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Reaching down, he grips my breasts in his hands, balancing over my body. “Hold on to the mattress, Charlotte. Watch your stitches.”
I’d forgotten they existed, but he didn’t. Even in this moment, this killer is more aware of me than I am.
Thumbs brush across my bruised and chafed nipples, but Lyric doesn’t care as he twists them until they burn, then he chases the pain with spittle as he spits on them. He swipes his saliva across the bud, causing me to whimper.
His sadistic pleasure only adds to the intensity of the moment, his wicked grin and smoldering eyes driving me wild with desire. My hips arch, and I hold on as he repeats the process while remaining deep inside me.
I can feel the fire burning within me, an inferno of need and longing threatening to consume me completely. The tension in the air is palpable, a tightrope I’m balancing on. I know that it could all come crashing down at any moment in an explosion of pleasure and release.
I will it to.
“Lyric,” I whisper. My body bows, and I can feel my cunt pulse around him.
“Beg me.” His voice is deep, almost cruel, as he withdraws, only to thrust inside me and stay there. “Beg me, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“Lyric,” I rasp out. “Please.”
“Please, what?” There’s a darkness to his voice that wasn’t there a moment ago, as though he lost control of the beast that lives inside him.
“Please let me come.”
“No,” comes his sharp reply, followed by a cruel laugh as he holds me still and fucks me into the mattress. My breasts sway, and my body sings under his touch, but he draws it out, leaving me breathless.
“Lyric,” I whine, begging him just like he wanted.
“That’s it, baby. Beg me to give you what you want. Beg me,” Lyric encourages with a wicked grin.
“Please. Please. Please let me come,” I beg between each rock of his hips. The pressure is building to a breaking point. His cock rubs against every nerve ending inside me until I feel as though I might lose consciousness.
Lyric’s hands grip my throat, squeezing firmly. It’s just hard enough to remind me that he’s in control. “Repeat it.” His voice is dark and possessive. I feel his breath on my ear as he leans over me, nipping my earlobe. “Say it again.”
“Please. Please, please let me come. Please let me come. Please.” My voice trembles with desperate need.
“You want this? You want to come, dove?” he asks with mock concern.
“Yes.”
I can’t stay still anymore, my body twitching with need, and the longer Lyric holds me down, the worse it gets. Like a fire is under my skin, I squirm and try to break his hold.
“There it is.” A guttural moan rips from his throat as he throws his head back in pleasure, his grip like a vise on my neck. His eyes burn with fire as he growls out a challenge. “Fight me, baby.”
Desperate for release, I struggle to get him to release my leg and let me come. I try to move my hips and get him to hit that tender spot inside me.
The only response I get is laughter as he pounds into me relentlessly, as though the more I struggle, the more he gets off.
I can feel my core clenching down on him, my body choosing to crash with or without his approval.
He pulls out again with a growl, causing me to thrash at the missed release. Tears burn in my eyes, one slipping free as I beg and cry.
My legs come up off the bed, and I knock into him with a strength I didn’t know I possessed.
Lyric doesn’t even stop as he thrusts back into me.
Every inch of me throbs with a primal urge as he presses his full weight against my hips and holds me down. I struggle against him, but the harder I fight, the further I am pulled into the shadows of something darker. My hands grasp at his chest, desperate to escape his iron grip. His touch ignites a scorching fire in my veins that blurs the line between pleasure and pain. I gasp for air, dizzied by the intensity of the moment.
The weight of this interaction bears down on me, threatening to crush every bone in my body. It’s as if he’s pulling something raw and primal from deep within me, something that I didn’t even know existed until now, but I don’t have time to process what this means or what it says about me.
My nails score his skin as we grapple on the bed, each of us fighting for what we want. As one moan slips out too loudly, Lyric slaps a hand over my mouth, his voice brushing against my ear. “Shh, you don’t want to alert Milo.” His laugh is dark and sinister, yet my core clenches around his length. “Fuck, you want to come so badly, don’t you? Fight me, baby. Take what you want.”
