As soon as he tries to lick me again, I do the inevitable and catch his tongue between my lips, sucking it hard, since I can’t seem to stop myself, which instantly pulls a beastly growl from him.
Oh fuck.
As soon as I let go, our mouths merge and our tongues collide. The connection that storms through me sets my entire body onfire, and I start to stroke myself harder. He devours my mouth hungrily, his fingers digging into my jaw, anchoring me and with each flick of his piercing over my tongue, he delves deeper, attempting to taste every corner.
The flavour of him is intoxicating, a mix of tobacco and aggression, but when his hand glides down my chest, tracing the contours, I instinctively reach up, grasping his wrist, not allowing him to take any more than what he asked for.
“I swear to fucking god, Dolly if you don’t start being a good little slut...” He snarls furiously against my lips, flicking my hand away.
Following his angry warning, his hand lands on my breast, giving it a tight, bruising squeeze, the sensation delivering a delicious pain, causing my brows to crease. He growls against my lips as his thumb flicks over my ridged, pierced nipple, then lowers his hand until he is grabbing mine. He takes it away from my bud, lifting my fingers to his mouth and he sucks the tips that were just on my clit, holding eye contact as he makes them wet for me. I watch through heavy eyes as he does it, the act driving me crazy.
Fuck. This man.
He returns my hand between my legs with his over it and presses his fingers down on mine, adding further pressure to my aching bud and he guides my movements.
As I feel his wetness on my clit, I start to become desperate for my release and for him. I fill my mind with dirty thoughts of him taking me as I keep my eyes closed and just when I think I couldn't want him any more than I do, I feel the cold steel of his blade dragging down my inner thigh, teasing and threatening me. How I was feeling tonight and what he said to me this morning returns to my mind, sending arousal throughme at the possibility of him cutting me while he fucks me, and the fantasies start to consume my senses.
“Fuck, cut me, Hell.” I demand, my murmur breathless.
Without hesitation, he slowly slices my skin, a sting followed by a warm trickle of my blood running down my thigh. The pain barely registers amidst the rush of adrenaline and desire it brings, eliciting a dragging moan from my lips.
“Again.” I gasp out with my eyes rolling.
He moves on to make another cut beside it, this time firmer, and sharper, causing me to groan from the sensation. The friction against my clit starts to send shockwaves of pleasure through my veins and my body trembles, knowing that what he is doing is working in the most fucked-up way possible.
I surrender to my unhinged mindset, riding the waves of euphoria that is swelling inside of me as he continues to mark me. After dropping the knife onto the table, his hand moves over my hurting wounds with a possessive power, smearing the blood over my skin. When he grasps my breast again, painting my flesh with gore, he squeezes it viciously and my moans escalate into desperate cries against his lips.
The rougher he gets with me, the further I teeter on the edge of destruction. With a feral hunger, he sinks his teeth into my bottom lip so harshly that it pulls a scream from me, a raw sound of bliss. Once he releases, he licks away the blood he drew before plunging his tongue back into my mouth.
While he consumes me, his fingers and thumb press harshly over the slices he inflicted, the boundary between pain and satisfaction blurring into oblivion. I find myself riding both our hands, rocking my hips in the same rhythm as my pounding heart until I am utterly consumed by the most powerful climax of my entire life.
As a scream rips from my throat, my pussy and body convulsing with the force of my orgasm, I throw my head back, crashing against his chest as my spine bends inward as if an entity is trying to escape me. His hand strengthens around my throat, grounding me against him while with the other, he forces me to continue rubbing my throbbing clit, pushing me into overdrive.
“That’s my good Little Dolly. I knew you had it in you,” he growls, satisfaction evident in his tone.
Once I have ridden out my high, we slow down, my breathing steadying, and my sweaty, blood-dampened body gradually unwinds from the powerful release. I feel him reaching down behind me until he's gently pinching my panties that are still stuffed inside me, and slowly, he drags them out.
When he has them, he releases my throat before taking a step back and sliding them over my Converse. As the wet fabric meets my bare legs, I lift myself so he can continue putting them on me. He wedges them far up my ass crack before releasing them with a sharp snap against my hips.
Without warning, he seizes a handful of my hair, yanking it back, causing me to hiss and when I finally open my heavy eyes, I find myself locked in a silent stare with Hell, our gazes speaking volumes where words fail.
Slowly, he brings his mouth close to mine, his breath warm against my parted lips, “Now go back to him, wearing the sinful fucking mess you just made for me. Let every step remind you of how I degraded you tonight, and how you relished every filthy second of it.”
My gut twists with guilt, but I don’t show it as he searches my eyes before his sweep down the front of my body once more.
“You’re fucking perfect, Noir. Every single part of you. Don’t ever think otherwise,” he says, his words genuine and raw.
A strange sensation overrides the guilt I just felt, but I continue to remain expressionless even if the insane connection between us has never been clearer. His sharp jaw visibly tenses, his demeanor showing his temptation to take more than what we agreed to before he suddenly releases me, his warmth dissipating from my body.
My eyes close, then I glance down at myself, noticing my thighs decorated with his slices. Turning my head to look for Hell, I find him gone, disappearing like a ghost in the night, leaving me alone in the aftermath of our depraved moment.
With furrowed brows, I call out for him, “Hell?” My voice echoes through the empty building, but there is no response.
I can still feel his burning touch lingering on my skin as I sit in the same position for a moment, wondering why he left so quickly until my thoughts turn to how he is the first man to ever accomplish that. I liked the way he guided the situation, but also allowed me to have full control of my pleasure.
Is Hell truly the monster he portrays? He breathes evil yet radiates a beautiful darkness that connects to my soul. Why do I have a feeling this is the beginning of the end and what’s between us won’t stop? I can already feel myself crumbling every time he wants to take from me. I need to avoid him at all costs or leave entirely. I can't get attached just because he's the only man who's ever made me feel things I never knew I could.
I also have to figure out what to do about E and make sense of what happened tonight. Maybe not taking my medication caused a psychotic hallucination when I saw Arabella, a gut-wrenching reminder of how much I miss her and that I’m here, in somekind of fucked up killing carnival and not searching for her anymore. Perhaps it’s a sign that I shouldn’t be here at all.
