Page 63

Story: C is For Corruption

“You wanted to keep going?” he muttered, voice low and lethal as he climbed between my legs. “Wanted your mouth full of me while I came down your throat, didn’t you?” I whimpered, nodding before I could stop myself. “That’s because you’re so eager to be used. So fucking desperate to please. Even when it means you’ll disobey to do it,” he growled, gripping my thighs and yanking me down the bed until our hips collided.

“Yes, Sir,” I gasped, my whole body bowstring tight, needing. And then he slammed into me. I cried out, stars exploding behind my eyes as he drove himself to the hilt, not giving me a second to adjust. He set a brutal rhythm from the start. His hips snapped against mine, his hand fisted in my hair as he bent over me, his mouth right at my ear.

“Right now, this body is mine. Say it.”

“It’s yours,” I gasped.

“Louder.”

“It’s yours, Sir. All yours!”

“Good girl.” He reached down and grabbed my throat, not squeezing, just holding, like a reminder. “You think about anyone else when I’m inside you like this?”

“N-no,” I whimpered.

“Damn right you don’t. You don’t think at all, do you, baby? Not when I’ve got your perfect little pussy gripping me like this.” I shook my head, breath caught in my chest, vision blurring as he drove into me again and again, the bed creaking, the headboard knocking against the wall. Neither of us cared. “Fucking made for me,” he groaned. “My good little whore. My perfect girl. Look at you… look at you taking it like you were born for it.”

Every word sent a fresh bolt of heat through me, pooling low in my belly, building until I couldn’t tell where the pain ended and the pleasure began. My legs were shaking, my nails clawing at his back as he fucked me into oblivion.

“Sir—I—please—”

“Don’t hold back,” he snarled, slamming into me harder. “Give it to me. Let me feel it.” The dam broke. My entire body arched up off the mattress as I shattered beneath him, crying out his name like a prayer. My vision went white. My limbs trembled. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. I was nothing but sensation and surrender and his.

Az didn’t stop.

Not when I came. Not when I cried out his name like a prayer. He didn’t slow down—he owned me. And when the tremors started to fade, he shifted. His hands slid under my knees, folding me open, deeper, fuller than before. His thrusts slowed, but they didn’t soften. His hand slid between us, finding my clit, rubbing slow, maddening circles that had my body twitching from the aftershocks.

“I could stay buried in you forever,” he murmured, gaze locked on mine. “You’re so fucking good for me.” I whimpered, too raw to speak, too full to think.

“You think I’m done?” he asked, voice rough but reverent. “Not even close.” he said, dragging himself almost all the way out before thrusting back in, slow and deliberate. “You’re perfectlike this. A wrecked fucking mess.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “You make me fucking insane.”

He kissed me then, deep and claiming, his tongue sweeping into my mouth like he was devouring me from the inside out. His fingers on my clit, rubbing tight circles, had pressure building in my spine that was driving me crazy.

“You gonna give me another?” he asked. “Gonna let me fuck you until you scream again?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, legs trembling in his hold. My second orgasm built slower, like fire crawling up my spine, coiling tighter and tighter around every nerve. I felt every inch of him, every breath, every ragged moan he pulled from my lips.

“That’s it, Love,” he said. “Come for me again. Let me see you fall apart.”

I shattered again with his name on my tongue, a wreck beneath him, drowning in the way he moved, the way helovedme. Because it was love, in the way Az gave it. Brutal. Beautiful. Unrelenting. My body clenched around him, my nails digging into his back again as I sobbed through the pleasure. Az growled something low and unintelligible before slamming into me one final time.

And then his release tore through him like a storm, his whole body going taut, his groan punched out of his chest as he poured himself into the condom, hips grinding through the aftershocks.

“My good girl,” he murmured.

Az didn’t move for a long moment. He just stayed there, buried deep, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling as we came down together. His hand was still on my throat, but now it was gentle, almost absent-minded, the barest brush of his thumb along my jaw like he wasn’t ready to let go of the connection.

“My good girl,” he murmured again, quieter this time. I swallowed, blinking up at him, body boneless beneath him. Every inch of me ached in the best possible way. Wrecked, yes, but treasured.

His eyes were on mine, fierce and dark and heavy with something unspoken. Then he shifted, slowly, carefully pulling out and slipping away to dispose of the condom. I whimpered at the loss, at the chill of air hitting my skin, but he was already back and tugging the covers down, sliding his arms beneath me to lift me into them like I weighed nothing at all.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low but steady, his lips ghosting the crown of my head as he pulled the blankets around us. His chest was warm against my back, his hand splayed wide across my stomach, grounding me.

I nodded, curling into him. “Yeah. Just… floaty.”

His arms tightened, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Good.”

He didn’t say much after that; he never did in moments like these. But I could feel it in the way he held me. In the way his nose skimmed the back of my neck. In the way his thumb drew lazy circles on my skin, over and over like a heartbeat.