Page 72 of His Trick

God, fuck me, yes.

I wanted him in a way that left nothing untouched, nothing spared. But part of me still wanted to fight, still tried to claw and wrestle back some of the control I no longer had.

He laughed low and cruel, the sound vibrating in my nuts. “You can beg all you want. You didn’t care when I did. Why should I care now? You’re breaking, so fucking close, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Do you understand? You’re going to fucking come in my mouth, Carrington. You are going to fill up my goddamn throat.”

“Yes…Shiloh…” I gasped, trying to pull away, trying to fight, but he followed, relentless. Every swirl of his damn tongue, each skillful press of his hands. He knew it was too much. He was driving me insane.

I felt everything—the burn, the ache, and the fucking humiliation. It was raw, an all-consuming lust that felt otherworldly.

“Mine,” he whispered in a deep growl, using his hand to finger my ass, anchoring me into the tile, while sucking the fucking soul from my body.

He was right. I never would.

“Oh, fuck…yes. Let me come. Oh god, please, Shiloh…let me fucking come. Please—oh fuuuck.”

His fingers slid deeper into my ass, using a mixture of the water and my pre-come as lube.

“Mmm…fuck yes. Come for me, Carrington. Now.”

I did.

My body convulsed as I filled his thick throat, pump after pump with my orgasm.

“Fuck! Yes…Oh my fucking god…yes. Baby, yes. I love this. I love?—”

Shiloh raised back up to me. His eyes looked dreamy, and the haze of my orgasm made me dizzy. His mouth found mine, and I gasped, returning his rough kiss.

Shiloh spit my orgasm into my mouth and slammed me back to the shower wall, placing a hand over my mouth, forcing me to taste myself. The salty splash of my own come drenched my tongue.

“You will swallow every fucking drop, Carrington. This is what I can do to you. Remember that next time you bring a fucking whore to take my place. You can’t. There’s only one me, Baby. You can try to replace me all you want, but no one can make you come like I can, because no one can make me come like you either.”

I struggled against his hold, but the weakness I felt had me defeated. I didn’t have a choice but to swallow. I let the bitter, salty flavor slide down my throat and cement every damn word out of his wicked mouth.

I watched, breathless, as he got out of the shower without another word.

He was right.

There is only one Shiloh Anderson.

And he will be the death of me.

The next morning, I woke up with a mission, my body practically vibrating from the unease of this stupid fucking choice. The drive the rest of the way to the prison was quiet.

It was the kind of quiet that pressed against my ears until my head rang, my heartbeat thudding like a fucking drum.

Silence filled the car because I couldn’t compete with the pounding. I didn’t know or care what Carrington had to say. Every time I tried to swallow, the knot grew larger. My tongue felt like it was made of sand, and the scratchy discomfort made the silence even more consuming.

Beside me, Carrington tapped the window, drawing stupid-ass smiley faces like the ones on the masks we wore the night of the hunt. That felt like so long ago, but as I watched the slowand steady motion of his finger, I realized that was the beginning of the end for me. It was like a ticking clock I couldn’t ignore anymore.

Tick tock. Times up, Shiloh.

“You don’t have to do this today,” he finally said, fogging up the window to create more designs. His voice was low, like he knew I was wound too tight to handle anything louder.

I can’t run anymore.

“Yes, I do. Don’t act like you fucking know me, okay? Finding a picture online of my fucked up life doesn’t mean you know a damn thing.” My words came out sharper than I intended, but even still, I didn’t take them back.

The fact that he pilfered one of the last pictures I took with my father was evil enough, but to choose the one by that fucking shed…