The Annihilator (Dark Verse #5)(45)

“Careful,” she warned him, not sure if it was for his hand or her pussy or her mouth, but saw him gave her a small twitch of his lips.
“Relax for me,” he cajoled, and she relaxed, both her jaw and her muscles.
And then, from both ends, he entered her.
Slowly.
The cold, ice dildo penetrated her from one end, the chill making her want to freeze but the sensation unlike any she’d ever experienced in her entire sexual life. The hot, heavy cock penetrated her from the other end, slowly taking her mouth so as not to injure her with his size or the metal. The cold and the hot, both burning her from both ends, was such an intense, otherworldly experience she couldn’t even process what was happening within her body. Her nipples were stiff and aching, her breasts heavy and needing attention, her skin breaking out in goosebumps and spine arching to keep up with all the mixed signals her brain was sending to her flesh.
He pulled out both himself and the ice at the same time, making her draw a huge breath before she was impaled again, same time, both sides. The groan in her throat got trapped, muffled around his cock, his ladder piercings rubbing the roof of her mouth in a way that made saliva pool in her mouth. The ice on the other hand kept moving in and out of her rapidly, the heat of her walls both melting it and molding around it.
The motion from both ends kept her in place, and she grabbed his hips to anchor herself, right as he leaned over the counter and her. His mouth, his hot, wet mouth, fell upon her cold clit, and Lyla froze, on the brink of an orgasm she could almost touch within her reach, an orgasm that would felt so massive she knew it would end her. Her breathing became harsher, the burn from both cocks inside her spreading under her skin, her toes curling, her legs moving restlessly to find some kind of purchase, her nails digging into his ass as he alternated between flicking and sucking her clit, the ice dildo melting rapidly but still penetrating her as she sucked on him, determined to make him cum with her.
It built and built and built until she reached the crescendo, a scream building in her chest as stars burst behind her eyelids, his mouth and the dildo leaving her, and she came.
She came.
All over the counter.
The biggest, most sensational orgasm of her life.
Her body shook, her legs jerking as the pleasure mounting her exploded for minutes and hours and she honestly didn’t know how long.
Fuck.
It subsided slowly, making her open her eyes and realize her mouth was empty and he was back around the counter, just watching her as she gradually came down.
Reborn. She felt reborn.
Her belief system broken and assimilated again.
The two things she’d hated the most—oral and toys—had given her the most exquisite orgasm of her life. It had been dirty, vulgar and so messy, it should’ve made her feel used. She felt used but she felt cherished, safe, and pleasured—used in a way that left her feeling sappy instead of shameful.
She sat up on the counter, her heart feeling tender, overflowing with an unnamed emotion for this man who was building her back up, one broken piece at a time.
“Come here.” She let her jittery legs dangle down, opening her arms up to him.
He shook his head. “That wasn’t for me.”
It was for her. After being taken and taken and taken from, she was being given.
Fuck, he was undoing her.
“Come here,” she invited him again, and this time he did, walking to her with the lithe grace of a wild panther. As soon as he was within reach, she wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling his chest, pressing her ear to his chest to remind herself that his heart did beat too.
She didn’t take him in, and he didn’t enter her, but he did hold her tightly and let her take whatever she needed from him.
His chest rumbled as he spoke to her head. “Still hate toys?”
“Not with you.” She rubbed her nose over his heart.
His hand came to her hair, pulling her head back, as he looked down at her intently. “There will never be anyone else.”
“Even if I choose another?” she asked, just to provoke him.
His hand on her head flexed, the possession in his eyes so intense it sent her heart fluttering.
“If you ever choose another, make sure you kill me first. Because I—” he bent to whisper against her lips “—will annihilate the fucking world before I let you go.”
There was something truly messed up with her because instead of scaring her, it just made her feel more cherished. She loved that. She loved that she meant enough to him.
Feeling claimed, feeling chosen, Lyla held the man she realized ticked almost every box of love for her.

Chapter twentyHim


She was ready.
He watched as she moved around the kitchen, immensely enjoying the way his t-shirt fell over her petite frame, almost drowning her to her knees. She had begun to make this space her own, and he liked that.
For weeks, they had stayed here. For weeks, almost two months since the night he drove inside her, tasting the sweetness of her cries on his tongue and seeing the burst of sparks across his vision, he had become addicted. Her sounds had different flavors of sweetness too—and nothing had been more delicious than every time he took her to the stars and back.
“Do you think you can handle going back to the city?” he asked, testing her, waiting to see her reaction.
She stiffened with her back to him, her arms freezing on the door of the refrigerator. “Do I have to?” Her voice had a tremor in it. Sweet but oddly sour too. He didn’t like when she spoke in pain or fear.
“Come here.”
Without hesitation, she turned and came to him, sitting down on his lap. He was pleased. For two months, she had learned to trust him, learned to let go, and she had received only pleasure for it. He’d made it his life’s mission to replace her horrors with happiness, the demons in her past with the devil in her present. He wanted her to remain happy. When she was, his world was different. Her eyes sparkled, her hair was shinier, her voice tasted sweeter, the sounds she made hit him in the chest. He wasn’t just addicted to her now; he was addicted to her when she was happy, her laughter a new sound to add to the list of his obsessions. It was such an odd sound, not one he was very familiar with and not one he’d particularly thought would come from her, but once it had, he wanted more. Her breathy sighs, her soft moans, her shattering screams—he wanted them all. The way she said his name, the way she tested his boundaries, the way she looked at him—he was a man crazed for those little things.