Page 71 of Blood and Thorns

Sensation rippled across my skin, overwhelming, electric, and still, he kept pushing. His fingers pinching and then caressing as he pounded into me.

I couldn’t fight the orgasm that tore through me so violently I shook, my body rippling with the intensity even as Sebastian kept going, his thrusts turning animalistic. Stretching me beyond what I was used to and reaching places I didn’t even know existed.

Sebastian

I didn’t give her time to adapt to my size, wanting her to feel me for fucking days, even weeks once I was finally done. She was fucking perfect, her cunt squeezing me so tightly as she orgasmed with a scream.

For someone who fought me, she came so easily.

Her face was fixed with desire, lips parted as she pressed her head back, exposing her pale throat. I bit down on her shoulder, wanting to mark her anywhere. Everywhere. She still wore my choker, the contrast of her skin against the darkness of my possession enough to make me crazy. Obsessed.

Arabella’s cries became louder, tears leaking from her eyes as she struggled to take the last few inches. “Please, it’s too much.”

“You’ll take it,” I whispered, purposely overstimulating her just so I could break her apart. I pushed past her muscles until I could sink every fucking inch of me inside her, her entire body shaking beneath me.

I let out a groan, and Arabella shifted her hips, taking me even deeper.

Fuck.She really was made for me.

The canvas scraped against the floor, pushed by my movements as I fucked her with harsh strokes. Hooking her legs over my hips, I reached down and pressed against her throat, keeping her in place so I could go harder, faster.

She whimpered, but the more I choked her, the wetter she became.

Arabella reached up to grip me, nails digging into my arm to anchor herself against my thrusts. I waited for a violent response, to want to push her off and hurt her for touching me. But I found I didn’t mind, enjoying the slight pain as she shattered around my cock once again.

She really was a receptive little thing, her body coatedin the most beautiful smears of paint and sweat. Her thighs and pussy glistening with her cum.

She watched me through her lashes, and my eyes clashed with hers as I fucked her until she was nothing but a malleable mess. Rutting into her like an animal, smearing her cum and paint across the canvas like my greatest masterpiece.

My own orgasm tingled my lower spine, and before I came, I sat back on my heels, pulling Arabella up so I could force her to take my cum as deep as possible. My entire body tensed, my cock pulsating as I filled her with a grunt.

Arabella sagged against me, her head resting against my shoulder as she struggled to catch her breath. It took me a moment to calm my own pulse, my cock still twitching inside her. I expected rage at her touch, perhaps even panic. But instead, I wrapped my arm around her back and stood, glancing down at the paint that had transferred onto the canvas.

I’d never fucked without a condom, but with her that would never be an option. Her body was mine to use as I saw fit, without a barrier. I knew she had the implant, her medical records the first thing I asked for when she gave herself over to me. I knew she was clean. Healthy.Mine.

Arabella was sated in my arms, a ragdoll as I reluctantly placed her down. My cum decorated her thighs, and I immediately scooped it up with my fingers, only to press it back inside. She was the perfect distraction, taking all my anger without flinching.

This woman was quickly becoming my very own dangerous addiction, and now that I’d had a taste, I didn’t know if I’d ever want to let go.

Chapter 32

Arabella

Another week passed so fast. I wasn’t allowed out of the penthouse again, which meant I was back to being locked away in my figurative tower. But I was allowed free access, everywhere except the locked door in the west wing.

I spent my days writing or exploring the many rooms up the stairs in the west wing that held no purpose other than storage or to collect dust. Seriously, this place was fucking huge.

In the evenings I read to Sebastian while he painted or practiced with the punching bag. Sometimes he’d paint me, and that always ended with multiple orgasms for us both. I found my body readying itself every time he painted, excited. He was rough, but with the pain came pleasure, and I realised I loved the feeling of being claimed.

Owned.

Used.

He didn’t stop until I was practically boneless, and then he’d carry me back to my bed, or lay me on the chaise lounge.

But I was still trapped, alone.

Lounging back, I bathed in the sunlight in the studio, re-reading my favourite of the three books.