Page 116 of Forgive Me Father

Desperately trying to hold back, I meet his gaze. The sight of him working the toy in and out of me while lavishing attention on my clit is overwhelming.

I can’t stop it.

The warmth surges through my lower stomach as I arch my back, letting out a guttural moan, my release coating the toy. Roman swiftly pulls it away, taking several measured breaths as he examines the toy, his tongue savoring the taste of my cum.

“That’s not me,” He hisses, his voice edged with frustration. “Bad girl, Eden.”

Standing up, he sheds his sweats and retrieves something from the top of his dresser. My heart races as I catch sight of the gleaming knife, its sharp edge catching the light. Roman handles it with a dangerous calm, running his finger over the blade.

“I told you,” He murmurs, “it angered me how he brought you pain. You will only bleed with me, Eden Faulkner.”

He looms over me, pressing the knife’s edge under my shirt, slicing upward until it’s torn away, exposing my aching breasts. With my body on full display, he drags the knife’s point gently down my chest to my lower stomach, tracing a path of tension and anticipation.

He makes a small cut, drawing a trickle of blood, my breath catching in a sharp hiss.

“Keep singing for me, Angel,” He commands softly. “Keep fucking singing.”

Tossing the knife onto the nightstand, he lets the blood trail down my hip bone, his tongue eagerly licking the blood from my skin. Dropping his underwear, he gives himself a few deliberate strokes before grabbing my legs, his eyes intense with a lingering emotion.

“I hope you’re flexible, baby.”

He grabs the backs of my thighs, pulling my knees to the sides of my head, stretching me as far as possible. Fully exposed, I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, my anticipation mounting.

Spitting once more on my warmth for lubrication, he slides into me. The sensation of him is more intense compared to the toy. I let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a moan, wrapping around him, singing for him in the way he desires.

“There’s my pretty girl,” He groans, pulling back slowly before thrusting back into me. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” He praises, his movements growing more intense.

“Look at me fucking you, Eden,” He hisses, his voice raw with desire. “Look at my cock driving into your perfect pussy.”

Forcing my head down, I watch him as his cock slides in and out of me, hitting my g-spot perfectly due to the position he’s put me in. Straining against the binds, I attempt to look away but am met with a sharp slap across my face.

“Did I tell you to stop fucking watching?” He demands, his anger palpable.

Defiantly, I meet his gaze. “Why don’t you take off these binds and fuck me like a real man?”

The familiar look crosses his face. He grabs the knife from the nightstand, slicing through the binds with swift, practiced movements, and tosses the knife away.

He flips me onto my stomach with a decisive motion, the sting of his hand across my ass leaving me gasping. My hips instinctively lift toward him, a whimper escaping my lips.

With deliberate force, he lines himself up and drives into me, each thrust causing a reverberating ache in my hips. His rhythm is relentless, pushing me to the edge with every movement. Iclutch the sheets, my moans mingling with the sound of our bodies colliding.

“Is this what you want, Eden?” He growls, his fingers digging into my hips. “You want me to make you feel every inch of me, to make you come apart for me?” His voice is rough, a stark contrast to the rising pitch of my moans.

I feel his intensity and my own pleasure blending into a heady mix. My fingers find their way to my clit, rubbing with urgency. He grips the back of my neck, pulling me closer so his lips can graze my neck, his free hand caressing one of my breasts. The dual sensation of his touch and the toy drives me wild.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” He commands, his voice strained with desire. “Let go for me. Now.”

The moment I surrender to my climax, he muffles my scream with his hand, our bodies entwining in a chaotic tangle of passion. We collapse onto the bed, breathless and spent.

He pulls me into his embrace, covering us both with a blanket. I rest my head on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath me. He tilts my chin up, his kiss tender and reverent.

“You were perfect,” He murmurs against my lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Roman,” I whisper, my voice soft but filled with affection.

He covers me with the blanket, his kisses gentle as he tends to the cut he made. “It will heal,” He reassures me, his touch lingering.

“I don’t mind,” I smile, running my fingers through his hair. “It’s a part of you.”