Is my pretty demon worried I’ll break her?
“Summer—” Her name uttered as a warning is the single heads up I give her before the toy starts filling her tight cunt alongside my dick. Her moan turns strained, but she doesn’t tap out. She won’t. Though I might, by coming again, because the feeling is phenomenal.
“Turn it on,” I whisper in her ear, one hand holding the device, the other on her ass, finger circling where I’ll go next.
Her gaze slingshots to mine and stays locked for a single moment before she ups the intensity level of the vibrations.
“Fuuuck!” I growl.
“Atlas—”
“I know, love.”
The pleasure she feels is the perfect distraction to allow me to push my thumb past her tight ring. Her pussy flutters once more, while I’m hanging on by a thread, trying not to come as I keep the rhythm, fucking her slow and steady in both holes.
Just when she’s about to fall into that abyss of ecstasy again, I pull out, leaving the device inside her while my cock presses against her ass, eager to replace my finger. My hand that was holding the toy wraps around her, sliding up to her throat and keeping her back plastered to my front as I push in—slow, relentless—until the tip finally slips past her tightness. Her hand shoots for my thigh, but she doesn’t tap out.
“You okay, honey?” My voice grates like sandpaper fucking.
“Mhm,” she mewls.
I push further until I’m inside all the way to the hilt.
And I go still.
“Push it up,” I command, and her lips quirk into a lascivious smile when she puts the power level to max and drops the phone.
And I start moving, fucking all that’s mine, watching her unravel in my arms while everything else fades out, leaving only the certainty that I can do this without stopping for the rest of our days.
It doesn’t take her long to scream out her orgasm, and I followclose after, before we collapse on the bed, gasping for air.
Goodbye,illusions of me dying of old age.
Helloreality in which my body gives out before I ever stop taking this goddess.
I’ll love her to my fuckin’ death.
Chapter 35
Summer
Igrip the couch with shaky hands, clawing at it, fighting for survival, or rather, the right to keep my ability to walk, as I try to pull myself up.
A loud thud comes from behind me. Peering over my shoulder, I spot Atlas grinning atop the remains of the wooden coffee table, which I have no idea how it didn’t give out earlier, during his overzealous attempt to fulfill my terms of fucking me on every square inch of this house. A giggle escapes me, but it fades quickly when he shifts, clearly intent on getting to me.Again.
“Where do you think you’re going, my little Succubus?” he rasps, a hand gliding down my naked back. It’s been three days since my body last saw any clothes.
Am I sore?
Everywhere.
Do I want more?
My masochistic cunt practically jumps at the thought, volunteering herself as a tribute.
“To find my phone,” I say between breaths, pulling myself up, exhaustion turning the task into climbing Everest.
“Wanna call 911?” Atlas chuckles from behind me as his arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back down onto the soft white carpet. “I’d love a record of that call,” he continues. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” he botches my voice, turning me to face him like I’m some rag doll he can toss around. “My boyfriend’s trying to kill me... with too much sex.”
