Page 42 of Devilish Prince

There’s something about the way he takes what he wants from me that pushes me to the edge and has me dangling there begging for him to ravish me. I can feel my pussy tighten around him, gripping and pulling, trying to make him come, even though he won’t. He’s not going to let himself find release until he’s ready, until he’s done with me, and I can’t control myself.

“Please,” I whisper, turning my head until my cheek is pressed against the couch. I stare at the woman again, and she’s looking at me with such a strange expression. She's afraid, but I don’t think she knows what she’s watching. I don’t know myself, what this little game is that he's playing, why he dominates me like this and wants her to watch.

“Please, what?” Lorenzo says, sounding amused.

“Please make me come,” I beg, knowing I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t give him exactly what he wants. But I can’t help myself. He fucks me harder. His cock jams into me, like he’s trying to wedge himself inside me. He’s pushing and pulling, holding my hips so tight he'll leave bruises. My pussy screams in pain with each thrust, but it's addictive. I need him to make me come.

The wedding planner watches in horror as I whimper and plead, and the hard smack of Lorenzo's hand on my ass makes her jump with fright. Lord forces her to watch still, even as she takes a step back into him. He's a brick wall, unmoving as Lorenzo drives into me. I cry out, the noise so ghastly it scares me too.

"Who owns you, Sofia?" he growls and I whimper.

"You own me," I whisper.

"Tell her," he orders.

I turn my head, watching the wedding planner as I moan, "He owns me." I try to keep my tone even, but there is too much pleasure flooding my body. His cock is making me raw inside and out.

"Good girl," he purrs and I feel him swell inside me.

"Please, please, please," I beg, trying to reach my orgasm.

"Tell her you're my fuck toy." He pounds harder, shaking the whole couch. "Tell her you deserve this."

I cry out, feeling like I'm going to come apart at the seams. "I'm your fuck toy," I whine.

"Tell her!" His anger unleashes on me with another hard smack to my ass.

"Fuck!" I yelp. The way he thrusts is so demanding, my tits are crushed between my weight and the back of the couch.

"I'm his fuck toy. I deserve this." Pain seeps into my tone which only seems to make his movements more aggressive.

I let go of the couch with one hand and reach beneath my body as I feel his hands wrap around my throat. His fingers dig in and make my pulse feel like it's shooting into my brain. I ride the wave, letting him have his way, knowing I can't speak anymore. But I keep my eyes open, watching the woman watching us. He groans and I feel the first pulse of his cock, the first hot jet of his cum. He grunts louder with each pulse, his cum filling me up, burning me from the inside out.

I start to come at the same time, but I'm not sure if I'm making the noise or if it's him. It's a cacophony in my ear drums, the moans and the ringing in my ears. His body ices over, his muscles tightening and his breathing stops. My body is on fire, but it's a good kind of pain. I'm burning up from the inside out. I can't breathe and I'm not sure what to do with my hands. I don't know if I should take them off the back of the couch or keep them there. He's still inside me, and his grip around my neck is so tight I almost pass out, and then he stops.

He pulls out and I feel a gush of liquid down my thighs. I’m winded, sucking in breath after breath as I collapse on the couch and turn around. Blood drips from his cock, staining his trousers and I look between my legs at the mess he’s made of me. My own blood pools with his cum on the inside of my thigh and runs to the sofa beneath me, staining it. I look away, ashamed how much I enjoyed the sex when this is the result.

Lorenzo stands over me like some proud peacock with a stiff dick covered in my juices and blood, and I want to lash out at him, but god only knows what he’ll do next.

“Now, we are ready to continue.” He tucks his dick away, zipping it up, then wiping his fingers on another swatch of material.

I feel the one he stuffed inside of me, but I don’t even want to think of retrieving it right now, not with the wedding planner watching. I pick up my panties and she comes into view, giving Lorenzo a wide berth as she sits back in her seat at the end of the table and staring at me in horror. This was all some stupid lesson he intended to make me feel embarrassed or something. Well it didn’t work. I’m not embarrassed.

My eyes stay fixed on her terrified expression as I slip my panties on and then pick up my blouse. I shrug it on and Lorenzo sitsback down to continue wedding planning. But as I pick up my jeans to put them on, he clears his throat and speaks.

“Your assistance is no longer needed, Sofia. You may go sit with your brother.” My gaze flicks to his and I scoff.

“I thought you wanted my help?”

“Your presence is better elsewhere now. Ms. Riccio understands her place and I can finish things up. Go bathe. I’ll have you for dinner tonight.” His eyes thin to slits and I glare at him, then glance at her. She seems truly paralyzed with fear, but there is nothing I can do to help her now. Besides, Lorenzo has eyes for only me, or so it seems. He won’t lay a finger on her now that Satan is sated. She has nothing to worry about other than his picky decisions about stationary and fonts.

I button my pants and move toward the door, feeling the dampness and sting between my thighs. Maybe part of his plan was to force me to change into the ridiculously posh clothing he bought for me. My jeans and panties are now clearly ruined by bloodstains, and I doubt I’ll ever see them again once I have a bath.

Something tells me that when Lorenzo said he would have me for dinner, he meant I was on the menu, not as a guest. Part of me is excited about that and part of me wants to get on the first plane back to New York and hide in the concrete jungle hoping he loses interest.

I breeze past Lord, who has taken his place outside the door where he was before that whole fiasco, and head down the hall. My legs are weak in the knee, an effect he has on me when he fucks me like that. And my neck hurts too, from him squeezing me. The first time he did it I thought he was going to kill me. Buthe doesn’t truly hurt me, at least not permanently. It’s like he gets off on feeling my pulse in my neck, like he has to come close to taking my life as a means to push his body over the edge.

I rub it nervously, remembering how tightly he squeezed. Why do I let him do this to me? His dominance is a drug, and I’m a fucking helpless addict of his thick cock. I’m weak. I’m not Dr. Sofia Carter, prized surgeon. I’m a fucking whore for him and I hate myself for it.

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