Page 57 of Terror Tuesday

What if I long for things that are bad for me because Reggie messed my brain up so bad, I think I deserve it?

Vanq leans forward with anticipation, and I make a decision that I know will change my life… I feel that creature I’ve become ripping her way out of my skin and letting the darkness creep in.

Keeping my eyes on my stalker’s mask, I slowly kneel in front of him and bow my head.

And I let her escape.

sixteen

“Very good,my Monarch. Submitting before yourtruemaster.”

She doesn’t realize it yet, but she’s just sacrificed one of her most sacred beliefs—that the society rules over us all.

They don’t own the girl on her knees. Not anymore.

The first thing I truly wanted is bowed before me with reverence, and my cock is stiffer than it’s ever been. Harder than the night I first tasted her. When she came on my tongue, trembling like a sinner in revival.

With two deliberate fingers, I lift her chin, forcing those wide, conflicted eyes onto mine. “Look at my face while you undo my belt.”

She hesitates for the briefest second, vulnerability flickering in her gaze, but obediently raises her trembling fingers. The rasp of my zipper sliding down echoes obscenely in the chamber. My dick jumps in anticipation.

“This time, queen, you do it because you want it,” I murmur, voice rough with desire as she slips my boxer briefs lower. Mycock springs free, pulsing eagerly toward her parted lips, but I grip the base firmly, holding it just beyond reach. “Do you?”

Her gaze climbs my body, filled with lust and awe, until her eyes meet my mask. A breath shivers out in a desperate whisper as she answers, “Yes.”

“Then I’m going to use your throat for my pleasure.”

The moment her plush lower lip opens wider, I thrust into her heated mouth, savoring the immediate slick warmth. My head falls back, memorizing every exquisite sensation as her tongue swirls, teases, worships. Her palms clutch my ass cheeks instinctively, urging me to get closer.

But I know her deepest fantasies intimately—every twisted, secret desire she penned in her diaries.

“Ah, ah…” I say, gripping the back of her neck, but still letting my thumb rub her scalp. “You don’t get to take control, not when your mind’s a war zone.”

My tone sharpens, low and possessive. “I’m taking over now. You want quiet? Then obey me.”

She pulls back, a question on her face. With my free hand, I grip her jaw, tilting her head slightly. “Hands behind you, Monarch. Show me you want peace.”

Tears well at the corners of her eyes as she struggles to comply, but she follows the order without protest. I plunge in fully, stabbing her throat, relishing her strangled moans. I withdraw only long enough to watch her gasp desperately for air before grasping her neck and controlling her completely. “Beg me to breathe.”

She sputters, her muffled cries vibrating deliciously around my cock. I release her for one ragged inhale before driving myself back into the tight, hot grip of her throat. “On this altar of the forgotten, you’re choosing a new system. They let you choke onsilence. But I’ll teach you how to breathe through surrender.”

My knees weaken, spine arching as pleasure threatens to unravel me. Pulling back swiftly, I pinch off the throbbing crown to prevent my impending release as she coughs, gasps for a breath, cheeks flushed.

“Worship your new god.” My voice is lethal as I slap the tip against her panting tongue. “Say it while I fuck the faith out of you.”

Gagging softly, she moans around me. “I worship it.”

“You worshipme,” I snarl, gripping the crown of her head. “And you’ll never pray to anyone else again.”

Seizing a handful of her hair, I tilt her face back sharply, slipping myself into her mouth again, watching the fire ignite in her glare. She’s caught in that exquisite struggle between shame and desire—torn between the degradation she secretly craves and the pride she desperately clings to. I watch as her hands rise again, caressing my ass, seeking control.

This time, I allow it, noticing how her thighs shift restlessly beneath her, friction building as she kneels submissively before me.

“Going to come from having my cock down your throat? That’s the kind of perfect sinner you really are, isn’t it?” My words drip with dark approval.

She writhes helplessly, doling out an affirmative whimper, hips grinding against the air, lost completely in the overwhelming sensations. The sight pushes me closer to the edge, her enthusiastic worship driving me to madness.

“My devout little slut,” I breathe out huskily, wrecked with control I’m barely holding. “Getting off just from pleasuring my cock… Now swallow every drop—like a girl born to kneel.”