Echo (Black Lotus #2)(59)

His body grows rigid when he moves his hand to my throat, wrapping his fingers around my neck in a light choke. He releases a husky growl, and I can feel his cock strengthen and throb inside of me.

“Touch yourself,” he orders, and I obey.

Licking my fingers first, I drag them down to my swollen clit and begin rolling them in soft circles. My eyes swim out of focus as our bodies reunite consensually for the first time in months.

His grip constricts around my throat, depleting the amount of air I’m able to take in, but I don’t panic as my body finds comfort in the familiarity of his tender force during sex.

“Put it inside of you so you can feel me,” he instructs, and I reach down a little further, my neck pushing against his hand as I slip my finger alongside his cock, sinking it in my * at the same time he slams inside of me. I pump my finger in rhythm with him. Touching us in this way, feeling the warmth of our mended bodies, slick in arousal, it’s too much.

“Oh, God,” I mewl loudly as I feel my walls pulse around my finger and his cock.

“Don’t ever walk away from me again,” he scolds.

“Never.”

“You wanna come?”

“Yes,” I strain around the cords of my throat that he continues to hold hostage.

And in his feat of control over me, he orders, “Ask permission.”

“Please.”

My body rises in a fiery storm amidst the nearly freezing temperature.

“Ask!”

“Please,” I repeat in a breathless whimper. “I need it.”

“Don’t do it. Don’t defy me,” he warns, and when I reach the brink, I clamp my thighs to his hips with as much strength as I can to slow him down.

Holding on to my breath, I fight with everything in me to ward off the orgasm that’s about to erupt.

“That’s it,” he delights in his power over me.

But I can’t hold on. Looking in his eyes, I give in, “Can I come? Please, I need it.”

“You want it?” he taunts.

“Yes.”

“Fuck yourself faster,” he instructs, and I do.

I lose all control and begin fingering myself against his cock that swells inside of me, spurring my explosion.

I come.

Hard and wild.

Every muscle in my body tightens in spasms of euphoria, bucking my hips into Declan, greedy to keep the pleasure going. And then I feel his release. He soaks my finger that’s still inside of me, f*cking myself while he fills me up. I don’t stop moving as his cum seeps out of me, running down my hand.

His teeth grit as he keeps his eyes on me the whole time, and I watch him grunt in pleasure through the shatters of light that fracture my vision into a thousand prismatic flakes of pure ecstasy.

When our bodies slow, he lets go of my neck, and my head falls to his shoulder as I allow my body to slack against his. He holds me for a moment while our hearts calm and we catch our breath.

I wish for frozen time, forgotten sins, and never-ending love.

But I know this isn’t love on his part. I’m not sure what it is, but I know it isn’t that. I want it to be though, so I keep my head tucked into the crook of his neck, scared to move, because I know the moment I do, reality will resume, and his loathing for me will continue.

I wrap my legs tighter around him, wanting to prolong having him nestled inside of me, but my attempt at pushing time away doesn’t last. When I feel Declan pulling out of me, I slip my finger out and wrap my hand around his still hardened cock. But he doesn’t allow the contact, taking my wrist and forcing me to let go.

With my feet steady on the ground, I watch as he shoves himself back into his pants. He doesn’t utter a word, and his eyes are no longer on me. And then he’s gone, turning his back and walking away from me, leaving me with my pants down, covered in his cum, in the bitter cold.

Maybe I should feel used and dirty. Maybe I should hate him. Maybe I should give up and be done. But my heart won’t let me. Because in the end, I know I’ll always want him any way I can get him.

I’m an epicurean for his pain.

He’s my sadist, and I’m his masochist.

We’re the reflection of each other’s monsters.





I HAVEN’T SEEN Declan since he walked away from me, leaving me alone in the cold earlier today. But I haven’t been looking for him either. I’ve spent most of the day roaming around the house, taking in the history, the artwork, and exploring the books in the library.

And now, as I lie on the chaise here in the atrium at the back of the house, I gaze up at the black velvet sky peppered with stars through the glass structure. With civilization sparse and the lack of clouds, you can see every star in the sky. Thousands of them, glittering in the obsidian of night, each holding wishes from foolish people and hopeful children. And I can’t help myself when I throw my own up to a few of them tonight.

The house is dark, the only noise coming from the wind as it whistles through the bare trees. And with Declan’s constant push and pull, he reminds me of the wind. It blows, wrapping itself around me, but as soon as I feel it, it’s gone. It’s uncatchable, unstoppable, uncontrollable, and as much as I want Declan, all I’m really doing is chasing the wind.

I turn my head to the shadow of Declan who stands in the open doorway. He wears only his long pajama bottoms that hang low on his hips. A warmth surges through me as I admire the deep cuts of his abs and the defined muscles that rope his broad shoulders and arms. He’s so beautiful that it pains me to look at him, but I can’t stop myself.