Page 21 of To Die For

“Fuck, she’s tight,” he grunts, his controlled composure cracking for a second to reveal the raw hunger beneath. “Like a fucking fist.Squeezingme.”

He pulls back slightly, then pushes forward again, gaining another inch. The pain is still there, a sharp ring of fire, but underneath it… a deep, shocking fullness. A sense of being opened up and claimed in a way I never imagined.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his breath hot on my neck. “Take it. Take all of me. Your ass is mine now, Lila. This tight, virgin hole belongs to my cock.”

He finally buries himself to the hilt, his hips pressed flush against my burning flesh. He stays there, letting me feel the overwhelming fullness, the brutal stretch.

Then he moves.

His thrusts are nothing like White Mask’s. They’re not wild and pounding. They’re… precise. Calculated. Each stroke is a long, slow, deliberate drag out until just the tip remains, followed by a deep, penetrating push back in.

And my body is betraying me all over again. The sharp pain is melting, transforming into a deep, aching pleasure that radiates out from my core with every thrust. The head of his cock brushes against something deep inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. A guttural moan is ripped from my throat.

“You feel that, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice thick with a satisfaction that terrifies me. “Your body knows who it belongs to. It doesn’t matter what you think you want. This ass was made for my cock.”

His rhythm becomes punishing, each thrust hitting that breathtaking spot with unerring accuracy. The pleasure is unbearable, a coil tightening low in my belly. White Mask is still holding my wrists, and I can hear his ragged breathing, can feel his own arousal in his grip. Burlap Sack is groaning, his thumbs rubbing circles on my sore ass as he watches Black Mask disappear inside me.

“I’m gonna come in this perfect ass, Lila,” Black Mask grunts, his thrusts becoming sharper, less controlled. “I’m gonna fill youup. Mark you on the inside where no one else can see. You’ll feel me in you for days.”

His words are the final push. The coil snaps, and my orgasm crashes over me with the force of a tidal wave.

My ass clenches around his invading length, milking him, and I scream, my voice breaking as convulsions wrack my entire body.

The feeling of me spasming around him drags a ragged shout from his throat. He slams into me one last time, grinding deep, and I feel the hot, pulsing rush of his release flooding my depths. He holds himself there, his body shuddering against mine, as he paints my insides with his cum.

He collapses over me, his weight pressing me into the wall. I can feel his heart hammering against my back. We are both panting, dripping with sweat, joined in the most intimate and degrading way possible.

He finally pulls out, and a shaky groan escapes me at the sudden, empty sensation.

I feel so open, so used.

Black Mask straightens up, tucking himself back into his jeans with a quiet click of his zipper. He places a hand on the small of my back, a strangely possessive gesture.

“Now,” he says, his voice once again a calm, controlled murmur, though I can hear the edge of satiated lust in it. “Shall we see how many times we can make you come before you break?”

CHAPTER 14

LILA

They don’t carry me so much as they guide me, a silent, stumbling procession through a hidden door in the maze’s base that I never would have seen.

Rough hands steer me down a narrow, earthen stairwell, the air cooling and thickening with the scent of damp soil and cold stone. A single, bare bulb hanging from a wire casts a sickly yellow light over a small, rectangular chamber.

In the center is a stone table. It’s ancient-looking, cold, and unyielding.

“On your back,” Black Mask commands, his voice echoing softly against the packed dirt walls.

My legs are weak, my body still humming from the brutal claiming against the shed, but I don’t resist.

The cold of the stone seeps into my skin the moment my back touches it, a shocking contrast to the heat blooming inside me. It’s a slab for a sacrifice.

Burlap Sack produces thick leather cuffs from a shadowy corner. He doesn’t speak, just straps my right wrist down, the leather biting into my skin.

White Mask takes my left, his touch almost clinical, buckling me in. The cold metal of the buckles is a promise I can’t break. They move to my ankles, spread my legs, and secure them to the table legs.

I am stretched out, utterly exposed,completely theirs.

The fear is a thin, sharp wire in my chest, but the arousal is a roaring fire beneath it, fed by the sheer obscenity of my position.