Page 13 of To Love a Monster (Oaths & Obsessions #1)

Lila

I don’t know if it’s the way he looks at me or the way he tells me to beg like it’s both a sentence and salvation. But I feel it snap inside me, that last thread of resistance. Of pride and pretending.

My lips part, breath trembling. My voice is barely a whisper, it’s just raw, shaky, and desperate.

I shift against the counter, breath shallow, and my chest heaving beneath. My eyes flutter open, glazed with arousal as I speak. “Please.”

That single word slices through the air like a spark hitting dry kindling. His eyes drag over me, my lips swollen from his kiss, body trembling and stretched out before him like an offering.

“Do you need it, little lamb?” he murmurs, voice low, rough, darkened by something feral. “You need me to touch you?”

I nod, eyes wide, helpless. “Yes. Fuck, yes, Nikolai. I need you. Now! ”

His hand slides down my stomach, deliberate and slow, until his palm cups me through my tights.

His thumb presses, just barely, against my clit and I can’t bite back the moan.

A ragged, desperate sound that betrays how close I am.

How wrecked I already feel as he leans in close, mouth at my ear.

“You’re dripping through your clothes for me, little lamb,” he growls.

“Fuck, you’re soaked .” My fingers clutch at his wrist, dragging his hand harder into me.

“More,” I breathe.

“Oh, you want more?” he teases, pressing just enough to make me gasp again, just enough to make my hips roll against his hand. Something wicked curls in the corner of his mouth.

“Now that’s more like it,” he says, voice roughened with approval. “See how pretty you sound when you stop pretending?”

In a blur of motion, he lifts me again, dragging me against his chest. His strength is effortless, arms locking around me like chains. He carries me to the bedroom, eyes fixed on mine the entire time like I’m the only thing anchoring him to this reality.

The room is dim, and thunder rumbles like a pulse beneath the floorboards.

He kicks the door shut with his foot and drops my ass onto the mattress. Then his voice sharpens, cutting through the dark like a blade.

“Kneel.”

My body obeys before my mind can catch up, dropping to the edge of the bed with my eyes wide, and my breath shallow. He stands in front of me, towering and dangerous.

And then he unzips his jeans. His cock springs free, thick and hard, the size of it enough to make my lips part in shock. I swallow, already dizzy with want.

Oh, God. My mouth goes dry, then wet. A flicker of heat blooms low in my stomach, wicked and sharp, the ache curling through me like smoke. I swallow hard, lips parting as I stare unblinking.

He’s thick and heavy in his fist, the kind of size that promises a stretch I’ll feel in my spine. The kind that would ruin me for anyone else. And something about that, about knowing I’m not built for this but still want it, makes my thighs clench.

My tongue darts out before I can stop it, running around my bottom lip as I fight to act on pure instinct, desperate to taste.

To please. I imagine him inside me, pushing slow at first, making me take every inch.

The burn. The fullness. The moment where pain meets pleasure and becomes something unimaginable.

My hips shift, unconsciously seeking friction and he sees it. Smirking like he knows he’s already inside my thoughts. Like he knows exactly what I’m imagining. And he does.

“Open your mouth,” he growls, his hand fisting in my hair. “You want to please me, don’t you, baby?” I nod, lips parting as I lean forward, eager, reverent.

I look up as my fingers wrap around the base of him, my touch light and trembling with anticipation. He groans low and rough, like the sound’s been ripped from his chest.

“Fuck, just look at you,” he growls, hand tangling hard in my hair as I take the tip of him into my mouth. I look up at him through my lashes and I stroke him once. Twice. Just enough to feel the weight of him throb against my palm. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re on your knees for me.”

My heart pounds and my lips part a little more to take more of him in. He’s hot, smooth, and heavy on my tongue. I can’t help but moan as I take in the taste of him.

He hisses through his teeth, his grip in my hair loosening and tightening in pulses as my mouth stretches wider, sliding down him slowly until my throat flutters around the length of him.

“Ah, fuck , Lila,” he curses, voice gone hoarse.

“That mouth is made for this. For me .” My cheeks hollow as I suck harder, finding a rhythm, eyes still locked to his and he watches me with that feral, starved intensity, like I’m the only thing in the world that exists.

