Page 95 of Cain

“Please,” she cries. “I can’t?—”

She’s still twitching when I push her knees higher. Her pussy’s throbbing, and I spit on it again just to hear her whimper.

“Look at this mess,” I say. “And I haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”

She looks fucking beautiful, and I fucking love it.

“Cain, I’m—” she pants, her fingers pulling my hair harder. “I’m coming again!”

Another orgasm crashes through her. She arches off the bed, her thighs tightening around my head, but I growl and hold her still, licking her through it like I’ll never stop.

When her body stops jerking, I finally do.

My face is soaked. I bring my fingers in my mouth and suck her off them, then off my lips.

“You taste like sin.” I lean in and lick her bottom lip, her breath hammering against me. “I’m not done with you. When I come back, I’m going to fuck you exactly how I want.”

She doesn’t answer, but she nods with a broken smile.

I love the way she surrenders and accepts that she’s my little plaything.

But for now, I need to see what Bruce has to say.

Ihave never had such an intense orgasm in my entire life.

Well, I’ve only been with Kryštof, but I never reached that point of breaking. Not even by myself. It’s like Cain knows exactly what I want and does it before I even think of it.

My body is still trembling from the loud and strong orgasms, and he said—hell, he threatened—he’d come back. Does it make me sick that I’m looking forward to it? Does the fact that I’m craving a monster make me insane? Well, maybe, but I can’t control the need and the pull I feel when he’saround.

He’s the devil, I know. He’s a two-faced bastard that wants to break me. And there are moments of clarity when I still want to run from him, but his intoxicating presence keeps me caged here. Hell, I’ve started to feel more safe around him than trapped.

It doesn’t feel like it was at home. I never felt wanted or welcomed, even by my parents. But here … being next to him is different.

I traveled halfway across the world to find freedom, and I found it in a man who made me a prisoner of his obsession.

Now, I know how I feel. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than I want him. His attention. His touch.

I finally manage to stand and jump in the shower. It doesn’t take me long to wash my hair and shower my body. Maybe deep down, I want to be quick, so I’ll be ready when he comes back.

God, I’m sick. So sick.

After a little while, I step out, brushing my damp hair back and slipping into a baby-pink A-line minidress. It has a cut at the chest, deep enough to catch his eye. Maybe it’s not random, but whatever. What’s done is done and can’t be undone!

I look at myself in the vanity mirror and straighten the dress on my body. A beige vase of fresh red roses stands on the corner of the table, making my room smell like flowers. He has Eleanor refresh the roses in my room every two or three days. I can’t say I don’t love it. In fact, this smell calms my mind, and when I close my eyes, every problem seems tiny and trivial.

The door knocks twice. Such a gentleman. Just like before.

“Come in.”

The door opens slowly, and my heart nearly skips. What the hell is going on?

It’s that guy—Bruce.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He doesn’t reply, but there’s something wicked in his eyes. He’s smiling, but I don’t see anything funny or pleasant in that smile. His eyes are fixed on me as he steps inside and closes the door behind him. “Mind if I join you, doll?”

“Open the door.”