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“He did not try to drown me in the bathtub to do filthy things with his mouth.” I shoved against him, desperate to create some small distance between us. “He did not abuse himself over me while I slept.”

His eyes lit up at those words, clearly pleased I had noticed. “But you see, beloved, this is just more evidence of how completely and utterly you own me. Don’t you understand?”

“Own you?” I scoffed. “If I owned you, you would do as I command, and leave me the hell alone. You would not be trying to drive me mad with all this depravity.”

He seized my hair, yanking my head back and leering straight down at me with wild eyes. “You will stop playing the little innocent, do you hear me? You hunger for me the same way I do for you, but you deny it. You deny yourself. Pleasure is not wicked, Evie. Pleasure is not sin, no matter what those bastards who stand up in church tell you.”

I tried to protest, but he broke me off with a harsh, rough kiss, bruising my mouth.

“I will break you of this, I swear it.” His other hand cupped my breast, and I whimpered. “I will chase every puritanical delusion from your mind, if it is the last thing I do. Now get on your fucking knees.”

The rush of heat through my blood at his words, at the mercilessness of his touch, sent shame racing into my cheeks.But he gave me no time to dwell on those thoughts, pushing me to my knees before him, and unbuttoning his trousers. His member was swollen, lined with thick veins, and I realised as I was face to face with this engorged monstrosity, that I had never seen a penis this close before. It was horrifying and fascinating at the same time, and it did not wonder me at all that I had been sore after his violation. And I certainly had no idea how this thing was going to fit inside my mouth.

I glared up at him, at his self-satisfied smirk, and bared my teeth. “And what if I bite it off?”

He laughed, stroking a finger along my jaw. “And never be fucked by it again? I think not, beloved. I know you are dripping for me right now. There’s an ache between your legs, as though you are hollow without me.”

Dammit but I hated him. For even as the words left his mouth, need flooded me, and I clenched my thighs together. As though he could see the fight leaving me, as desire took over, Azriel grinned down at me, stroking his thumb over my lips.

“Now, show me just how much you want to help your family.”

I bit down on his thumb, and he hissed through a laugh.

“My little viper, indeed.” He squeezed my face, forcing my mouth open, and shoved me down onto his length without any further preamble.

My eyes widened as I choked on him, as he thrust his hips forward and hit the back of my throat, over and over again. He threaded his hands into my hair, and groaned loudly.

“Oh god, Evie. Fuck, yes. What an exquisite little mouth my wanton whore has.”

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I had to tell myself to breathe through my nose, to just keep breathing. It would be over soon. But the lie I was telling myself faded with everysound that left Azriel’s mouth. Perhaps I was a whore. Perhaps I was soiled, and immoral. I found myself digging my hands into his thighs, urging him closer, closer, trying to take down more and more of him, if only to try and relieve the unbearable heat blooming between my legs.

I did feel hollow. I felt lost and hollow and wanted relief, to feel myself break over that edge once again. Could I touch myself? Oh god. I clenched my eyes closed and sucked harder, fighting the unclean thoughts that circled my mind. What had I become? I was here, disheveled on the dining room floor, with Azriel’s cock in my mouth, and all I wanted to do was pull up my skirts and plunge my fingers into my sex, to stroke my bud until I exploded as I had at Azriel’s touch.

Resisting was torture.

An unbidden whimper echoed in my throat, and Azriel gritted out a laugh over a strained moan.

“Listen to you, my desperate little viper.” He shoved harder, and I gagged, my lips burning as they were pulled tight around him. Through my blurred vision, I saw his eyes flutter closed, his teeth gritted, his hands still firmly in my hair.

I was light-headed, my face soaked, and I bunched my petticoat between my legs, almost crying out around him as the cotton found my centre. I rocked back and forth, my whole body unbearably hot, feeling as though it would take barely a few movements to unravel down here on the floor.

Then Azriel groaned loudly, his manhood twitching in my mouth, a hot, salty stream erupting down my throat. I choked, trying to swallow him but too surprised and too caught in my own lust. His seed spilled down my chin, and as I pulled back from him, his length escaped my mouth, and a hot spurt of his spend lashed my face.

My mouth now free, I moaned as he continued to ejaculateon my face, not caring, because my god, that sweet agony was so close. This was how I was to spend my last night before I was known to be a fallen woman, known to be no good - abusing myself at the feet of my stepson, while he painted my face with sin.

A high-pitched, needy whimper broke from me, and I was close, so close. I looked up at Azriel through hooded eyes, and his shoulders were heaving. He watched me with open desire, his eyes so dazzlingly blue and bright that I was sure they would burn me.

“Lie back,” he commanded in a low voice. “Lie back and spread your legs, and let me see.”

I was not even shocked at these words, so lost in desire and drink was I. I lay down on my back, frantically pulling up my skirts and crying out as my fingers stroked over my swollen nub. I was so sensitive that the touch was painful, so desperate and aching for release. I shoved two fingers inside me, but it was not enough, even three did not satisfy me, aching and needing something to fill and stretch me.

But Azriel stood over me, unmoving, his trousers still undone, his cock slowly hardening once more as he looked down on me.

The storm crashed through me, my back arching off the floor, my legs splayed wide open so Azriel could witness my final act of ruin. The violent pulse around my fingers caught me off guard, and as soon as my release had crested, I wanted more, ached for more.

There I lay, a panting mess, and looked up at him.

Horror flooded me. For he did not look disgusted. He looked proud. Triumphant, even.