracted, leaving behind nothing but clear glass, a graveyard of stars glittering beyond in the sky.
She watched in wonder as he moved inside her, finding his own release, and a tear escaped her eye, rolling down the side of her head as he came.
She stared up, her arousal and emotions mixing together until she couldn’t discern one from the other.
After a lifetime of looking at cracked ceilings and peeling paint while pieces of her were ripped from her, he had given her a ceiling of beautiful stars and slowly put the pieces back together again.
He had touched her soul.

Chapter nineteenLyla


She was sore, so fucking sore between her legs every step was making her excruciatingly aware of how deep, how thick he had been inside her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had injuries to her vagina before; she had. But this soreness, though it hurt, sent warmth coursing through her veins.
She turned the coffee machine on for him, knowing he liked black coffee in the morning, and made tea for herself, wincing as she walked over the counter to get the mugs, her eyes going to see him working out in the garden, his torso gleaming with a thin sheet of sweat, his muscles bunching and releasing as he moved through some kind of martial art routine.
She ogled him as she did in the mornings while the beverages got ready, watching as he finished up and came inside, the force-field of his presence making her nerve-endings stand on attention. It wasn't like the other mornings. She had felt him now, let him in now, and there was an intimacy between them. Usually, he greeted her and went for shower.
This morning, he rounded the counter without stopping, gripped her jaw, and gave her a hard, thorough kiss that left her clutching his arms.
He pulled back, raking a dark, possessive look over her clad in his t-shirt, before coming to a stop on her lips again. His thumb moved over it, igniting little sparks under his touch. With another kiss, he stepped back and went to his coffee.
"We didn't use any protection." He pointed out as he poured in his mug.
Lyla steadied herself against the counter, watching him operate the coffee machine, and felt some of the cheer leave her. "I can't get pregnant," she told him. "After I ran away… there was too much bleeding. They had to operate on me."
He studied her quietly. "And how do you feel about that?"
His favorite question to ask her—how she felt about anything. She shrugged. "I was kind of grateful I wouldn't bring another child into that hell."
He didn't say anything for a long minute. "You know, it was your determination to save him that night that fascinated me. The way you trusted me to take him even though I could see it was killing you. It intrigued me."
Her heart thud with the memory. "How is he?"
"Good," he told her, finally giving her some answers. "He's with… a couple that loves him."
Heart full, she swallowed. "That's good. Thank you."
He didn't say anything to that, and shaking the subject off, she asked the one question that had pestered her for a while. “How did you get so much money?”