Page 55 of Petrify

He terrifies me so fucking much. My body responds so eagerly to him, to the rush of adrenaline and the fear and theway he takes what he wants from me. He’s using me to learn pleasure, and it feels so fucking good.

Suddenly his tongue licks up my center and I nearly buckle. It takes everything in me to stay quiet, to quell the moan surfacing at my lips. Not that anyone could really hear from the hall—I was put in this wing forquiet, after all.

He grips my hips roughly, fingers digging into my flesh, and he gives an appreciative groan after the first lick. “It’s always better than I can anticipate.” He does not hold back, doesn’t work at me with hesitation. He spears me with his tongue, burying his face at my center and holding me open for him, lapping at my clit hungrily. Each swipe of his tongue has desire building in my core. The pressure becomes so overwhelming I want him to stop, unable to breathe.

But I know he won’t stop. I could scream and he’d keep going.

My thighs begin to shake, my skin still slick from the bath water, and he’s soaked through, too, but that doesn’t seem to bother him.

He took his mask off. I feel the brush of his nose against my ass, feel the stray curl against my skin.

It should terrify me that I don’t know him. That I haven’t seen his face. It should, and it does.

A part of me hates that I let him do this to me. I’m not strong enough to deny myself this pleasure. I don’twantto deny myself this. His attention feels so good, especially when he groans against me, unable to hide how much he’s enjoying himself. One of his hands leaves my thighs, and there’s the metallic click of his belt buckle, freeing himself, if I were to guess by the way he moans again while massaging my clit with his tongue.

“I want to make you feel so good,” he says. And there’s the sound of more movement—he’s tugging on his cock, jerking himself off while he tongue-fucks me.

Unable to catch my breath, overwhelmed by the feel of him, my hips grind against his face. I gasp into my hand.

“I want to make you come,” he breathes against me. “I could lock you away deep inside this house where no one will find you. Wouldn’t you like that? Just me making you feel good. Forever.”

I should be afraid of the words—ofhim.

His tongue wanders, finding theothertight ring of muscles. My breath hitches in my throat at the sensation. Jason had only ever touched me there once.

Bastien pauses, maybe sensing my tension. “Can I make you feel good here, too?” Voice a low, gratified rumble.

Without another thought, I’m nodding.

And then he’s licking my ass, his tongue moving curiously over me, prodding me. He grunts, and I imagine him below me, masturbating to his tongue inside of me, kneeling on the floor. My thighs clench as the strange feeling becomes pleasurable, everything relaxing. A second later he pulls away to push a finger inside of me, slowly, almosttooslowly. There’s a friction, a pain, and I tense again, lightheaded, gripping the counter so hard I think my nails will crack.

“Bas—”

I’m not sure what I’m meaning to say, just that I’m beginning to soar, I’m trembling, and he is the only thing holding me down to the ground.

There’s the sound of him spitting, lubricating himself to work another finger inside after a minute. He’s slow, methodical almost, moving at a patient pace, freezing at every sharp intake of breath, every whine that spills from my lips, only continuing on when my hips press back against him.

If he touches my clit, I’m going to come, I’m strung too tight.

“Does that feel good?” He mumbles the words against my thigh.

I nod, lips parted, every bit of sense left in my body sent straight to where he fingers me. The other two tease the entrance of my pussy, and I’m so wet, he slides in with ease.

I’m seconds away from shattering.

“Words.”

“Yes, Bastien, it feels—” My breath hitches again.

He pulls away, leaving me empty for just a moment, a moment too long. And then the soft head of his cock is pressed against my ass. “Can I take you here?” he murmurs into my ear.

No, my mind screams, even when my hips arch back towards him, even when I’ve gone this far with him, as it is.

“Please,” he whispers. “You feel so fucking good on my cock. Please let me. I want—I want to make you come. I’ll make it feel good for you, I promise. It’ll feel so fucking good.”

“Yes.”

He spits into his hand again. And then his cock presses against me, and it’s so overwhelming, the stretch. I’m burning, a flame sparking in my stomach, between my legs. He’s too fucking big. I can’t?—