Page 35 of Devil’s Night (The Shadows of Darkness Universe #3)

Her mouth is open against the pillow, her breathing uneven and wet with sobs she’s long since stopped hiding. The sound of her pleasure echoes softly in the room, broken by the rhythm of my hips slamming against her ass. Her body is a mess of overstimulation, slick, flushed, twitching.

Still, she takes me.

Every thrust drives her forward, her body pressing further into the mattress, her limbs too weak to resist. But her cunt grips me with a desperation that betrays her mouth. She says nothing, but her body screams yes.

I watch her closely.

The way her back bows when I slide deeper.

The way her thighs tremble when my hips grind down at the end of each thrust, pressing the head of my cock against the place that makes her sob into the sheets.

The way she moans when I drag my hand up her spine and tangle it in her hair, pulling her back just enough to hear her voice again.

She makes the most beautiful sounds when she forgets she’s not supposed to want this.

I lean over her, chest flush against her back, my breath hot against her ear as I thrust slower, deeper, burying myself inside her inch by inch like I’m carving myself into her memory.

“You’re so full of me you don’t even know where I end and you begin,” I murmur, lips brushing her cheek.

She shudders.

Not just from my words, but from the slow roll of my hips, from the way I grip her jaw and force her head to turn so I can watch her expression as I drag every last ounce of resistance from her.

Her lips are swollen. Her lashes are wet. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, but they stay locked to mine as her cunt clenches down again, tight and hungry.

I pull back slightly, giving her just enough space to feel the absence of me, and then slam back in with force. The bed frame groans beneath us. Her whole body jolts, a cry ripping from her throat that sounds more like surrender than pain.

My hand slides down her side, then lower, cupping her between her legs. She jerks when I touch her clit, her thighs trying to close, but I pin her open with my weight.

Her body is sensitive.

But still she pushes back against me, still she spreads wider, her hips rising involuntarily as I rub her in slow, deliberate circles.

She’s soaked again.

I feel her slick coat my fingers as I stroke her, as I fuck her deeper, as I break her apart piece by trembling piece. Her body doesn’t know what to do anymore, caught between wanting to escape and begging for more.

She cums again.

Not with a scream this time, but with silence. A breathless, shaking release that steals the sound from her lungs. Her pussy clamps down violently, milking my cock, pulling me deeper as her body quakes beneath me, arms collapsing, face pressed deep into the mattress.

I keep moving.

Not out of cruelty, but necessity.

Because I need this.

Because I need her.

Because fucking her like this isn’t just about sex. It’s about being inside the only place I feel at home. It’s about burning my name into her blood, into her skin, into the space behind her ribs where no one else will ever reach.

My thrusts slow, not because I’m done, but because I want her to feel every single second of what I’m giving her.

Every inch.

Every pulse.

Every claim.

Her walls flutter again around me, overstimulated and barely able to keep hold. But she tries. Her body tries. Even broken, she still wants to keep me.

When her hands clench the sheets again, I press my chest to her back, my voice a whisper against her ear.

“I’m going to cum inside you again.”

She whimpers. Nods.

She doesn’t speak, but her hips tilt up.

Welcoming me.

Begging me.

And I do.

I spill inside her slowly, grinding deep, my cock throbbing with the force of it. My cum fills her, mixes with what’s already been left there. It leaks around me before I even pull out, dripping from between her legs, soaking the sheets, her thighs, my skin.

She’s marked.

Inside and out.

I collapse beside her, my hand still on her waist, anchoring her to me even now. Her breath stutters. Her body twitches. Her skin is streaked with sweat and tears and everything I’ve given her tonight.

And she’s never looked more perfect.

Her body is a mess of spasms in my lap, every tremble in her thighs a soft echo of the punishment I’ve already given her.

Her skin sticks to mine with sweat and slick, streaked red in places where my grip had tightened too hard, too long.

Her cunt, still wrapped around my cock, is red and used, puffy from overuse, pulsing with the slow, involuntary contractions of a body that’s forgotten how to come down from climax.

Her head rests limp on my shoulder, the strands of hair plastered to her temple sticky with tears and heat, her chest still stuttering against mine in breathless, shivering aftershock.