His thumb brushes over my jaw, then down my cheek, smearing the wet slick of spit and want across my flushed skin.

“You like this, don’t you?” he breathes, hips giving a slow thrust as I gag softly, then adjust to take him deeper. “You like choking on me, baby?” I moan around him, desperate and needy. And the vibration makes his whole body jerk.

He lets out a brutal sound, half growl, half praise, and tugs my hair back just enough to see the spit glistening at the corners of my lips, the wet heat of my mouth gloves around him like a promise. His thrusts grow more demanding, hand tightening even harder in my hair.

“Touch yourself,” he commands, eyes burning into mine. My lips are swollen, my breath ragged as I pull back from him, eyes glossy and wild.

He doesn’t let go of my hair. Just tugs gently now, forcing my gaze to lock with his again. “Now,” he commands, voice like smoke and steel, “show me how fucking desperate you are to come for me, baby.”

My hand trembles slightly as it slips between my thighs, still clothed in soaked fabric. I draw slow circles over my clit, my breath hitching at the contact. Nikolai doesn’t move, he just watches, his dark eyes fixed on me like I’m the most sinful thing he’s ever seen.

My fingers press harder and I decide to slip beneath the waistband of my tights. Skin to skin on wet heat. I gasp as I touch myself and spread my thighs wider, opening for him, offering him a front-row seat to my unraveling.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked. “Let me see how you fall apart.”

I moan, soft at first. Then louder as the rhythm builds, friction slick and fast. My hips buck into my hand and my breath shatters. Every nerve is alight, every drag of my fingers a flame.

My other hand grips him tighter, pumping the length of him as I get close. So close. And still, he doesn’t let me look away as I continue to moan.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he growls. “Is this what you want, little lamb? To come for me? To show me how wet you are while I stand here and own every second of your need?”

I nod and whimper, broken and desperate. He pulls away, leaving me gasping.

“You gonna come with my name on your lips?” he whispers, crouching just enough to graze his knuckles along my cheek. “Or do I need to stop you?”

My body jerks at his touch, right at the edge.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers in a low voice as my back arches and my breath catches.

I’m so close I can almost taste it, I feel the heat flooding my spine, curling my toes, ready to break as my eyes roll back. But before the wave can crash, his hand shoots out, gripping my wrist like iron.

“Ah, ah,” he growls, voice like gravel dragging across my nerves. “Not yet.” I gasp, trembling, my body screaming for release.

“Nikolai, please—” It’s barely a whisper, more like a broken ache. But he’s already dragging my hand away from my soaked center. He lifts me up and throws me onto the mattress, pinning my hands above my head.

My thighs twitch and my breath shudders as his mouth lowers, his lips brushing my ear as his other hand slides down, slow and cruel. It hovers just above my clit and I buck, desperately trying to chase friction. But he pulls away again.

“No,” he growls. “Not yet.”

“These fucking tights,” he snarls. “They need to go.” He rips them down my legs, tossing them across the room before his palms drag up my bare thighs possessively.

His mouth claims mine first, a hungry, all-consuming kiss that steals the breath right from my lungs. His tongue slides deep, tasting me like I’m his first sip of water after a week in hell.

I moan into his mouth, hips shifting instinctively, but he holds me down again with one hand at my waist, anchoring me to the bed.

When he finally pulls away, it’s only to drag his lips down the line of my jaw, to the hollow of my throat.

Each kiss is rougher than the last, his teeth grazing, tongue soothing, lips marking a trail of heat across my skin.

Down my collarbone. My sternum. He pauses at the center of my chest and I’m breathing hard. Then he kisses between my breasts, slow, deliberate. Not just tasting. Worshipping. And then he moves lower.

His tongue dances over the curve of my ribcage, across the trembling skin of my stomach, each press of his mouth making my core clench in anticipation. I can feel his breath when he speaks again, low and gravelly.

“You’re so wet for me,” he mutters, breath hot against my skin. I arch up, desperate for his mouth. But he doesn’t move faster. He takes his time. Like he wants to drive me mad before he ever lets me come.

