Page 32 of Devil’s Night (The Shadows of Darkness Universe #3)
Tossing the blade aside, she stands over me with her lips painted red, her grin twisted with triumph. My heart slams in my chest, hard enough to crack bone.
“Sit up,” she commands.
I don’t move fast enough.
Fingers tangle in my hair, tight and punishing, and she yanks me upright, dragging me onto my knees before her like I’m nothing more than a toy she’s winding back up.
She lifts her gown.
Fuck.
Her pussy is right there. Inches from my mouth. Slick and swollen. The scent of her, heady and addictive, hits me like a drug. My mouth waters. My cock throbs against the constraint of my pants. She's dripping, thighs glistening with arousal that has everything to do with what she just did to me.
Her fingers curl beneath my jaw, forcing my eyes up to meet hers.
“Are you sorry, Echo?” she whispers. Her voice isn’t mocking now. It’s soft.
I can’t think past the ache between us. The way her thighs tremble from the thought of my mouth, the way she’s soaked just from controlling me.
Ignoring the sting bleeding from my chest, I speak the only truth I know.
“Untie me,” I rasp, voice thick with hunger. “And I’ll show you just how sorry I am.”
Her smile deepens.
“Yes,” she purrs. “You will.”
She moves behind me silently, undoing the binds around my wrists one by one. The second the last one falls loose, blood rushes back into my arms, but I don’t even flinch. My eyes are locked on her. Every part of me is coiled, waiting, ravenous.
She steps around to face me.
Slow. Commanding. Gown clinging to her body like a second skin, soaked between her thighs.
Her eyes burn into mine as she reaches out, gathering both hands in my hair, fisting it, before pulling me close like I’m hers to claim. And I am. I fucking am.
My lips part, and I taste her before I even reach her.
The scent of her arousal wraps around me like smoke, dragging me under.
My tongue finds her thigh first, hot and smooth beneath my mouth.
I lick up slowly, reverently, my hands gliding from the back of her legs to her ass, gripping hard, squeezing, needing to feel every inch of her.
Her skin is velvet. Her thighs tremble as I slide the gown higher, bunching it around her waist.
And then, she’s there. Right in front of me.
Her pussy, glistening, perfect, pink and slick, dripping with everything I’ve ever fucking needed.
I stare for a second, breathless. A man kneeling before his god.
“How much did you miss me?” she asks, her voice a soft, wicked sigh. Like she already knows the answer.
So much. Too fucking much.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t want this. But I do. I fucking do.
“More than you’ll ever know,” I whisper, voice low and cracked with need.
Then I bury my face in her pussy.
My tongue drags along her folds, slow at first, savoring the taste of her, the salt of her skin, the sweetness of her need. I lap at her clit like it’s the last thing I’ll ever taste, flicking it, rolling it, teasing until she gasps above me, her fingers yanking tighter in my hair.
I groan into her, sucking, licking, devouring.
She whimpers, her body pressing forward, hips rocking gently against my face, grinding into my mouth with helpless desperation. Her thighs start to shake. Her breaths come harder, faster, chest rising and falling like she’s drowning and I’m her last inhale.
My hands grip her ass, hard enough to bruise, holding her right where I want her. Right where she belongs. I don’t stop. I can’t. Her taste is everything, intoxicating, addictive, mine.
I eat her like a man starved, tongue fucking her until her knees buckle and she has to brace herself on my shoulders, until she’s panting my name between moans and needy little whines she can’t swallow down.
I want to be inside her. I want to stretch her open and make her beg me to stop. I want to ruin her, mark her from the inside out, fuck her until she forgets every other man who’s ever been between her legs.
How many have there been?
How many worthless bastards have touched what belongs to me?
The thought is poison. And it makes me hungrier.
I drag my tongue back up her slit, flick her clit, and press a kiss just above her pussy like a promise.
No one else gets this.
No one else ever will.
And the next time she moans, I won’t stop at my mouth.
I’ll bury myself so deep inside her, she’ll forget how to stand without me.
I don’t give her time to think, don’t give myself time to breathe.
