Page 87 of Devil in Disguise

“You’re mine tonight, lover. Relax and enjoy it.” My threat hung unspoken, a promise of pain and pleasure intertwined.

The fight drained from him. “Fuck,” he breathed, the word a ragged whisper against the onslaught of my kisses. His neck, a canvas of pale skin, throbbed under the fervent assault of my lips and teeth. Each flick of my tongue across his nipples drew a sharp intake of breath and had his body arching uncontrollably under my touch. His skin, taut and slick with sweat, tasted of fear and arousal, a heady mix that ignited something primal within me.

“Get naked, baby. Let me feel you.” His voice was a silken caress, yet his command was absolute. Ignoring his plea, I continued my descent, tracing a fiery path down his stomach, my tongue a branding iron searing his skin. The heat of his body radiated through me. Then, with a sudden, deliberate movement, I was off him, on the floor, his hands freed for a moment, only to be consumed by my face, buried deep in the intoxicating scent and heat of his groin, his hardness throbbing against my cheek. His musk—soap and sweat mingling—filled my nostrils, primal and intoxicating.

His fingers tangled in my hair as I trailed my hands down his legs, the rough texture of his skin a stark contrast to the silken smoothness of his ass. With a swift, brutal motion, I flipped him onto his stomach, my touch leaving no room for hesitation. The top of his briefs fell away, revealing the taut curve of his buttocks. I cupped them, my hands molding the firm globes, spreading the cheeks, reveling in their smooth perfection. His protest died unspoken as my tongue found its mark, a searing brand upon his puckered hole. The scent of his soap battled with the heady musk of his sweat; a potent cocktail that drove me wild.

This was mine. Completely. And utterly. Mine.

The scent of his arousal filled my nostrils as I devoured the feast before me. My tongue, a predator, explored the taut seam of his entrance, each lick a transgression, a violation that sent shivers down his spine. His moans, raw and guttural, were a symphony of surrender, the frantic scrabbling of his fingers against the sheets a desperate plea for more. I savored his escalating pleasure, a power I wielded like a weapon, pushing him to the precipice.

A playful nip to his cheek, a sharp smack to the other—the contrast jolted him, a spark igniting a wildfire. He recoiled, then thrashed against me, a desperate, beautiful struggle against the intoxicating pleasure I inflicted. I found the sweet spot between his cheeks, my fingers sinking into the soft flesh, eliciting another gasp with a swift, deliberate smack. He parted for me, a silent invitation to his depths. I plunged my tongue inside, deep, a conquest both brutal and tender.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, a raw sound that sent a thrill of triumph through me. His body bucked beneath me, a convulsive dance of pure ecstasy. Our mingled fluids, a testament to our shared transgression, traced a glistening path down my chin. Meticulously, I probed, mapping the contours of his tight, exquisite hole, the wet smack of my withdrawal echoing in the tense silence.

With a swift, predatory movement, I flipped him onto his back, tearing away his boxers to reveal the throbbing, potent length beneath. The urge to claim him, to suckle his leaking pipe, was a primal need, a dangerous tide threatening to consume me. Yet, I resisted, my control a heady intoxicant. Instead, I pressed my body against his, our cocks a friction-filled promise separated only by the thin barrier of my shorts. I crushed my mouth to his, letting him taste the tang of himself, the intoxicating blend of our desires.

“Get naked, baby,” he urged once more, his voice thick with need, his body straining against mine. I obeyed only partially. I rose, straddling his firm belly, my ass a provocative weight on his straining length. Slowly, deliberately, I peeled off my shirt, revealing the hard-won muscle beneath, sculpted evidence of my discipline. His fingers, hesitant at first, traced the lines of my body, acknowledging the dedication, the power. I captured his finger, drawing it to my mouth. I didn’t just swallow it; I devoured it, a tantalizing preview of the exquisite torment to come.

“Oh, baby,” he whimpered, the sound a desperate plea. I felt his relentless grind against my ass, a silent promise of the release he craved. He wanted me, needed me, but tonight, I held the reins. I withdrew his finger, trailing the slick, saliva-coated digit down my chest, towards the waistband of my shorts. His fingers snagged the fabric, tugging desperately.

“Are you going to be a good boy?” I purred, the slow gyration of my hips a deliberate torment.

“Yes,” he breathed, the word barely audible, a broken whisper of surrender.

