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She sharply inhaled through her nose, pausing with her lips halfway down his shaft.
Cain tightened his grip on her hair. “I didn’t say stop. You started this, pretty witch, you’ll finish it.”
Her gaze jumped to his and narrowed slightly. The defiant glint there pushed his dominant buttons in a major way.
He winged up a brow. “Oh, you thought you were calling the shots, did you? Wrong. I let you set the pace. And I did it purely because it pleased me. Never forget who’s in control in this bedroom.”
Her eyes narrowed even further, but they also flared with an arousal she didn’t try to hide. He loved that about her. She owned her sexuality, didn’t judge herself for what got her off, and never hid how much she enjoyed what he did to her.
Cain tugged on her hair again. “Now suck. That’s it.” He plastered the back of her hand against his thigh. “Keep that there.” He danced three of his fingers over the mark, touching different parts of it—and, essentially, her pussy—all at once.
Her rhythm faltered, but she quickly recovered and began sucking him hard and fast.
Humming his approval, he stroked the pads of his three fingers over her mark. He did it again and again and again. She moaned and whimpered around his cock, upping her pace and tightening her lips around him.
Feeling the telling tingle in the base of his spine, Cain pushed hard on the center of her palm, giving her the sensation of two fingers thrusting inside her. She came with a choked moan that vibrated up his shaft and, that easily, he was gone. He held her head in place as he thrust into her mouth once, twice, and then exploded, pouring his come down her throat.
He gentled his hold on her hair. “You’re a little too good at that, baby.”
A teensy bit flushed from her orgasm—it didn’t seem fair that the bastard could make her come just from touching her palm, but hell if she didn’t enjoy it—Wynter held his softening cock in her mouth. He didn’t always withdraw his dick straight away. He often just stayed right there and traced her mouth with his thumb the way he was doing right then, looking down at her like she was . . . important. Treasured, even.
Finally, he withdrew his cock and tapped her lower lip with his finger. “You definitely deserve a reward for making me come that hard.”
She was in total agreement with that. Especially if it involved her coming just as hard.
He went down to his knees, tipped her body backwards, and closed his mouth over her pussy.
She sucked in a breath. Oh fuck, yes. His tongue was a master at this. Seriously. It knew just where to lick, just how to work her clit, just what spots to flick when he stabbed it deep inside her.
Wynter bit her lip as her nipples tightened painfully. It felt like crazy little sparks danced along her flesh. Feel-good chemicals were rampant in her system, and her heart beat hard and fast in her chest.
She gasped as pleasure flickered along her soul like electric fingertips, making her fist the bedsheet so tight she was surprised it didn’t tear. Another featherlight wave of bliss ghosted over her very being. And another. And another. Meanwhile, his tongue lapped and swiped.
She lost herself. Lost time. Lost the battle to not curse his Ancient ass for teasing her. Both the strokes to her soul and the licks to her pussy were so soft and gentle that they were too frustrating to trigger her orgasm. He was perfectly aware of that.
She was about to give his hair a punishing tug, but then his tongue began to fuck her pussy, his fingers pinched her nipples, more soul-deep pleasure assaulted her . . . and she quite simply fragmented.
Panting and trembling, she watched as he stood and licked at his wet lips. Her stomach clenched. Seeing that his cock was now hard once more made her want to light a candle in thanks.
“Who would have thought a toy could taste so good?” Cain slid his hands underneath her thighs, gripped them tight, and then lifted her hips off the bed with an easy strength that made her toes curl. “Such a pretty toy you are, too.” Angling her hips just right, he lodged the thick head in her pussy. “And I’m the only one who gets to play with you.” He yanked her body toward him just as he slammed his hips forward, stretching her until it burned.
Jesus Christ. Wynter welcomed the burn. Welcomed the feel of his cock furiously pounding into her, rasping over her super-sensitized inner walls. The friction was as insanely exquisite as it was addictive.
Hell, everything about the way he fucked her was addictive. And the bastard knew it. He knew she craved him, craved this. It was what he’d wanted all along.
Wynter cried out, her back bowing violently off the bed as a hissing, crackling, stinging surge of pleasure/pain swept over her soul.
“My sweet witch likes it when it hurts.” Still slamming into her hard and fast, he struck her very being with yet another darkly carnal wave that bit like teeth and stung like the slap of a hand. “Yes, take it.”
At this point, her nerve-endings were fried, her body was drunk on endorphins, and it felt as if her entire being pulsed and coiled tight with the friction building inside her.
She was shaking. Moaning. Overwhelmed with sensation. And so very close to begging for more of the darkly addictive pleasure/pain. “Cain . . .”
“You want to break for me, don’t you?”
She did. Absolutely. She didn’t want to merely come, she wanted him to wreck her. “Yes,” she rasped.
“Good.” There was a strange ripple in those black orbs . . . like something moved behind them. Something alive. “Because you will.”