The second her slickness coats my face and her thighs begin to tremble from the aftershock of my tongue, I rise.
My movements are sharp, commanding, frantic with the kind of hunger that lives in my marrow.
The kind that’s been festering inside me since the first time I touched her.
I grab her by the back of the neck, not gently. My grip is firm, possessive, a silent vow carved into my skin and hers. She gasps as I turn her, and before she can speak, I bend her forward over the back of the couch, her breath catching in her throat as her hands splay out to steady herself.
The gown is already bunched around her waist, revealing the slick, swollen mess I’ve made of her.
My mouth is still wet with the taste of her.
My cock is thick and pulsing behind the zipper of my pants, so hard it aches.
I can’t wait, not even for a second. My hands fly to my belt, fumbling only briefly before freeing myself.
The air hitches in her lungs when she hears the sound of my zipper. Her head tilts, like she’s trying to regain control, but it’s too late. I step behind her, grip her hips, and in one fierce, desperate thrust, I sink into her.
She cries out, her voice cracked and feral, half-moan, half-scream.
Her walls tighten around me like a vice, hot and wet and fucking perfect . I nearly see stars. Every inch of her wraps around me like she’s made for this, made for me. I sink deeper, groaning against the back of her neck, my breath heavy, my hands clutching her hips hard enough to bruise.
“Fuck,” I growl against her shoulder, jaw clenched. “You feel so goddamn good.”
I drag my hips back, just enough to feel the stretch, and thrust again, slower this time, deeper.
Her body takes it, swallows me whole, and then begs for more.
She keens when I shift my angle and hit that perfect spot, her fingers digging into the fabric of the couch like she’s trying to claw her way out of this moment, like it’s too much and still not enough.
I slide my hand up her body, along the slope of her spine, until I find her throat. Wrapping my fingers around it from behind, I lift her slightly, keeping her steady as I fuck her deeper, harder. Her back arches into me, hair sticking to the sweat building along her shoulders.
Every thrust is a claim. Every slap of skin against skin is a vow.
This isn’t sex. This is a goddamn reckoning.
She can’t speak, not with the way I hold her throat.
Her moans turn guttural, helpless, her body grinding back into me with unspoken need.
Her cunt grows slicker, tighter, greedier.
And somewhere beneath the mess of it all, I feel the sting of blood, mine, hers, both.
The cut along her hip must have reopened, mixing with the small tear across my hip, and now her ass is streaked with crimson.
It should be wrong. It should disgust me. Instead, it sends me spiraling.
The blood. The sweat. The sound of her falling apart underneath me. All of it blends together into something primal, holy, sacred in its filth.
I slam into her again, forcing a broken sob from her throat. “Say it,” I growl, tightening my grip. “Say you need me, Katya.”
She gasps, her voice barely a breath. “I- I need…”
Her words falter, lost in the force of what I’m giving her.
“Say it,” I snap again, my hips snapping forward, the pace relentless, brutal.
“I- I need you,” she whimpers finally, head falling back as her body trembles. Then, a small smile curls her lips, even through the ruin. “And you ,” she whispers, panting, “you fucking need me.”
And with that, my control shatters.
I spill into her with a low, guttural moan, my cock pulsing inside her as I pour every ounce of need, fury, obsession into her body.
My hands still grip her like I might break her apart if I let go.
My chest heaves against her back, sweat dripping down my spine, my mind blank with the sheer force of release.
I don’t move for a long moment, both of us trembling in the aftermath.
Then, slowly, I pull out.
My cum spills from her, thick and messy, dripping down the inside of her thighs. I watch, mesmerized, transfixed, as she straightens and reaches between her legs, collecting a strand of it on her fingers. She lifts it to her lips without hesitation, tongue flicking out to taste me.
Her grin is feral.
“Perfect,” she murmurs, licking her lips like she’s savoring every drop.
I can’t breathe.
I step forward again, my cock already hardening with the promise of more, my body aching for a second round. I tilt her chin toward me and whisper against her mouth, voice low and ragged.
“Your bedroom,” I say, kissing her with the hunger of a man unhinged. “I’m not done playing with you yet.”