Page 98 of Twisting Beauty

30

LIATH

Oh God. He wanted me to⁠—

Shame scalded through me, heat rising up my throat until I thought I’d choke on it. Every nerve screamed to recoil, to bolt. And yet a dark thrill betrayed me, a mutinous ache that started building in my lower belly.

I thought of Dervla. I thought of Maeve. I thought of every girl still trapped in Magdalene. I swallowed my protests and I sank down before him, the floorboard biting at my knees.

Just get it over with.

I swallowed hard, my trembling fingers finding the waistband of his sweatpants. The soft fabric bunched in my grip as I tugged downward in one sharp motion, exposing him completely.

My breath caught in my throat as his cock sprung free, heavy and thick, jutting proudly from a short crop of dark curls, perfect in a way that made my insides clench with unwanted need. A bead of moisture gathered at the tip, catching the dim light.

Despite myself, I felt saliva pooling beneath my tongue, my lips parting involuntarily.

“No teeth,” he warned with a sharp tug of my hair, my scalp stinging, “or I’ll fuck that ass instead and I won’t be gentle.”

I hated him. Hated that I was here, on my knees. Hated even more the traitorous heat that pooled low in my belly.

I parted my lips, letting him guide himself into my mouth. The size of him was foreign, heavy on my tongue, stretching my lips and throat. The taste of him—musky, male, and forbidden—coated my tongue, making my head swim.

He pushed in deeper, blocking my airway, making me gag. I tried to pull back, but his grip on the back of my head tightened, holding me in place as he pushed deeper.

“Relax your throat,” he said as if he was annoyed he had to train me.

Tears pricked my eyes as I struggled to accommodate him, my jaw already aching, the violins in my head crescendoing into something frantic, discordant.

“Passable,” he muttered, sounding almost bored as he rocked his hips forward in time with my movements.

As I moved up and down on his length, I tried to occupy my mind: the drug report in Alistair’s hidden study, the names on those papers, the vial and what the drug did. I went over it all piece by piece, trying to ignore what I was doing to pay off a debt.

Trying to ignore the stupid building ache inside me as a response to the feel of his thick cock gliding in and out of my mouth, to the intoxicating taste of his skin on my tongue.

This was a task. A debt. It had a start, an end, and a price. That is all.

I might have believed it.

Until he let out a low growl, broken and involuntary. Nothing like the flat, bored tone he’d used before.

My focus slipped as I slammed right back into my body.

I glanced up at him.

His breathing was ragged, his mouth slack. His gaze was glazed and unfocused, the smugness gone now, something in him starting to come apart at the edges. For all his dominance, his control was slipping.

And I was doing it to him.

I liked it. I hated that I liked it. I hated the small, ugly bloom of satisfaction that opened up under my resentment.

I hollowed my cheeks and sucked harder, swirling my tongue around his tip, drawing a strangled groan from him.

“Fuck,” he gasped, hips jerking forward.

I had no choice but to take him as he thrust relentlessly into my mouth, my jaw aching, tears streaming down my cheeks. The violins in my head reached a frenzied pitch as his body tensed, a guttural sound tearing from his throat.

Stalky thick heat flooded my mouth. I choked, instinctively trying to pull away, but his grip was iron as he pulsed against my tongue.