Page 106 of The Oath We Give

“Keep begging, baby,” I hum. “I like hearing you beg for me.”

“I need to come,” she pleads with me, sweat trickling between her breasts, unable to gather a full, deep breath. “It hurts—God, it hurts, please.”

“Here?” I offer, my tongue coming to lap over her throbbing clit. She moans with a jolt, chasing my tongue. “Is this pussy aching right here?”

My mouth caresses her core again and again, lapping at it, playing with it.

“Yes, Silas. Right there, right there.”

Fire courses through my veins as my hips thrust into my fist erratically, losing rhythm. My labored breaths mix with Coraline’s as I hum between her thighs.

“I’m so close, please don’t stop.” There are tears in the back of her eyes. God, the thought of her pretty face coated in tears because she needs to come makes my hips falter.

I suck her clit into my mouth, rolling my tongue around the bud before shoving the barrel of my gun into her wet hole, forcing her walls to stretch around it, sending her spiraling over the edge and into an ocean of euphoria.

Coraline’s eyes slam shut, her back arches, and the screams of her pleasure pierce and echo around my office. The force of her orgasm leaves her shaking, her pussy contracting in tiny spasms around the metal wedged inside of her.

When her nails dig holes into my shoulder, I aimlessly rut into my hand. That inevitable climax in the pit of my stomach explodes.

“Coraline. F-Fuck, baby,” I groan as I finally reach my release. The pressure in me finally snaps as thick ropes of cum paint my fingers, covering her silk panties.

White-hot bliss courses through me, tongue unable to help but clean up the juices leaking from her as I shake with the aftershocks of my release. The salty yet sweet taste of her arousal coats my chin as I pull my head back. She falls back onto the desk, palms resting behind her to keep her upright.

She’s beat. Tired and blissed-out.

If she only knew this is only the start of where I want her before I fuck her. As if my cock agrees, it twitches, hardening as I stand up. When I step between her thighs, she blinks up at me, still trying to get her breathing under control.

I grip the back of her neck, stitching our mouths together. She moans, sucking my tongue into her mouth to drink down the taste of her cum. I’ve barely scratched the surface of how deeply I wanted to burrow inside of her.

She has me, and she doesn’t even realize it, so consumed with trying to keep me at bay that she doesn’t know I want her pain. I want her screaming hurt and aching rage. That person she hides from the world, the one she fears in the mirror.

I want her.

And I don’t know what that means for me, for us. I’ve never been one to think clearly when something I want is on the horizon.

“Open,” I command against her mouth, watching as her eyebrows furrow in confusion, but her jaw lowers, pink lips parting for me.

I hold her face in my hand before shoving the silk panties into her mouth. My cum stains the fabric, some still dripping from the lace edges.

There is a desire in my gut that’s been pooling there since the moment I laid eyes on Coraline. It’s a violent fire that staggers and groans, writhes beneath the earth like it does beneath my skin. It’s completely unexpected and overwhelming, like it can’t get enough of itself. It bleeds and spreads from contact.

It’s the death of the sun, replaced by the flecks of gold in her eyes.

“You’re my wife, CoralineHawthorne. If I want to cover myself in the blood of a thousand more men to protect you, I will,” I tell her. “They cannot hurt you without having to answer to me.”

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TWENTY-FIVE

OUR FOURTH

CORALINE

No one talksabout how powerful hands are.

Not the innate strength they can exude but the feeling they can provide when attached to the correct person.

Some hands can simply exist and evoke emotion.