Page 52 of His To Erase

Ani

What the fuck did I just do?

My thighs are still shaking and my breath catches on every uneven inhale.

I feel hollowed out and rewired—like something vital was yanked from me and replaced with heat. I came all over him.

After crawling.

I should feel ashamed, or something. But all I feel is this white-hot static in my chest that won’t burn out. I’ve never been so turned on in my fucking life.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I do that? Why did I like it?

I try to pull away. To reclaim some sliver of control, but I don’t get far—because his hand is still between my legs.

His fingers drag through my slick folds again—slower this time—and my whole body jolts. Every nerve lights up, too raw to hide. He’s not teasing me anymore—he’s reminding me who I belong to. Every pass of his fingers reignites the heat and the need. And I can’t stop shaking.

“Look at you. Still fucking open for me.”

His breath skates across my jaw, and it’s a threat disguised as worship.

And fuck me—I want it. I want him so bad. At this point, I’d do whatever he asked me to.

My pride screams at me to look away, to claw my way back to whatever scraps of dignity I have left and get up, but my body doesn’t move.

I’m still open for him, because I need him to keep going. I’m so wrecked I could cry.

And God, I hate how much I need him right now.

I open my mouth to snap back—because I need to fight like I still have something left to protect. But then he does something unforgivable. He pulls his fingers out and for one, fleeting, horrifying second—I think it’s over.

Then his hands are on me again—hauling me up off the floor like I don’t weigh a fucking thing. My back’s still slick with sweat, and my thighs are trembling from the aftershocks, but he doesn’t give me a second to recover.

He drops to his knees between mine.

“Spread your legs,” he says.

I don’t move fast enough, so he does it for me. He puts one hand on each thigh and pushes me open again.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

But before I can shake my head, or even react, he’s eating me like he’s punishing me for making him want it this bad. His hands clamp around my thighs, holding me still while his mouth works every inch—licking, sucking, and fucking me with his tongue until I’m shaking all over again.

“Oh God—please—”

“Say his name again,” he growls, dragging his fingers through my soaked slit and thrusting them deep, “and I’ll make you choke on mine until you remember who answers your prayers.”

He devours me like he’s starving and I’m the last thing worth tasting.

When he finally pulls back—his lips are wet, and his eyes are fucking glowing.

He doesn’t even give me a chance to breathe—just grabs me, spins me around, and bends me over the couch, yanking me back onto my knees like I’m nothing but a body for him to throw around.

And it’s fucking hot.

There’s no warning before I feel the thick, hot drag of him between my soaked lips—slow and punishing—coating himself in everything he just wrung out of me.

“You wanted control,” he growls, as his thick tip presses right where I’m still aching. “You begged for it. Crawled for it.”

He pushes forward just enough to make me jolt—and my arms give out.

“And now you’re gonna take it.”

My scream tears through the room, and I’m wrecked. He’s everywhere. Inside me. Over me. Around me.

And—oh my fucking god—he’s huge.

I’ve never actually seen it yet, but it feels like he’s splitting me in half. My head spins and I can’t catch my breath. I can’t even think straight.

I can’t do anything but take it.

His cock stretches me wide, and for a second, I swear my soul leaves my body.

Part of me feels like I should feel used in a way. But the only thing I feel is full. I have this need for him that’s a fucking addiction at this point.

His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back until my spine bows tight and I’m gasping—pulsing around him, completely gone.

“Say it,” he growls, against my ear.

When his hips snap forward with one merciless thrust, the air leaves my lungs in a shattered gasp. My mind is gone. Blank.

My body isn’t mine anymore, it’s his. Every inch. Every breath. Every fucking nerve ending. It all belongs to him.

And God help me—I love it.

I love the way he’s ruining me. I love the stretch, the burn, the wet sound of his cock slamming into my cunt like it’s always belonged there.

“Yours,” I choke out.

The word rips from my throat like it hurts to give, but his growl that follows is feral. His grip shifts from my hair to the back of my neck, shoving me down, forcing me flat with my face pressing into the couch. My ass is still raised, and I’m still split wide open around him.

Still. Fucking. His.

And I don’t want it to end.

“Good fucking girl.”

My pussy clenches—greedy and desperate—just from those three words. Instantly soaking him, as it drips down my thighs like I’ve been starving for this all along. Which, to be fair, I have.

He slams into me again—hard—and I cry out, my face mashed into the couch, helpless under the weight of him. I love the way he uses me like I was made for it.

