Page 56 of The Hellkeeper

I take her hard. I worship her with every thrust, every moan, every bite I leave behind. This is devotion. This is what we were made for. When she finally shatters beneath me, body convulsing, voice hoarse from screaming my name, I follow. Deep. So deep I swear I become a part of her.

I pull out slowly, fingers trailing down her stomach, slipping between her legs. She jerks in overstimulation.

"Oh, little flower," I croon, sliding two fingers inside her.

"You disobeyed me," I remind her as she squirms. "Did you think I’d let that slide?"

I curl them inside her, dragging against her sweet spot. She wails.

"Please... no. No more."

"No, no. You don’t get to beg yet."

I lower my mouth to her, tongue finding her swollen, overstimulated cunt. She pleads, says she can’t take anymore, and begs for a break.

I don’t budge.

Not until she breaks again.

And again.

And again.

She’s crying now. "Please," she sobs, "n-no more. I can’t."

"Oh, little flower," I murmur, “You’ll take whatever I give you... and you’ll love every second of it."

Chapter Nineteen

Amelia

My eyes open to the feel of strong arms wrapped around me. I close them again and allow myself to bask in it, to feel the safety, the security. Pure bliss—before the thoughts come. The calm before the storm.

I test his grip, but his arms tighten around me like steel bands.

"Where do you think you're going?" His morning voice is enough to melt any woman alive.

"Bathroom," I whisper.

A low grunt, then his arms loosen just enough for me to slip away. I move fast before he changes his mind.

I finish my business. Then, stand in front of the mirror. My fingers trace my skin. My body no longer feels like mine. I did it. I finally lost the last thing that could have tethered me to my old life.

I broke every rule. I am a sinner now.

But God, does sin feel good. Damien makes it feel like heaven. How can something meant to damn me feel like salvation? How is that fair? I tell myself I don’t believe in the things my village preaches. I tell myself I don’t believe in their God. That I am not religious. But does that stop the guilt? No. No matter how much I try, I can’t look at myself without seeing someone who is ruined.

Damien materializes behind me in the mirror, a dark shadow swallowing the light. For a long moment, we just stare. He, at me. I, at him.

I take the time to admire the differences I definitely felt last night. He is tall, so much taller than me. My head barely reaches his shoulder. While my skin is soft and smooth, his is scarred and tattooed. Where I am soft, he is nothing but muscle. Darkness and light. Predator and prey.

He kisses my shoulder. I let him touch me, own me, possess me with just a press of his lips.

I look down, and it’s as if I only now realize I’m naked. That shyness? That fear? It’s gone. It evaporated into the steam curling from the bath he’s drawing.

He turns the water off and holds out his hand. "Come."

I take it, and he leads me into the water. He sinks into the tub first, pulling me in after him until my back rests against his chest. I trace patterns on his damp skin, writing out all the things I feel inside.

---