Page 41 of Raziel

I couldn’t answer. She had me strung out on her body, and she knew it.

Her grip tightened. My eyes flew open, locking onto her—angelic and wicked, backlit by the lamp like sin dipped in gold. Hair stuck to her damp shoulders, skin flushed, lips parted around panting breaths.

I was shaking. Every muscle locked, every inhale shallow. I tried to breathe through my nose.

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” She ground down slow, dragging that slick, tight heat over every inch of me.

God, yes. My throat convulsed under her grip. I blinked hard, vision swimming, but she didn’t stop—just rolled her hips, clenching around me like she wanted to wring the last shred of sanity from my body.

“You want to cum so bad,” she murmured, “but you can’t. Not until I say so.”

I trembled, desperate, balanced on the knife’s edge—but I wouldn’t fall until she let me.

Then maliciously, she stopped. Hopped off.

Cold air slapped my dick. I gasped, hands fisting in the sheets, knuckles turning bone-white.

“Maya—” My voice was wrecked.

Aching. Empty. I was gasping, lungs burning, while she stared down at me like the devil herself.

What the fuck was she planning?

She settled between my legs, her hand wrapping around me. The slide of her palm up and down my shaft was agony—slow, teasing, just enough pressure to keep me trembling.

My hips jerked into her grip. Her thumb swiped over the head, smearing precum, and I groaned, the sound raw and animalistic.

“You want to cum, Raziel?” Her voice was filthier than sin. “Want to paint my throat with it?”

“Fuck yes—” It came out in a growl.

Her strokes turned ruthless—hard, fast, perfect. My back arched, toes curling, every muscle locking as pleasure detonated up my spine.

I came with a shout, stripes of cum splashing across her fingers, my stomach, the sheets. Before I could recover, her lips sealed around me nastily, sucking out every last drop, moaning like I was her favorite fucking dessert. She didn’t stop until I was twitching, oversensitive, half-convinced she’d kill me like this.

When she pulled off, her mouth was swollen, glistening—and she looked viciously pleased with herself.

Then she climbed back onto me, thighs shaking, breath ragged. Her pussy hovered over my dick, dripping, achingly wet.

“Ready for round two, Raziel?” Her voice was breathless but wild.

She didn’t wait for an answer.

She sank down in one slow, brutal slide, swallowing me whole. I groaned, my body wound tight as a spring, every nerve alight.

“God, you feel good,” she gasped, hands braced on my chest.

I was sensitive—too fucking sensitive—but she rode me harder, faster than before, her moans pitching higher as she chased her own release. The sound tangled with the slap of skin and the wet, slick slide of her taking me deeper. I felt her clench around me, dragging me with her to the edge.

She leaned down, lips brushing my ear.

“Cum for me, Raziel. Cum inside me.”

And I did.

With a groan ripped from my chest, I emptied into her, holding her hips down as my whole body convulsed. I gave her everything.

After, we lay tangled—sweat-slick, wrecked.