Page 33 of Devil’s Night (The Shadows of Darkness Universe #3)

Chapter twenty-five

Mine To Ruin

Echo

H er body moves like silk and sin, rolling over mine with a control that makes me ache.

Every motion is calculated, meant to break me down piece by piece, to teach me patience in the cruelest way.

She sinks down on my cock with slow, torturous precision, taking me inch by inch until I’m buried so deep inside her, I feel her heartbeat thudding against mine.

I want to grab her hips, fuck up into her, claim back the rhythm. But I don’t. I can’t. Her rules still hang in the air like chains, and the way she watches me, like she’ll punish disobedience with silence, roots me in place.

She rolls her hips slowly, grinding down, her warmth tightening around me as she moves in a slow, deliberate circle that has my jaw clenching, my breath hitching. Her fingers drag down my chest, nails leaving faint red lines in their wake. It’s not pain, it’s possession.

Her mouth lowers to my throat, tongue flicking over the pulse there before she bites, not hard enough to break skin, but firm enough to remind me, I’m hers right now.

“You feel that?” she whispers, her breath hot against my skin. “How tight I am for you? How fucking wet you make me?”

I groan, my head falling back against the mattress. Her pussy clenches around me, fluttering as she grinds down again, pulling a helpless moan from my throat that I can’t swallow fast enough.

“I could ride you like this all night,” she purrs, her voice syrupy and slow. “And you’d take it. Just like that. Quiet. Obedient. Desperate.”

She leans back, one hand sliding between her legs, her fingers rubbing small circles over her clit as she rocks her hips forward again. The sight of her, completely bare, fucking herself on my cock while her own fingers tease her swollen flesh, is enough to make me dizzy.

The sounds, God, the sounds, are wet, obscene. Her slick clings to my skin, every thrust pulling a new moan from her throat, every grind making her thighs quiver just a little more.

“You like watching me take you like this?” she asks, tilting her head, eyes gleaming in the low light. “Do you like feeling my cunt milk your cock while you lie there like a good little toy?”

“Fuck, Katya-” I choke, the muscles in my thighs straining, my body trembling from the effort it takes not to flip her over and fuck her until she’s limp.

She grins like she hears the scream building behind my teeth.

“Not yet,” she whispers, dragging her fingernail down the center of my chest again. “You’ll cum when I say. And not a second sooner.”

My hands fist the sheets beside me. My entire body feels stretched taut, straining against invisible ropes. Her cunt pulses around me again, and my hips buck on instinct, just a shallow thrust, a desperate plea.

She stills instantly.

“You want to finish already?” she asks softly, mockingly. “You’re that close?”

I nod, sweat dripping down my temples, breath coming in shallow pants.

“Good,” she whispers. “Then hold it.”

She starts to move again, this time faster, just slightly. Enough to make my vision blur, enough to send sparks exploding behind my eyelids. She rides me like she’s sculpting her own pleasure, using my body like a throne, like a toy that only works for her.

Her pace builds.

Each grind is harder, wetter, messier.

Her moans get louder, deeper. One of her hands tangles in my hair, tugging just enough to make my back arch beneath her.

She leans in, kissing me deep, open-mouthed, her tongue teasing mine with the same rhythm her hips deliver.

My cock twitches inside her, and I feel the rush hit me hard, too hard.

I’m right there. At the edge.

“Katya, please-” I beg, voice completely wrecked.

Her eyes snap to mine, dark and sharp. “Not. Yet.”

And then she tightens around me, deliberately. Her muscles clench, and her fingers return to her clit, rubbing faster, chasing her own release while mine teeters on the brink.

She’s panting, riding harder now, her thighs slapping against my hips as she gasps out my name again and again, head thrown back in abandon. Her body starts to tremble, her moans break into whimpers, and I feel the telltale flutter of her orgasm creeping in.

And still, I’m not allowed to fall.

She leans over me again, sweat beading on her chest, her lips brushing my ear.

“Now,” she whispers.

That single word is all it takes.

I explode inside her with a guttural groan, hips bucking as I spill into her, my orgasm ripping through me like a storm.

Her own climax crashes over her at the same time, her body trembling as she rides out every wave, her pussy clenching and pulsing around me until I can’t think, can’t speak, can barely breathe.

We collapse together, her body draped over mine, our hearts beating like war drums in unison.

Her fingers trail lazy circles across my chest, her breath still heavy against my neck.

She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to.