"Look at you," he snarls. “You wanted a god?”

His next thrust knocks the air out of me, and my vision blurs.

“You fucking got one.”

I’m spiraling. And not just from his cock. From his voice, and the way he says it.

Okay, fine. I wanted it the whole time. I wanted the monster, the god. The faceless fucking storm I crawled to worship. Something inside me needed to be ruined, to be split in half by someone who wouldn’t flinch when I broke.

And now that he’s inside me—claiming me with every fucking thrust—there’s no coming back from it. There’s no pretending I didn’t ask for this.

My body isn’t mine anymore—just raw nerve endings and a pulse that beats for him.

Each thrust knocks a sound out of me I don’t recognize—broken, and completely unhinged.

Another orgasm builds low in my spine, and it’s impossible to hold back.

He owns me right now.

Body. Breath. Soul.

And I’ve never been wetter in my fucking life.

“Please,” I gasp. My voice is gone, as my nails claw at the couch like I can hold on to something. But there’s no holding on.

There’s only him.

He pulls out—just long enough to slap the head of his cock against my clit.

I jerk, moaning. This shouldn’t feel this good. I’m right there, strung up and shaking, one touch away from seeing stars. Oh my God, where has this man been all my life?

He thrusts back in—only deeper this time. More unforgiving. This man isn’t just fucking me—he’s claiming me. He’s marking places no one’s ever touched. Places I didn’t even know I had.

And I feel it everywhere.

“Steven—please—” I gasp, drooling into the couch, not even trying to hide how wrecked I am. “I can’t—I need—”

His hand wraps tight around my throat. “You wanna be my good girl, don’t you?” he growls.

Fuck.

I nod, whimpering.

He just laughs, dark and so fucking satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”

When he pulls out again—just to the tip—and slams back in, I choke on a scream. Every thrust knocks the sound out of me and he talks me through it.

“You looked so fucking beautiful crawling for it.”

Thrust.

“Begged so good.”

Thrust.

“And now you’re gonna wait.”

My hips buck without permission, searching for more, but he just presses me down with his palm flat between my shoulder blades, pinning me like I’m nothing but a toy he’s not finished with.

I’m slipping fast, and he knows it. I can feel my release coiling tighter and tighter, until it’s all I can feel.

It’s too much.

“Fuck—please—please, I swear—just let me—”

“Not yet.”

His voice is totally unmoved. He’s acting like he’s got centuries to watch me come apart.

The second he says it—my body stalls. The orgasm just hangs there.

Every goddamn second he makes me wait pushes me closer to losing it and jumping him.

I’m clenching around nothing, soaked and dripping, my clit throbs like it’s screaming for mercy. And he just watches me suffer.

He pulls out again. And I cry.

Real, pathetic tears.

I feel so fucking empty without him inside me. I start to protest, but he grabs my hips—hard—dragging me back and flips me on my back.

He slowly kneels between my legs.

“You wanna come?” His voice is low as he wraps one hand around his length—stroking slowly, while he stares at me.

I nod.

I’m surprised I even could give him that much.

And then—Thank God—he slides back in. And this time, he doesn’t stop. He fucks me like he’s carving his name into my soul. My nails dig into his back and my pussy clenches like it’s never letting him go.

I shatter.

I come with a scream that tears from my chest like violence—legs shaking, back arching, body convulsing around his cock like it was built for this.

And he doesn’t stop.

He fucks me through it, through the aftershocks and overstimulation and wreckage, growling against my skin like a goddamn animal.

“That’s it,” he breathes, dragging his lips down my jaw, over my throat. “That’s what I fucking wanted.”

His hips slam forward one last time—deep and brutal—and he buries himself as a groan tears from his throat, thick, raw and possessive.

His cum floods into me as my body collapses beneath him. I feel completely braindead, yet so alive.

He grabs my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his, and his eyes are still wild and hungry.

“You crawl when I tell you to.”

He pauses.

“You come when I say.”

Then he leans in—lips brushing my cheek.

“And this pussy?” he murmurs, thrusting once. “This fucking pussy is mine now.”

He stays like that for a moment. Buried inside me. Breath ragged against my skin. And then, just as he pulls out, his lips brush my cheek again.

“Good girl.”

Fuck me, it almost sounds sweet. It shouldn’t sound like that. I didn’t realize I was such a whore for praise.