I gasp, sharp and involuntary, as his mouth finds me and the first flick of his tongue steals the air straight from my lungs. Slow and deep. Like he wants to savor me.

My fingers claw at the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto. Every breath is a shiver. Every stroke of his tongue is a descent into something I won’t come back from.

He groans against me, and the sound vibrates through my core, turning my bones to liquid.

I can feel him breathe me in and then he adds his fingers.

Thrusting slow at first, then deeper, harder, his mouth and hand moving in a rhythm that has me trembling against his shoulders, lips parting around a moan I can’t contain.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. He speeds up, sucks harder and his tongue flicks cruelly, perfectly against that swollen, aching spot that has me writhing beneath him helplessly to a point where I don’t even recognize the sounds I’m making. They’re raw. Guttural.

I’m panting, gasping, grabbing at his hair like I need something to anchor me before I come apart completely.

“Please,” I whimper, though I don’t even know what I’m begging for anymore. Release, mercy, more. All of it. My vision blurs and my thighs shake. That tight, impossible coil inside me is seconds from snapping and he doesn’t let up.

The pressure inside me coils tighter, becoming sharp, exquisite, unbearable. He drags me closer to the edge I can’t come back from and he knows it. But he doesn’t stop. He won’t. Not until I’m sobbing his name and shaking so hard I can’t breathe.

“You’re so close, Lila” he growls against me, voice muffled but sharp as a blade. “I can feel your pussy tightening around me.” I whimper, the sound wrecked, helpless. My hands are in his hair, pulling. I can’t think, can’t exist beyond this moment, this heat, this hunger.

“You gonna come for me, little lamb?” he rasps, his fingers thrusting deeper, curling hard against the spot that makes my vision go white. “You gonna come all over my fucking face like a good girl?” I choke on a moan, hips lifting off the bed, chasing that high like it’s salvation.

“You don’t come for anyone else,” he snarls. “Only me. Say it.”

“Y-you,” I gasp, head thrown back. “Only you, Nikolai—”

“That’s right,” he growls, tongue flattening against me as his fingers slam inside with punishing rhythm.

“You’re mine .” And that’s it. I shatter.

The climax hits like lightning, hot, violent, searing through every nerve until I’m screaming, thrashing, every muscle pulled tight before breaking apart into something wild and feral.

And he doesn’t stop. He devours it, licking me through every wave, every twitch until I’m nothing but a gasping mess spread out on the bed.

The world tilts and rights itself as he slowly rises from between my legs. His chest heaves with every breath, the faintest trace of my body still glistening on his lips. And yet, the wildness in his eyes has softened. Just slightly. Just enough.

He slides into the space beside me, slow, careful, like he’s not sure I’ll let him stay. But I do. I don’t even hesitate. Because my body is still humming with the aftermath of him. Because my soul, whatever’s left of it, has already curled toward him like a flame seeking more oxygen.

His arms go around me. Warm and solid, caging me in without making me feel trapped. He pulls me to his chest like he needs me there. Like without the weight of me against his ribs, he might fall apart. I feel his breath on the crown of my head. Rough and shaky. Still settling.

And then his voice breaks the quiet. Low. Gravel-rough. Almost reverent. “How did that feel, little lamb?” I want to answer, but the words get stuck in my throat. So I just nod against his chest, my cheek pressed to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice brushing the edge of a command. I lift my head, eyes meeting his. Still hazy, still drowning. “I’ve never felt anything like it,” I whisper. “Not even close.” His jaw flexes. His hand curves around the back of my neck, thumb brushing the damp hair stuck to my skin.

“Good,” he says. “Because that’s just a taste of what I have planned for you.” His voice is rough, yet when he kisses me next, it’s not hard.

It’s soft and slow. A contrast so sharp, it steals the air from my lungs. His lips linger. This time, it’s not demanding, not devouring. Just ... claiming in a different way. A quieter one. Like this, too, is something he doesn’t want to lose.

I kiss him back. Because I know I’ve just surrendered to him in every way imaginable.

And if that makes me broken, if that means I’ve stepped off the cliff into madness, then I hope I never crawl my way back to sanity. Because being here, wrapped in his arms, heart still pounding from his mouth on my body? It feels like the only truth I’ve ever known.