Page 376 of Phobia

Strong hands flipped me over onto my belly, my face planted in the dirt. “On y’er forearms and knees, little songbird. Show me that ass.”

Dazed and confused, I stumbled onto my knees and perched my weight on my forearms like he’d demanded.

“Knees wider,” he growled.

I did my best to part my spent legs. My ass was on full display for him as my face hovered inches above the ground like I was preparing for some sort of primal ritual.

In a flash, his mouth was on my slit and his tongue was inside, just as the bottle had been. With violent fervor, he delved into me and his hands gripped my hips, forcefully rocking my ass into his face.

“Oh, God.”The sensations. It all felt like heaven fused with hell. My tits bounced as he ate me, plundering my most sensitive folds over and over again like I was his filthy whore.

This position felt so much more intense than the last, and I could feel him deeper. He was like a wild beast devouring his first hunt after a long fast.

Harsh fingers palmed my ass cheeks, pulling them apart and exposing every last bit of me to the night air.

Unexpectedly, the tip of his tongue traced a line upward to my hole, the one that I had never imagined anything would breech. Wetness swirled around my puckered flesh, nerve endings firing all at once in a cacophony of pleasure—pleasure I couldn’t have dreamed would feel so good in that area. My moans had transformed into rutting cries loud enough to disturb the silence of the dead at the bottom of the hill below us.

Through my primal fog, I heard the sound of fabric rumpling behind me. And then all went still. His hands were no longer on me, and his tongue slipped away, leaving me hanging on a thread that was no longer tugging me toward the finish line.

My ears picked up the sound of wet suction of some sort. Repetitive sticky sounds. Then his fingers snaked across my hip, down my belly, until they met my clit once again. They rubbed my ache swiftly and smoothly. The sensation almost distracted me from the protrusion tapping at my slit. The firm yet slippery sensation moved in a rhythm that was fast, like the strumming of an instrument. I was ready to be played.

The rate of the beating, from what I assumed was his length, sped up and the motions became more erratic. I could feel the slick end of it broach my swollen crevice, teasing me into yearning for more of it inside. I pushed back into his touch, hoping to impale myself, but it earned me a stinging slap.

“Behave,” he warned.

“I need more,” I panted out, my cheek firmly pressed into the dirt. The iron smell burned my nostrils. My arms were shaking so hard that they threatened to give out.

“Trust the process, baby girl,” he gritted out, his own voice straining like mine. His fingers curled, rubbing me off faster.

The tidal wave inside of me rose higher and higher until it suddenly came crashing down and my body rippled with ecstasy. I screamed his name, and even I couldn’t recognize my own voice when it pierced my ears.

Bastien followed me into the sea, exploding with rumbling grunts and then a deafening howl, announcing to the entire underworld his release. Jets of liquid squirted onto my asshole, dripping down my sensitive pussy lips and thighs.

My lungs worked overtime to recover all the air they had lost during my orgasm and my arms finally gave out. Bastien caught me, wrapping his arm around my lower belly to prevent me from tumbling over. We were both a sweaty and juicy mess.

With his free hand, he used his fingers to smear his cum around my folds. I squirmed because of how sensitive everything felt down there. Then, his fingers pushed forcefully into my leaking slit, depositing his arousal deep inside of me. I cried out from the pleasureful pain.

His huge torso leaned over me, sticking to my sweaty lower back below the nightgown that was still draped over my top half. He pressed a soft kiss behind my ear lobe. “Next time, I’ll show yeh how to take my cock in that pretty mouth,” he whispered. And my lips that would willingly perform his vulgar desire quirked up into an eager smile.

Chapter 5

“Rosalie, I need your help to set the table!”

I groaned into the pages of my book as Maman clanked around on the other side of the door. I hated setting the table because it meant that dinner was fast approaching, and I’d have to sit in my chair waiting on eggshells to see what type of mood Papa was in. It was the only meal that we ate together as a family. Papa left for work early most days, so I rarely made the effort to join him and Maman for breakfast. Lunch was with Maman or sometimes by myself if she needed to run errands and I had been successful in fussing to get out of them.

However, I was forced to eat the last meal of the day with my family, which wouldn’t have been terrible if one of them weren’t a raging alcoholic.

“Rosalie! I need you!” Maman’s voice had risen two levels louder, indicating that she was only one level away from storming into my room and dragging me by the ear. I was seventeen, but the elder Légarés still treated me like I was twelve.

“Coming, Maman.” I released a heavy sigh and pushed off my belly from the wood floor. My body seized and my vagina clenched from soreness. I sat with my knees up and my feet on the ground until the ache subsided enough for me to move again.

I had lost my virginity to a rum bottle and had the pain to prove it. It all sounded weird when you spelled it out, and to be honest, it had seemed weird right before it happened. But once the sleek glass had penetrated my slit, all logic had left my mind. I had been about as opinionated as a ball of clay just begging to be molded.

I’d soon realized that boundaries or decorum didn’t seem to matter to Bastien. He’d warned me that he wasn’t a gentleman, and he hadn’t been kidding. And truth be told, Ifuckingloved it.

I hugged my knees to my chest and giggled. Curse words weren’t foreign to my ears. They flew like wasps when Papa was on a tirade. Sophie and Clarisse peppered conversation with them whenever their parents weren’t within earshot. And Bastien always had a mouthful of them ready to spit out, but I had never been big on cursing. Not until Bastien had made me beg him to fuck my pussy. I supposed thatfuckwas now part of my ever-growing dictionary of vulgar words, along withpussy,cock,andcum.

Bastien hadn’t torn my hymen when he’d fucked me with the bottle, despite his best wishes. I hadn’t seen any blood afterward when I’d rushed home and doused my nightgown with scented oils so Maman wouldn’t smell the cum—mine and Bastien’s—that had drenched the fabric.