Exodus (The Ravenhood #2)(35)

He breaks from me, his fingers smoothly going in and out as he watches my reaction to his touch. Eyes ablaze, he withdraws and stands to rid himself of his clothes. Breasts exposed, legs open, I lift to my elbows to watch.

I’m barely able to manage another clear thought when his cock springs free from his boxers, bobbing heavily in front of me. I do my best to control the display of my hunger as he draws me to the end of the bed and wraps my hair around his fist, before bending to kiss me. Fire ignites in my core as he thrusts his tongue in, over and over until I’m moaning and reaching for his cock. I pump him in my hand when he pulls back, his eyes hood as I lick my lips, lust drunk from his kiss.

“Suck,” he orders, and I gape at him—the audacity of this man. His eyes are unyielding as I barter with my devil, eyeing the head, my mouth watering. Stalling, I glare up at him and squeeze him from thick base to engorged tip. He’s dripping, and I find satisfaction in that.

It’s my move.

I continue to pump him with my hand as he traces my hot-pink stained lips with his finger before pushing one into my mouth and then adding another. On impulse, I suck as he curses before replacing his fingers with the thick head of his cock, and sliding it in.

“Putain.” Fuck.

I choke on the fullness of him as my jaw burns while I furiously try to fit him in my mouth. His amber eyes are ensnared as he watches, bewitched. I struggle with his size, hollowing my cheeks, opening my throat. He’s too big, and I’m barely able to cover half of him as he begins to pump his hips. Clawing his thighs, I try my best to get him in, his jaw flexes at my effort, his eyes hooding while his lips turn up in smug amusement. The man is ridiculously hung and no doubt aware of it.

Relaxing my jaw, I lift to my knees and dive, finally able to get him in as a trail of saliva drips between us. The sight of it sets him off as I choke on his length, his girth, and his hands start to roam. My teeth rake his silky head as he orders me on all fours before turning me so that he’s stretching me with his thick fingers while he feeds me his cock. My jaw burns with every thrust of his hips, but I’m rewarded by his mingled breaths and filthy words.

I pull away, allowing myself some breath and fondle his balls, pumping him in long strokes. He runs his fingers along my jaw, and then across my lips. He’s in no hurry, he plans on taking his time.

My core tightens around his fingers, my orgasm building while I stroke him, pleasure him, a man I despise beyond words, all reasoning.

But I love the feel of him in my mouth, the sight of him bare and under my power. I stroke him, suck him, playing with the fire that has done nothing but burn me since the moment I knew of his existence. His girth bulges in my mouth just before he pushes me off my knees and jerks me to the edge of the bed, spreading my legs before lining our bodies up, his intent clear.

“N-no,” I back away from him, sputtering and jerking my head, denying him. He stills me and grips my throat, the pads of his fingers digging in. He moves to hover above me, tracing my lips with his tongue before feeding alcohol-laced words into my mouth.

“You have an IUD, and I’m not fucking anyone else, Cecelia. I’m no threat to you.” Retrieving his pants, he pulls a condom from his wallet and tosses it on my stomach before jerking me back to position and spreading my thighs wide. “I’m taking my punishment.” Our eyes meet with his confession. “As long as this is happening, it’s only you.”

And I can’t help myself. I watch as he slides his thick tip through my folds, pressing it to my clit, teasing and torturing us both. Condom still resting on my stomach, I make no attempt to retrieve it as he runs his head up and down my slick center, the head of his cock glistening.

My move.

He allows only a moment more for any last objections before I answer with the faint lift of my hips.

A soft gasp leaves me as he fills me, our gazes locked on the stretch as he claims me in the most intimate way. Once seated, his eyes narrow to slits as both our jaws go slack.

I hate that I love the way his eyes burn bright as he watches my reaction to him. I hate that somewhere deep inside, a voice is dying to break free, the one that never wants this to end, and that the voice belongs to me, to my darkness, to the sick woman inside me that can’t get enough of this evil bastard.

He drives in again, his palm gliding up my body before he tightens it around my throat.

“Call out to me,” he orders, his voice laced with restraint. “We might as well enjoy hell together.”

The feel of this is overwhelming; too carnal, too personal, it’s just entirely too much, and it’s driving me to the brink. His thrusts deepen, and I begin a quick climb, the pressure of his fingers around my neck fluctuating with every roll of his hips.

I rip at his hand as he denies me air, the intensity building with every squeeze and release. My need growing the heavier his hand becomes.

“Call out to me,” he grits out as he slams into me and I hold onto his hand, unable to steady myself. I’m teetering on the edge of darkness when he pulls out and taps the top of my pussy with his thick head.

My body writhes beneath him, my center aching from his absence. He wants to absolutely break me, brainwash me, brand my body, train it to crave him—and only him.

Why can’t he just be satisfied with what he’s taken already?

He presses in again, his chest rippling with restraint, his thick voice full of command.