Page 22 of His to Ruin

He flinches. But it does him no good when the cock beneath his denim jeans is already swollen with need.

It’s fucking beautiful how easy it is. How quickly his body betrays him the moment I’m near. I press my palm against the bulge, holding him there. “I missed you,” I breathe against him. “I missed the way you taste when you’re scared.”

He shudders. Trying to say something, but it never makes it out. Just a strangled little breath as I tug down his zipper and slide his cock free from its denim prison.

I curl my fingers around him and give him a slow stroke. A low growl purrs out of me. I kiss the tip and my lips part in a smile I know he can feel. Then my tongue flicks the slit, teasing the first drop of salt from him.

Christian gasps. A choked, panicked sound. “You … you shouldn’t be here,” he manages, breathless. His voice shakes, but his hips twitch, begging for me.

I glance up at him with half-lidded eyes. My tongue circles his head slowly, savoring the taste. “But I am,” I whisper as my mouth gently brushes against his crown. “And you’re going to come for me anyway.”

Then I take him into my mouth, sinking down slowly, relishing in the way he stretches me open. The way he shakes as I hollow my cheeks and pull him deeper. I don’t stop as his moans grow louder and his head drops back. His fingers curl into the couch cushions like he’s trying not to lose himself. But it’s too late. He’s already gone.

I suck him down harder, dragging my tongue along every inch, devouring every sound he makes. I own his pleasure. I am his pleasure.

To him, this may all seem like a dream.

But I’m the one who built it.

He throbs against my tongue, every desperate pulse of his cock tells me how close he is to the edge.

Before I let him spill onto my tongue, I drag myself back. He slips from my lips with a lewd, wet pop. Christianwhimpers at the sudden loss of heat, wordlessly begging. I wipe a smear of saliva and precum from my mouth with the back of my hand then look up at him. His face is flushed, pupils blown wide. There’s a beautiful confusion in his eyes. He was so near his release, and I took it from him.

“Did you really think I’d let you come so soon?” I trail one clawed fingertip up the sensitive underside of his still-hard length and he jerks, sucking in a breath. The tip of my nail grazes the tender head. “Poor thing … you were so close, weren’t you?”

Christian bites his lips, not wanting to meet my eyes, too ashamed of his need. It’s fucking beautiful.

“Answer me.” I squeeze his balls, a stream of precum spills from the tip, causing him to moan. “You thought I’d let you finish?”

“I-I don’t…” He struggles for words, swallowing hard. “Please…”

“Please, what?” I cock my head and widen my grin. “Use your words, Little Nightmare. What. Do. You. Want?”

His mouth opens and closes; his cheeks burn a shameful shade of red. We both know what he wants, but I want to hear him say it. I want him to admit what he needs out loud.

Christian’s throat bobs, then finally and so quietly, he admits, “I … want…” The rest barely makes it past his lips. “You.”

I hum in approval. “Good boy. But you’ll have to be more specific than that.” My hand pumps him once from base to tip, squeezing just enough to make his breath hitch. “What do you want me to do?” I give his cock another languid stroke, rolling my thumb over the wet slit, and he nearly sobs.

“I want … I want you to f-fuck me,” he stammers. “Please … please. I need it.”

A triumphant heat flares in my chest at his surrender. “There,now,” I croon. “Was that so hard?” I release him and stand, towering over where he sprawls on the couch. He blinks up at me, still panting. His glaze flicks downward just for an instant as he finally sees me in full. His eyes go wide at the sight of my erection, straight and thick against my lower abdomen.

I’m larger than any human man. Every inch of me is carved in the image of desire and fear. My cock juts out rigid and proud. A bead of precum leaks from the tip, dripping viscously toward the floor. His gaze follows that droplet as it falls, and a half-choked noise slips from his throat.

I bare my teeth in a slow smile, amused by the flicker of fear that dances over his features. “Don’t worry. You can take it.”

In one fluid motion, I haul him up from his slumped position. He’s light in my grasp—a rag doll in the hands of a monster. With a careless flick of my wrist, I rip what remains of his unbuttoned jeans down his thighs, tearing the fabric as if it were wet paper. His shoes and boxers vanish somewhere behind me with the shredded denim. Christian yelps softly at the sudden rough handling, instinctively grabbing at my forearms.

I push him back onto the couch, guiding him until he’s lying down where he sat moments ago. I grasp his thighs and bend them toward his chest, effortlessly folding him in half. I spread his knees apart, exposing him completely. His shirt is still on—bunched up at his armpits—so I tear that off too for good measure. I render all clothes from his body and bare every last inch of his flushed, quivering form to me.

Christian tries to close his legs, but I tighten my grip on the backs of his thighs, keeping him spread open. I drink in the sight hungrily.

“Beautiful.”

He truly is. Chest heaving, cock still hard and dripping against his belly. A flush burns high on his cheekbones, and beneath the embarrassment or the lingering fear, I see raw desire.

My eyes drop lower to the tight, puckered opening nestled between the soft curves of his ass. I lick my lips, my appetite surging. My shadows coil in the air behind me with excitement. I hadn’t bothered to manifest them fully until now, but the anticipation of what I’m about to do brings out every demonic instinct.