I can feel how close she is to unconsciousness.

I know I’ve pushed her past the edge, have ridden her through every twitch and gasp until she’s not thinking in words anymore.

Her muscles twitch from pure reflex, not resistance.

She doesn’t speak. Her voice gave out two orgasms ago.

But her cunt is still clenching around me, soft and warm and welcoming, even as her body shakes like it’s begging for a break.

And I don’t give her one.

I pull out slowly, watching her flinch from the drag, her raw walls fluttering in protest. Then I thrust back in, hard.

Deep. A single, brutal grind that knocks a sob from her throat before she even realizes she’s made a sound.

Her arms twitch but don’t lift. Her legs part just enough for me to take her again, even as her toes curl into the sheets and her jaw locks like she’s fighting not to scream.

I grip her waist with both hands, tilting her hips just slightly, angling her until the head of my cock finds that spot that has her pussy spasming around me.

I feel it, the way she clings, tries to resist the wave I’m forcing through her again.

But she’s helpless. She’s already gone. All instinct. All reaction.

I fuck her slow. Deliberate. Cruel in the way I draw each thrust out, grinding deep until she’s gasping quietly against my throat.

I listen to the breath catch in her lungs.

I feel her nails twitch against my chest like she wants to push me away but can’t remember how.

Her head falls back as another tear escapes the corner of her eye and rolls down her cheek.

She’s not saying no. Not with her mouth. Not with her body either.

Her cunt is soaking me again. Dripping down my cock. Her muscles clench tighter the longer I hold her open, like she’s trying to force me deeper. Her body knows what it wants, even if her mind’s too wrecked to keep up.

I force her hips forward, keeping her arched over me as I grind in slow, bruising strokes. I want her to feel this in her womb. I want it to hurt. I want her to remember this, not just with her mind, but in every ache that’ll stay with her tomorrow.

She starts crying again, softer this time, broken and hoarse.

I lean into her ear, my breath hot and ragged against her skin, and murmur dark things she’s too far gone to process, things about how good she feels, how fucking tight she is, how she’s going to take every last drop whether she begs or not.

And she does.

Her breath shatters in her chest. Her cunt locks down, sudden and sharp, and I feel the tremble before I hear it, another orgasm tearing through her body without permission.

She shakes violently in my lap, her body locking up, her mouth open in a silent scream.

She falls apart against me, totally limp, totally fucked out.

I hold her there, letting her ride the full edge of it, keeping her stuffed full until the spasms fade. Then I start again.

A slow thrust. A deeper one.

Her fingers curl into my chest.

A sound leaves her mouth, just a whisper.

“I can’t… I can’t anymore…”

But her pussy still grips me. Still welcomes every inch of me. Still drips slick over my cock like it doesn’t believe a word she’s saying.

I cradle the back of her neck gently, pulling her head to rest against my shoulder, and I finish inside her, slow, grinding, deliberate thrusts until I come again, deeper this time, her body twitching in protest as I fill her one last time.

My cum mixes with the mess already leaking out of her, spilling down her thighs as she whimpers from the pressure.

She’s motionless for a long time.

Quiet.

Her breathing is shallow, but steady. Her body, still trembling, has lost all tension. I stroke her spine slowly, anchoring her back to the room, to the bed, to me. And I feel it, the moment her fingers twitch, the moment she pulls herself just slightly closer to my chest.

Then her voice breaks the silence.

It’s not loud. Not even steady.

“Don’t leave me.”

My arms tighten around her instantly. I don’t speak. I just breathe into her hair, pulling her fully into my lap, into my chest, holding her like something fragile and sacred.

“Please,” she whispers again, softer now. “Don’t leave me alone…”

Her body curls into mine with a quiet desperation. Her cunt is still leaking around me, still stretched open, still holding the memory of what I did to her. And yet, she clings to me, not to be saved, but to be kept.

I kiss the crown of her head and pull her tighter.

“I’m right here,” I murmur, voice low and rough. “You’re not going anywhere. And neither am I.”

Her breath evens out. Her body, finally, stills.

And for the first time since this began, she lets herself fall, safe in the wreckage, safe in the arms of the man who broke her.