Page 61 of Loving the Tormentor

"W-Wait…" I panic, but there's still a hand in my hair.

"I won't hurt you," he reassures in that arrogant voice of his that offers no comfort whatsoever. "I'll just use you, take everything you have to offer, and dig for more."

His cock springs out from his boxers, and my entire body liquifies at his feet. It's a shame he's such an asshole, because his entire body is divine. I'd felt how big he was when he broke into my house, but it's something else to have it right in front of my face.

"I've been starving for something, Nyx. Anything that would make me feel and push me to create. I'm sorry it ended up being you. But you're going to do as you're told now, isn't that right? That way, your boyfriend will stay clueless about your betrayals."

"Please," I whisper one last time, my stomach contracting from anticipation.

"The next time you say please," he says, "it'll be with your mouth full of my cock. Now show me your tongue."

He isn't violent. On the contrary, Achilles takes his time when he tortures. He slides his cock slowly against my tongue, pushing until he hits the back of my throat. And when he does, he angles my head with the hand holding my hair. He pushesand pulls, in and out until I'm gagging around him, and then he goes farther. I choke when he presses down my throat.

"Look at me," he growls with pleasure.

I look up, eyes full of tears being forced out of me, horror and pleasure pulsing deep within me.

"There she is, all scared and hot for me. Beautiful."

My whimpers are blocked by his dick, forced to swallow them back.

"Now try again to say please."

I do, hoping it'll pacify him. Even with his dick deep in my throat, I try to formulate the word and watch as his eyes flutter shut.

My body trembles with desire, and I shift on my knees, sitting back on my heels to feel any sort of pressure on my clit.

He notices right away, a smirk breaking on his beautiful lips.

"Do you need me to take care of you?"

I try to shake my head, but he thrusts harder into my mouth.

"Don't lie, baby. It's already too late for you and your boyfriend anyway. You crossed the line a while ago."

Another hard push, and my hands come to wrap around his thighs. A mistake. They're strong, hard, and I want to bury myself against him. I want to feel all of him inside me, fucking me until I'm screaming his name.

"I won't force you," he says from his mighty position as he releases my hair. "The second you get desperate and want me to fuck that perfect cunt of yours, get on all fours."

I last less than a minute, too desperate to care anymore. I turn around, feeling the heat in my cheeks from embarrassment, and press my palms against the floor, looking back expectantly.

God, I hate that cocky smile. As if he can play me however he wants. As if I'll bend to his will whenever he asks, pray at his altar for whatever he promises to give me.

Or is it exactly what I'm doing?

I watch with stupid idolization as he unbuttons the black shirt he's wearing. For God's sake, why does he have that many abs? Why is his Adonis belt so defined? He's a trap for women, a walking wet dream who has no right being so ridiculously hot. He reaches for something in his jeans and pulls out a rubber before tearing the packet open. There’s something about a man rolling a condom on his dick. Something about Achilles’s fingers holding his hard cock. Maybe because I know what those fingers can do. Musically and to my body. He plays all his instruments with the same perfect dexterity, and that’s just what I am to him.

My head falls between my arms, groaning with frustration as he kneels behind me. I feel his dick at my wet entrance, and I'm about to push back when he disappears.

"Oh, Nyx." He laughs. "You didn't think I was going to make this easy on you, did you?"

"What are you doing?" I whimper.

"Getting exactly what I want out of you. For every fear of yours you share with me, I'll fuck you deeper and harder."

"What?" I choke. I try to turn around, but his hand is at the back of my neck, pushing me down until my cheek is pressed against the music sheets that fell off the stand earlier.

Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.