I nod. Silent and breathless, wide-eyed and fucking desperate.
His smirk deepens, his control snapping thread by thread.
Steaming hot water cascades down my body, soaking my skin, washing away the sweat, the scent of the dungeon, but not the scent of him.
His hands are everywhere. Cleaning. Worshipping. Fast, desperate, as if his patience had already been reduced to embers but now it’s nothing but ash.
My back is to him when I feel it. Two fingers, sliding inside me from behind, curling up. A jolt of pleasure passes through me so fast that my legs nearly give out.
A squeak escapes before I can stop it.
I feel him lean in, his chest brushing my back, his hand pressing against the wall beside my head, trapping me. His breath hits my ear, hot and dripping with sin.
"I'm going to ruin this pussy," he murmurs, voice gravel and smoke. "Make you feel me for weeks."
My entire body vibrates in anticipation. I know what he can do with that filthy mouth of his. I remember, and I know he speaks the truth. Because he ruined me once before and it lasted for years, not just weeks.
In one fluid motion, he spins me around.
I don't have time to think or breathe before his hands grip my thighs, hoist me up — higher, higher — until my legs are around his shoulders, my back pressed to the wall.
I'm so fucking high up I could touch the ceiling if I stretched my arms. But I don't, I clutch his hair instead, desperate and needing.
He lets out a satisfied, low growl, his hot breath fanning over my pussy, making me shiver.
I’m taken by surprise when he presses a featherlight kiss to the inside of my thigh. Soft, like a whisper. Like a fucking reminder. He always used to do that. I forgot. How could I forget?
I don’t have time to overthink it.
The first swipe of his tongue is slow, deliberate. A tease. From my entrance to my clit, long and lazy, like he's savoring me.
But it doesn't last. The first taste is for control, the rest is pure fucking destruction.
He devours me. Sucking, tasting, biting. Like I'm his first fucking meal in years. He works me over with a perfect mixof cruelty and indulgence while I moan and scream, losing my fucking mind.
I feel two thick fingers pushing inside, curling and stroking, playing me like an instrument he mastered a long time ago. He drags me to the edge and back, again and again, toying with me, until my body doesn't belong to me anymore. Until it's his. Until he's ripping me apart, making me beg without words, making me feel so many fucking things all at once.
I try to move, to fuck his face, to find my release. He doesn’t let me. With a growl, he sucks my clit hard and nips it, making me freeze. His grip on my thighs tightens and he begins his torment again, just the way he likes it.
And when he’s finally satisfied with the mess he turned me into, I feel the tip of his tongue, focused and deadly. Flicking my clit over and over again, until I shatter. Explode into a million fucking pieces.
My body locks, my legs shake, and I scream, voice breaking, fucking destroyed. But he doesn't stop. Not until I am nothing.
When he finally lets me down, my legs give out beneath me. Weak. Completely useless.
I collapse to my knees, my body wrecked, my mind fogged from the orgasm that just ripped through me. Right in front of his hard cock. A masterpiece of sin.
I tilt my head back, meeting his gaze, searching for permission. Or maybe I just want to see if he'll deny me.
He stands above me, watching like a king from his throne, one eyebrow raised in question, head tilted in challenge.
The choice is mine.
I know it.
He knows it.
And I make it.
