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When I feel him swell in my mouth, he growls out, “You’re going to swallow every drop like the good girl I know you can be.” It’s another order, and even if I wanted to disobey, I couldn’t, as he thrusts halfway down the back of my throat and holds himself there while he ejaculates.
Once he’s finished, he pulls me off his softening cock. Holding it in his free hand, he says, “Now, clean up the mess you made.”
I peer up at him through wet lashes, momentarily confused, until it clicks that he wants me to lick the last remnants of his cum from his cock. He releases the grip on my hair, stroking the back of my head in a gentle, comforting way as I lick up the last of his cum, letting his satisfied hum reverberate through me.
When I’m finished, he drags me across the center console and into his lap. I’m so embarrassed I can’t even look him in the eye. I can’t believe I just did that. More so, I’m shocked that I liked it. Yes, it felt degrading and dirty, like I was being used for his sexual pleasure, but in a way that I enjoyed… if that makes any sense.
His finger tucks under my chin, forcing me to lift my head until my eyes meet his. Instead of the cold, dominant expression I expected to see, his face is filled with awe. “How is it that you’re just so fucking perfect for me?”
I don’t know how to answer that, and he doesn’t seem to expect one as he slams his lips down on mine, stealing the air from my lungs. His cock is already gearing up for round two, and I’m writhing in his lap by the time we pull apart. Insatiable hunger burns in his features, and I know I will not be getting any sleep tonight as we stumble out of the car and over to the elevator.
When the doors slide open, we rush inside and he presses the button for the penthouse suite before pushing me against the wall. His fingers immediately wrap around the hem of my dress and pull it over my hips.
“T-the cameras,” I stutter, panicking as I search for security cameras.
“I own the building. No one will see this.”
I’m not given a chance to protest or say no before he yanks the dress off over my head, leaving me in only my thong and bra.
“Fucking hell,” he hisses, his eyes darting all over me as though they can’t decide where to focus on first. “I need to be inside you right fucking now.”
The elevator pings as we arrive on his floor, and the second the doors open, he throws me over his shoulder, his other hand grabbing my discarded dress. We’re in a small hallway with only one other door, which Conor presses an electronic keycard against before pushing it open and stepping inside.
He drops my dress as he kicks the door shut with his foot, and I barely have a chance to look around his apartment before he has me back on my feet. The room spins as he turns me to face the door, pushing me against it with his weight as he rips my thong from my body.
I cry out with surprise. A cry that turns into a needy moan when his fingers find their way into my pussy a second later.
“Fucking drenched,” he growls in approval. Pulling his fingers free, I hear the sound of a condom packet being ripped open before his cock probes at my entrance. He slams into me with such force that my head bangs off the door, and all I can do is gape open-mouthed as I struggle to adjust.
“Oh god,” I moan.
A deep chuckle comes from behind me. “There’s no God here, babe.” He courses a path of fiery kisses up the column of my neck until he reaches my ear, whispering, “It’s the devil who’s going to make you scream tonight.”
He proceeds to do precisely that, fucking me against his front door like a man possessed. All I can do is mumble his name on repeat as I’m torn into pieces and remade in his image.
He does the same over and over for the rest of the night. Shattering and then reshaping me.
Until he knows every inch of my body. Can make me come with a single touch and a dirty command.
Until I’m sore and drained and thoroughly satisfied.
Until he’s embedded so far under my skin that I’ll never be the same again.
Until I’m remade into exactly who he wants me to be.
CHAPTER FOUR
“What do you mean we’re being evicted?” I spit out, blinking at Carla.
She helplessly shrugs her shoulders, holding out the letter from our landlord. “Apparently he’s looking to sell the place. Probably some developer wants to come in and turn the whole street into high-rises.”
“But,” I splutter, “we live here.”
“Not after this week, we don’t.”
Carla reacts to the news that we’re going to be homeless as of Friday, the same way she’d respond if a friend canceled their cinema trip at the last minute. I need to absorb some of that confidence, because right now, I am freaking out inside. It took me months to find this place; how the hell am I meant to locate somewhere else to live in less than a week?
“It could be worse,” she says when I ask her how she’s so okay with this. “At least we’re not being fired. Even if we couch-surf or live in a shitty studio for a few weeks, we’re still earning money, which means we can afford to live somewhere.”
