God of Malice (Legacy of Gods #1)(79)

But he lets me get up a little, loosening his hold on my neck, though he doesn’t release me. We change positions so that I’m cocooned in his arms as I’m sitting up more.

“It’s okay…” I whisper, trying to match his in and out.

“If you think doing that will make me finish faster and get me off your case…” he trails off, his rhythm faltering for a bit when I slide my palm from his chest to his neck and then to his cheek. “What the fuck are you doing now?”

“Connection, ever heard of it?”

“Don’t be stupid. If you fall for me, you’ll only get hurt.”

“The fact that you worry about me getting hurt is enough.”

“Not worry.” Thrust. “Think.”

“At least you’re thinking about me.” My voice breaks.

“Don’t romanticize me or you’ll be eaten alive.”

“Aren’t you eating me already?”

“This is not eating. This is an appetizer.”

I believe every word he says, and I know what’s coming is probably worse, but I still close the distance between us and brush my lips against his. They’re surprisingly soft, though thinned and a bit mean, like him.

“How about this then?” I whisper against his mouth.

“Still not eating.” He shoves me down on his lap and pounds into me from below. “Open your mouth.”

When I do, he angles my jaw up with his thumb. “Tongue out.”

I slowly stick it out, and he sucks it into his mouth, biting on it and kissing me open-mouthed, his lips clashing with mine at the same rhythm as his cock is plowing inside me.

There’s no way I’ll last long.

I don’t.

My whole body is caught in a trance, being completely and utterly ravaged by a monster.

Completely and utterly satiated.

I come with a cry that he swallows with his lips, allowing me only fragments of air.

But he goes on and on until I think he’ll never come.

He stops every few minutes to change positions. First, I’m on my side, then I’m lying facedown and he’s on top of me. Next, I’m on all fours, and he’s behind me. The entire time, he bites me—on my breasts, my shoulders, my hips, my thighs—anywhere his mouth can reach.

Finally, he puts me on his lap again and his back straightens. His hand on my throat tightens as his lips trap and suck mine, turning them all bruised.

“Fuck,” he grunts as his hips jerk. “Fucking fuck, I could stay in your cunt forever.”

Then I feel him twitching and releasing deep inside me. He pulls out, then gathers his cum with his fingers and thrusts them back in me. Over and over until I think I’m going to come again.

“We can’t have you wasting any drops.”

I’m half-dazed, not able to make out my surroundings, but I can feel him placing me on the mattress.

I can also feel his warmth gone before he’s back again and something tender is placed between my legs.

A whole-body shudder goes through me when he kisses my folds and whispers against them, “You saved this cunt for me because I’m the only one who gets to own it, baby.”





22





KILLIAN





Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The sound of my fingers drumming on the chair’s armrest flows with a steady rhythm.

But there’s no flicker of serenity in my bones. In fact, the raging storm from earlier has heightened to distances I haven’t experienced before.

The chaos from the house has died down with everyone leaving or scattering all over the property like rats.

And I’m here.

In the semi-darkness—my natural habitat—staring at the girl who’s fucking up my whole system.

Glyndon has been fast asleep since I stuffed her full of my cum. When I pulled out, her blood was all over my cock and the sheets, and that scene made me hard all over again. But since she’s a spoilsport, she passed out.

I didn’t change the sheets. I let her lie there, nude, her legs sprawled and with some dried blood between her thighs. It’s a scene I’ve been watching from my position on the chair opposite the bed while burning one cigarette after the other.

Glyndon is oblivious to the irritating change happening within me—that has little to do with the state of my semi-hard cock—since she continues slumbering. Her swollen lips are slightly parted, her cheeks are a light shade of red, and violet marks cover her tits, her hips, her neck, her stomach, her thighs.

Everywhere.

She’s a map of my creation. A potential masterpiece in the making, and yet, it’s not…enough.

Early on, I knew that I needed stimulation to drown out the constant need for more.

And more.

And fucking more.

Dad noticed my tendencies and put me in high-pressure sports and took me hunting. Those were his solutions to satisfy my inhumane need for euphoria.

However, they couldn’t last for long and the urge outshined them. So I started to fight and fuck every moving human. I took it to hardcore lengths that only exist in snuff movies.

But sex was only a temporary solution. A Band-Aid. A painkiller that lost its effect soon after the act ended. Sometimes, during.