Page 18 of Devil’s Night (The Shadows of Darkness Universe #3)

My hips move on their own, grinding, rocking, chasing the high he's dragging out of me with his mouth. Wet, obscene sounds fill the room, echoing in the silence like sin. His tongue slides along my entrance and circles my clit, and the moment his lips close around it, hard, I cry out.

Louder this time. Shameless.

Fingers tangle in his hair, tugging so hard I know it must hurt, but he groans against me like he likes it. The vibration rips through me like lightning. My own hair brushes the small of my back as I lean forward, gripping onto the headboard, needing something to hold onto.

His scent. His taste. His control. It’s all I can feel.

Fuck, what am I doing?

He’s vulnerable like this. Exposed. Drunk.

And still, he’s completely in control.

Because I can’t stop.

The heat coils tighter and tighter until it snaps, and when it does, I break over his mouth like a wave. Shaking. Writhing. Cuming hard.

But he doesn’t stop.

He keeps going, dragging every last ripple of my orgasm out until I’m trembling and soaked, until my cum is coating his face, his jaw, his mouth—until there’s no room left for shame.

Only pleasure.

Only his name.

The more I cry out, the more I come undone, the harder he grips my thighs, holding me down as his tongue laps me clean like a man feasting at the altar of something sacred.

This isn’t gentle. This isn’t soft. This is worship.

And I let him.

Because I’ve never been devoured like this. Never been ruined so sweetly. Never wanted anything more.

He sits up without warning, keeping me straddled across his lap like a throne he refuses to relinquish. My cum glistens along his face, lips, chin and cheekbones, catching the silver glow of the moonlight through the bars on the window like a crown made of sin.

And fuck, he wears it proudly.

Fisting a hand into my hair, he yanks me closer with a sharp tug that forces a gasp from my throat, my body jolting against his in response. The look in his eyes is absolute. The demand slices through me like a hot blade.

My release, my mess, shines along his perfect, ruined features, and still, he doesn’t wipe it away. He wants me to do it. He needs me to.

And I do. Without question. Without shame.

With a breath that trembles on the edge of obedience and obsession, I lean in, my tongue dragging slow and heavy along the sharp line of his jaw, tasting the raw, warm tang of my own arousal smeared across his skin.

It coats my tongue, sweet and electric, fueling a heat that hasn’t gone anywhere, only deepened.

Every breath, every lick, feels like surrender.

His cheeks. His nose. His lips. I clean him like it’s a ritual, a worship, and in some sick, twisted way, it is .

He made me cum, and now he wants every trace of it gone by my mouth.

So I drag my tongue over the bridge of his nose, lapping up every drop like I’m starving, like I’ve forgotten anything outside of him exists.

My hips start to move, slow, desperate rolls over the thick hardness pulsing beneath me. It presses right against where I’m still wet, still trembling, still aching for more.

His hands dig into my waist, gripping me with bruising force, holding me there, teasing me with what’s beneath me but giving me nothing.

The stretch. The size. The very thought of him inside me is terrifying. Unthinkable. I want it anyway.

Want to feel him split me open. Want to hear him groan against my throat as I fall apart around him all over again.

He says nothing as I keep licking him clean, like he knows I’m falling deeper with every stroke of my tongue. Like he’s giving me just enough to ruin myself on him, slowly, willingly, helplessly.

And he hasn’t even fucked me yet.

Once I’ve finished licking every last drop of myself off his face, he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t give praise. Doesn’t offer softness.

He just lays me back.

My spine meets the mattress, cool against my sweat-slick skin, and then his hand is between my legs, again , like I haven’t already shattered for him once tonight.

Two fingers slip inside with zero resistance.

The stretch is sudden, knuckle-deep, and brutal in its precision. My body jerks, a cry catching in my throat as he pumps them hard, relentless, like he’s trying to wring another orgasm out of me just to prove he can.

Gasps fill the air between us, sharp and ragged. My lip trembles as I reach for something, anything , but there's only him. Only the lewd, wet sound of my slick coating his hand with every brutal thrust.

I’m so soaked he could fit his entire hand in if he wanted. The thought alone sends heat lashing through my abdomen, tightening like a noose around my sanity.

“You will not leave,” he whispers against my skin, his voice like a prayer dipped in violence.

Then a third finger slides in, stretching me even wider.

“You won’t leave,” he continues, biting the shell of my ear, “because you won’t want to leave.”

The moan that leaves me is part denial, part surrender.

“You’re wrong,” I gasp, even as my body arches into his touch like it’s begging for more.

A dark laugh rumbles in his throat.

“We’ll see,” Echo mutters, dragging his tongue down the column of my neck, slow and deliberate, before his teeth sink into my skin hard enough to leave a mark. My breath stutters, eyes fluttering closed, and then just like that, he pulls his fingers out of me.

Too soon. Too cruel.

I whimper from the loss, every nerve still lit like firecrackers.

And then, I watch.

I watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth, licks my taste from his fingers with a lazy smirk, and walks away from the bed like I didn’t just fall apart for him. Like I’m not still trembling. Still open. Still needing.

“You could’ve killed me,” I say, voice cracking in the dim silence. “Strangled me. Locked me in here and made me disappear.”

“But you didn’t, Echo. Why?”

He pauses in the doorway, fingers still glistening with my slick.

“You could’ve strangled me. Shot me like you did Nikolai. Left me with nothing.”I swallow hard, hating the rasp in my voice. “But instead… you came in here and let me ride your face like a whore until I came.”

The words hang heavy in the dark.

He doesn’t respond.

Just closes the door behind him, leaving me in silence, the echo of his touch still pulsing inside me.

Only when the click of the latch sounds does my body finally give in.

Eyes closed. Breathing shallow.

And this time, I sleep.