She already knows she owns me.

And I’d let her do it all over again.

Her body lies beneath me, flushed and trembling, skin sheened with sweat, the faint ghost of bruises already blooming across her thighs and hips.

Her mouth hangs open, breath coming in shallow gasps, her legs still spread wide, twitching with overstimulation.

She looks ruined. Beautifully so. But I’m not satisfied, not even close.

I slide out of her slowly, her slick coating me, dripping down between her thighs in a messy trail that has my cock twitching again.

She shivers from the loss of fullness, her brows furrowing like she already misses it, and maybe she does.

Maybe she wants more, wants everything I’ve been holding back.

And she’s going to get it.

I shift lower, dragging her thighs over my shoulders as I settle between them.

My hands press to the insides of her knees, forcing them wider.

She whines, tries to close them instinctively, but I growl low in my throat and grip harder until she’s helplessly open beneath me again, glistening and swollen, her cunt raw from everything we’ve already done.

“You can take more,” I murmur, voice dark and thick with need. “You want more, don’t you?”

She bites her lip, eyes fluttering open to meet mine, hazy and unsure, but curious. Needy.

I spit into my palm, slow and deliberate, letting her watch the string of it drip from my lips before I bring it to her entrance.

Her body jerks slightly at the contact, but I rub her slowly, soothingly, dragging slick fingers through her folds, teasing her clit with lazy strokes while my other hand presses flat to her stomach, holding her in place.

“I’m going to give you something else now,” I whisper, bending to kiss the inside of her thigh. “I want to see you stretch for me. I want to feel you open so wide around my hand you can’t think straight. You trust me?”

She nods once. Barely. But it’s enough.

I start slow, two fingers pushing into her, curling up, stroking deep inside until her hips twitch beneath me. She’s soaked. Her body gives easily. She’s already halfway there from everything we’ve done, from the wreckage of her orgasms.

Three fingers slide in next. Her jaw drops, a gasp escaping her lips as I pump into her slowly, steadily, keeping her relaxed, her body clenching and fluttering around me.

Her hands twist into the sheets. She bites her knuckle to keep quiet, but I won’t allow that.

“No,” I growl, pulling her hand from her mouth. “I want to hear you.”

I add a fourth finger.

She cries out, beautiful, broken, her pussy fluttering around the stretch. I slow my movements, coaxing her through it, easing her body open while she trembles beneath me.

And then… my thumb presses in.

She screams, truly screams, as I slide my whole hand inside her, my fingers folding slightly, the knuckles breaching as her cunt swallows me to the wrist.

Her back arches off the bed. Her hands claw at the sheets. Her legs shake violently on either side of my head, and I feel her muscles flutter and grip and fight the stretch, but she takes it.

She wants it.

I pause for a moment, buried deep, just breathing with her, letting her adjust. Her body clenches around me, so fucking tight, so full, and I watch her face shift from pain to awe to desperate, filthy pleasure.

“That’s it,” I whisper, watching her, studying every twitch of her body. “You’re doing so fucking good for me, Katya. You’re taking it like you were made for this.”

I curl my hand just slightly and she wails, her body jerking violently against the bed. Her thighs spasm. Her chest heaves. I pump my wrist slowly, methodically, and every motion has her unraveling more, coming apart in front of me like I’ve split her wide open not just with my hand, but my need.

“Look at you,” I pant, watching her stomach twitch beneath my other hand. “So full. So fucking open.”

She sobs my name, over and over, voice cracked and wild.

I start fucking her with my hand, slow and deep, each drag of my wrist inside her bringing a new wave of cries, moans, curses. The slick, wet sound of it fills the room, echoing off the walls as I break her completely.

She tries to squirm, but she can’t go anywhere. I have her pinned, locked, shattered. Her face contorts with every thrust, her body trembling uncontrollably, her cunt fluttering around the obscene stretch like she’s trying to come, but can’t.

Not yet.

Her climax finally hits like a bomb.

Her legs lock up. Her thighs clamp around my shoulders. Her whole body convulses, her pussy squeezing my hand so tight I can barely move, her scream choking off into something silent and raw as wave after wave crashes through her.

I stay buried in her through it all.

Only when the last tremor fades do I slowly, carefully slide my hand out of her body. The release is wet, messy, obscene, slick dripping from her hole like she’s been broken open. Her legs fall limp to the bed. Her chest rises and falls in erratic gasps.

She’s done.

Ruined.

Owned.