Page 74 of Her Soul to Take


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“So brave,” he said, and pouted his lip out mockingly. “And so fucking foolish. Pathetic little mortal. Defying a demon feels good, doesn’t it?” He squeezed my cheeks between one hand, and pushed the fingers of his opposite hand to my lips, forcing my jaws open. “Let me see that pretty little mouth. So perfect for my cock.” His fingers pressed against my tongue. I almost gagged, and tears leaked from my eyes with the effort not to. I could feel my pussy dripping, clenching with desire.

He looked at me like I was nothing more than a toy, but when he lowered his voice and spoke again, there was reverence in his words. “Your mouth is perfect. Your body is perfect. Your mind, that damned curious mind, is perfect.” His hold on me wasn’t gentle, but the kiss he laid on my forehead was. “You’re mine, even if you don’t believe it. And I treasure what’s mine. Now, open your fucking mouth.”

This time, I obeyed.

He pressed his cock past my lips. The taste of his flesh on my tongue was intoxicating, and my eyes fluttered shut as he thrust into me. He fucked my mouth mercilessly, punishing me—rewarding me. Only when a gag finally jolted through me did he slow his pace, holding my head in place as he used my mouth for his pleasure.

“Fuck, you take my cock so well.” The roughness in his voice made me moan. I could hear the pleasure in his words, barely controlled, and I moved my tongue along his shaft, eager to feel him throb. “Ah...fuck, baby girl…”

The pet name stirred something in me, something light, fluttery, and warm in my belly. He’d never called me that before. His pet names had always carried a teasing tone, but this one—this one was tight with his pleasure, this one dropped from his lips as if he hadn’t even thought about it, as if it had come out in a moment of vulnerability.

It made the intense arousal flooding me blaze even hotter. I gripped his hips as I began to move my head in rhythm with his thrusts. I dug my fingers into him, then reached around and clawed at his back. I wanted to leave my marks on him. I wanted to draw blood. I didn’t know if I could possibly even make this monster feel pain, but I wanted to try.

His thrusts became harder, and he laid his palm against my stinging cheek, encouraging me to look up at him. “You’re going to swallow every drop, aren’t you?” he growled, and I managed to nod my head around his girth. I longed for the taste of him, I wanted it so badly that I groaned. He held my head in place, thrusting deep as his cock throbbed against my tongue, then flooded my mouth with his cum.

I gulped down every drop of him. I clung to him, holding him deep in my throat so I wouldn’t miss a drop. Every time my mouth tightened as I swallowed around him, his hips twitched forward, shudders going up his back.

He pulled away from my mouth, gripped my chin, and with my lips still wet with him, he kissed me with a hunger that wanted to crawl inside of me, that wanted to swallow me whole. I bit at his lip and he bit back, then his tongue was in my mouth and I found myself limp in his grip, all the tastes of him an intoxicating cocktail in my mouth.

“You’re fucking filthy,” he whispered, parting from me just enough to speak. I smiled—tear-stained face, cum down my chin, mascara running.

“Make me filthier.”

He spit on my lips, and as he watched me lick it off, I thought he might truly lose control. The viciousness in his eyes, the hunger there, was nothing short of terrifying. Terrifying, and yet I’d never wanted someone so badly. Every nerve in my body was on fire, sensitive to the touch. I held back a shriek as he lifted me from the floor and threw me back on the bed, where I landed on the sleek sheets and soft pillows. I scrambled, another useless attempt to struggle, but he pinned me down on my back and yanked down my skirt.

“You’re still hard?” I gasped, as if I couldn’t see what was obvious. It was as if he hadn’t even orgasmed: his cock was still rigidly hard, a pearly bead of precum sliding from the tip as he pushed my legs apart.

“Remember what I am, baby girl,” he growled. “I’m hard as long as I want to be.” He leaned closer, a whisper against my skin. “And I promised to ruin you.”

I was dripping wet, but the stretch of him entering me still made me cry out. He covered my mouth with his hand, stifling my noise as he filled me deeply. “Remember,” he hissed harshly, biting at my neck as he spoke. “Three taps if you want out.” The reminder of the signal grounded me for a moment, reminding me of reality, before I floated right back into that delicious, dark fantasy.

Watching him over me, his face masked, his eyes bright, bloodied marks from my teeth on his lips, brought me to the edge of orgasm almost immediately. The stretch of his cock inside me, and his fingers rubbing my clit shoved me off the precipice and sent me tumbling into ecstasy.

I clenched around him, screaming against his hand as he fucked me into oblivion. He slowed his pace, drawing out every second of pleasure. But then, even as the waves receded and I managed to catch my breath, my head light, he whispered, “You’re not done yet. I want to see you come again. Scream for me again.”

He lifted my legs, holding them up so he could reach an even deeper angle. My shuddering pussy clenched again, every touch on my overly-sensitive, swollen clit making me twitch. I was crying, “Please, please, please,” against his hand, my mind spiraling into thoughtless bliss. He bit against my neck, his lips curving into a smile on my skin as I arched up against him, hardly able to draw breath as my tension wound tighter and tighter.

I sounded like an animal as I cried out against his hand, shaking under him, the flood of endorphins making me sob. I barely realized I was crying until his hands were wiping away my tears, kissing my face, murmuring, “Easy, baby girl. You did so good, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

I turned my head, to press my face against his chest as he lay down beside me. I felt silly for crying: I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t scared, I wasn’t hurt. But it had been so good, so wildly consuming, that crying against his chest for another minute felt like catharsis.

“Sorry.” I giggled as I sniffled, just an absolute mess all around. “Sorry about the crying—”

He pressed a finger to my lips, shushing me. “Don’t you dare apologize. Come down however you need to. I’m here with you.”

We lay there in silence, listening to the distant thump of the music. As I calmed, I realized that the knot of anxiety that had been tormenting me for days was gone. He’d unraveled it, with his fingers, his tongue, his wicked words. Nothing that lurked outside was as dangerous as him.

And I was his. He treasured what was his.

“Enough of a distraction for you?” He smirked at me, and I pulled up the mask he wore because I wanted to see his face. It hadn’t been all that long since I’d last seen him, but it still took my breath away. His beauty was dangerous, it was alluring. Like those brightly-colored poisonous frogs, with looks that begged to be touched but would kill you with one brush of your fingertips. But I touched him anyway, caressing my fingers over his face.

“It was a good distraction,” I said.

“Hopefully I’ve fucked those anxious thoughts out of your head. Don’t waste that sweet fear on vile beasts, not when I’m here.”

But how long will you be here?

We couldn’t lay there forever. He told me not to be afraid, but I knew he was still on alert: he was still listening for footsteps, his eyes still darted toward the window, the door. He was anxious, so I didn’t have to be. But for another minute, it felt good just to lay there, just to breathe, just to feel his fingers play in my hair.

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