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Her blue eyes meet mine and I cannot imagine a more beautiful sight. Her heavy-lidded gaze transfixes me as I watch her full mouth welcome my invasion. A groan escapes her lips, sending waves of pleasure down my spine.
She groans again, digging her nails into the back of my thighs and suddenly, I am her prey.
“Fuck, just like that, pet,” I sigh “Take everything from me.”
Her eyes smolder, gripping the base of my cock, she thrusts my length inside her mouth. She takes me deeper than before, a hunger in her eyes that unravels me. I throw my head back, my balls shooting up as my seed is drained from me. I grip her hair, holding her head in place as I fill her mouth.
The mixture of saliva and cum runs from the corners of her mouth as she swallows the rest. I pull my cock from her, causing her to sigh softly. Despite the blush covering her face, she holds her stance, looking up with a need that begged to be satiated.
I'll never have enough of her.
11
DIANE
Ican’t believe I sucked him off under the table. My promises to my mother truly mean nothing anymore. I’m earning money on my beauty, just like she did. I can feel the pressure of tears at the back of my throat, but I swallow them down. I can’t let him see.
My mind won’t stop reliving it, the weight of his cock in my mouth, the taste of his cum on my tongue. I couldn’t have really done that, could I? It feels like something that happened to someone else, something I just watched.
Except my mouth still aches, my throat is still raw, his cum is drying on my chin. No matter how many times I swallow, I still taste bitterness and salt. When it was happening, all I could think about was the act. It was almost meditative.
Did I… enjoy it? Am I that kind of girl? It feels impossible to deny as I lick my ravished lips, spit slick and swollen. It feels strangely empty now. Who am I becoming?
I don’t know how long I’d been thinking, but it seems it was too long. Carmichael grabs me around the waist and pulls me from under the table. He lifts me as easily as a doll, carrying me close to his chest.
“Wait, where are we going?” I cry. My heart is pounding in my chest. His is steady against my cheek, strong and unchanging.
He doesn’t reply. I can read nothing in his stoic expression. His dark gray eyes are flat and cold. He’s like a stone statue, rigid and unbending, no color in him anywhere.
With one swift kick, he forces the door open. I get an impression of rich velvet curtains and opulent furniture as he carries me inside. He throws me on the bed hard enough that I bounce. I look up at him, looming over me. He’s so much bigger than I am.
My eyes sting as the tears push their way past my self-control. Is he going to force me? He saved me before, but that’s just because he wants me for himself.
“Stop, please. Sir,” I say, almost forgetting to address him respectfully. My voice is small and I cringe. This timidness isn’t me, but I can’t seem to stop. I blink, willing the tears away. “Would you go slow? Please? It’s my first time.”
He kneels over me, trapping my body between his knees. His face is so far from me I can barely make out his features. “I know that, pet,” he says in his deep, even voice. “You owe me. And now, I am going to collect.”
He takes the neck of my dress in his hands and tears it open down to my waist. The silk used to make it alone could probably feed my family for a month. But he gave it to me. It’s his to ruin. I bite my lip to keep from crying out.
I can feel his gaze on me, hot and burning. The lust of the elves is so much more potent than what I experience as a human. It’s hard to think of Carmichael as uncontrolled, but I can’t help the nervousness that flutters in my stomach.
The harsh sound of ripping fabric fills my ears as he tears my beautiful dress to pieces, flinging it carelessly aside. The slip underneath quickly follows, and then he’s grabbing at the bindings on my chest and the lace underwear I’d been so unsure about.
He yanks brutally, like he’s furious at the clothes he picked out. It takes everything in me not to make more than a small noise as the fabric digs into my skin, stinging and pulling before finally giving under his strength.
Cold air rushes over my skin. The only place I’m warm is where his body covers mine. I’m completely naked, laid bare before him. The flowers in my hair are long since crushed to death. I feel like the same is about to happen to me.
His hands are on me immediately, roaming my body like he’s trying to memorize every inch. His skin isn’t rough, but his treatment is, squeezing my breasts like he’s testing produce at the market. His slim fingers slide between my lips, poking and prodding.
Lines of fire blaze across my stomach as he rakes his nails over the sensitive skin. He grabs my hips so tightly I can feel the bruises forming under his fingers. It’s too much. A pained yelp escapes me.
He stops. “What was that, pet?” It is a demand.
“Nothing, sir,” I say, struggling not to whimper. For a terrible moment, there is silence, nothing but my harsh breathing. Then, he touches me again.
I gasp. It’s different, so different from before.
His fingers trace along my collarbones as light as a butterfly’s touch. He caresses my breasts, thumbs just brushing at my nipples. It’s teasing, but it lights a fire between my legs. This time, the noise that slips from me is a moan of pleasure.
