Page 44 of Witch’s Ruin

Even strained, her hips bucked upward, pressing harder against his mouth. He repeated the motion, spearing her. A long, desperate moan built in her throat. She clawed at him, at his shoulders, his neck, his hair, like a wild, feral thing. He felt his skin tear open, vaguely aware that her nails were no longer nails, but sharp claws. Demonic.

That…that was new.

And when he felt a trickle of blood drip down his skin, it only spurred him onward. She wanted to hurt him? He’d take everything and more.

But, he would not relent.

Each stroke had her tightening, until that final moment, when he finished her with one, broad sweep, bringing forth a garbled cry. Her hips jerked against him. His center clenched up—desperate—every abdominal muscle straining tight.

He released his hold of her legs, surging upward, over her. Then he slid inside, sheathing himself. He took her into his arms, wrapping himself around her, claiming her. Bare skin to bare skin, every inch of them touching in a lover’s embrace. She dug her heels into his back, the pressure against him adding to the ache. Slowly, he slid out to the head, then pressed back into her, pressed deep.

“Rixon,” she breathed. “That…yes! Harder, please.”

“No.”

Ignoring her demand, he began his languid onslaught, each stroke a deliberate caress within her. She groaned, frustration paired with pleasure lacing her voice. He kept his gaze on hers, eyes darting over her expression, taking in the alluring, black orbs that peered back at him.

“I could make you go faster,” she challenged. The voice that spoke was hardly hers. “I can make you do whatever I wish.”

He caught a glimpse of her teeth. They’d turned to sharp points. Chills skittered down his back. “You could,” he challenged, slowing down even further, taunting her. She cried out when he finished a stroke by grinding his pelvis against hers. “But you won’t,” he added. “Because you owe me this, for what you’ve asked of me. And because you’re a naughty little demon who likes to be punished. Who deserves to be punished. Aren’t you?”

“I…”

“Say it. Tell me how much you deserve to be punished, Mina. Tell me.”

“I’m naughty,” she managed as he slid out, then pushed back in. Her walls fluttered around him. He froze, mid thrust. “Nooo,” she cried out, knowing what he was doing, remembering all too well. Her cunt immediately relaxed around him.

“You deserve to be punished,” he prompted, waiting.

“I…I deserve…to be punished.” Her dark eyes darted over his. Those words were punctuated by a mew as he surged back into her.

Her tongue flicked out, the motion serpent-esk, giving him another flash of those pointed teeth. She licked along the column of his neck. The wet warmth had his balls tightening painfully. Then a sharp set of needles sent fire up and down his shoulder.

Her teeth sank in deep. Possessive. Claiming.

“Fuck!” He faltered before rolling his hips forward again. She’d bitten him! Her teeth came free, blood following. “You naughty little demon,” he hissed, twisting his fingers into her hair, tightening his grip into a fist until she cried out. “This what you want, needy little thing? Pain? More?”

“Yes,” she gasped. So he clenched harder, until he pulled the strands tight. Her breaths staggered, her cries becoming pleasure-soaked.

His skin flushed, liquid heat dumping over him.

He tried to slow his motions, tried to hold himself back. He couldn’t. Pressing back in, his body took over, betraying him. His movements turned frenzied.

Mina licked up the column of his neck and shoulder, cleaning away his blood. “You dirty little thing,” he hissed, knowing exactly what she was doing. “You fucking insatiable female.”

She was stealing his fucking control. Her teeth nipped at his neck, the points of her teeth a warning—

The world exploded around him, bursts of color and stars. His body shook, spasming. Mina cried out, her orgasm following, sweeping through her as he emptied himself deep within her. He groaned, riding out each wave, grinding against her clit. Then he slowed, trying to catch his breath.

Fucking fuck.

He tipped his head, finding her face, memorizing the euphoric expression. The demon staring back at him was a happy one. Sated, pleased.

And that? That pleased him.

A slow, evil grin stretched across her lips. Her teeth were still pointed. It was sinister. “What was that again, Lord Wielder?” she managed. “What was that about your terms?”

He growled, capturing her lips, invading her mouth with his tongue, caring little that the sharp points shredded him.