A predatory grin stretched across my lips as I descended, my knees sinking into the plush carpet between his spread legs. The thick, corded flesh of his cock, throbbing with barely contained excitement, was a mere breath from my mouth. The scent of him—musky, primal, and overwhelmingly masculine—filled my nostrils. I felt the heat radiating from his body, a palpable energy that thrummed against my own. His skin, slick with sweat, glistened under the dim light. I cupped his aching hardness, the pulsing power of it a physical shock in my hand. The head, slick with pre-cum, glistened like a pearl, begging to be tasted. My tongue, a sinuous serpent, encircled it, savoring the sweet, salty tang.

“Oh, fuck yes,” he groaned, the sound raw and desperate.

I trailed my tongue down his length, the silken friction driving him wild. His body writhed in a frantic symphony of need. Each shuddering breath, each guttural moan, was a delicious offering to my senses. His balls, plump and heavy in my hand, felt like warm, smooth stones. One by one, I took them into my mouth, reveling in their fullness, his frantic pleas lost in a sea of my own dark pleasure. The taste of him, unique and intoxicating, lingered on my tongue.

I peeled my own shorts away, the rough fabric scratching against my skin as I exposed myself. But no, not yet. I needed more. More of his desperate need, his helpless surrender. Rising, I let my shorts pool around my ankles; the fabric sliding against my thighs as I trailed my tongue back up his shaft, teasing, tormenting, circling the sensitive head.

“Fuck, Dante,” he begged, my name a ragged whisper escaping his lips.

I smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of my lips. Then, like a python seizing its prey, I took him whole. Deep, slow, and deliberate, I swallowed him, savoring the way he filled my mouth, the taste of him, the heat, the sheer power of him. A guttural cry ripped from his throat as I bottomed out, nestled within the dense curl of his black pubic hair, before slowly, agonizingly, withdrawing and repeating the motion, each stroke an act of possession. The tightening of his balls, the anticipation, built to an unbearable crescendo.

Standing, I presented my own hard cock, slick and pulsing, for his inspection. His legs spread wide, his own organ throbbing against his stomach, a desperate plea.

“Dante... what are you doing?” he gasped, a mixture of terror and arousal in his voice.

Grinning, I kneeled between his legs, pushing them further apart. My fingers stroked my own length, the friction intensifying my arousal.

“I told you, lover,” I purred, my voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Tonight... you are mine.”

With one knee braced on the rumpled sheets, and the other planted hard on the floor, I lowered myself onto Danny, the weight of my anticipation a physical pressure. My shaft, a rod of steel, found its mark in the tight heat of his ass. A guttural groan ripped from Danny’s throat, a sound both pained and ecstatic as I drove into him. The scent of his sweat, sharp and musky, filled my nostrils, mingling with the stale scent of the room.

My hand, a branding iron, raked down his chest, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Each thrust was a violation, a conquest, the friction igniting a blaze within him. Danny’s eyes rolled back, his face a mask of agonized pleasure, his mouth a silent scream pressed against the pillow. He was a vessel, brimming with sensation, each fiber of his being screaming in response to my invasion.

Leaning closer, my breath hot against his ear, I hissed, “You like this, don’t you?” My voice was a venomous caress, a stark contrast to the raw animal hunger tearing through me. He tried to answer, a choked whimper the only reply as I withdrew and plunged deeper, the slick heat of his body wrapping around me.

My hands, fists clenched tight on his hips, held him captive, a sacrifice offered at the altar of my desire. The tempo increased, a relentless pounding rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of my heart. His fingers dug into the sheets, tearing at the fabric, each ragged breath a testament to my power. I craved his surrender, his desperate pleas, the admission that he was mine, utterly and completely mine.

With a brutal, deliberate twist, I shifted the angle, hunting for the precise point that would break him, the point of ultimate release. A strangled gasp escaped him. “There... God, right there...” His voice was a broken whisper, raw with need. I found it—the sweet spot where pleasure bled into pain—and his cry shattered the silence, a primal scream of pure, unadulterated want as I watched his dick spew streams of cum all over his beautiful chest. His body arched, taut as a drawn bowstring, as I pounded into him, each thrust a devastating blow.

The bed groaned under the weight of our coupling. Its creaks were a morbid counterpoint to Danny’s ragged moans. I pulled back, watching him writhe, his chest heaving, his nipples tight and erect, his skin glistening with sweat. The sight of him, beautiful and broken, fueled the fire within me, igniting my own release. I drove myself towards the edge, faster, harder, until my explosion consumed me, a torrent of raw power that left me spent and trembling in its aftermath.

Chapter Thirty-Six

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