Page 28 of The Captive's Curse
I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the immediate image that gave me of what he had to be seeing: my hole all pink and stretched from last night, sloppy and wet with my magic’s contribution to the affair.
It didn’t work. I couldn’t picture anything else, except that my mind helpfully added his huge, thick cock pushing in. Balls deep. Without a hitch.
My voice had all but disappeared, but I managed to rasp out, “Why aren’t you, then?” I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t, but the words came out all the same: “Or did you already finish and I didn’t notice?”
Enzo’s hands on my ass went tense, fingers digging in, and his quick, indrawn breath echoed in the room. I nearly choked as my heartbeat burst into a wild gallop, the tension stretching between us like caramel. My cock stirred. Heat twisted through my insides.
What would he do to me? Punish me again—but really hurt me this time, a beating rather than a spanking? That didn’t seem likely. My captivity so far hadn’t been brutal. Enzo hadn’t been brutal.
But he might, and I was at his mercy…
A terrifying, wonderful bubble of fear and anticipation pushed up into my throat, threatening to carry me away, floating, my head light…
And then Enzo sighed, sliding his hands down to grip my thighs.
“You must have really enjoyed that,” he said, “since you’re clearly trying to provoke me into doing it again. But your ass can’t take any more. Of that, anyway. I’m pretty sure this is where I’m supposed to kiss it better, actually. Isn’t that what one of your ever-so-gallant noble lovers would do?”
Before I could even begin to make sense of that, or try to protest his offensive sarcasm, he shifted his weight and shuffled his knees back on the chaise.
I opened my mouth to demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing.
Warm lips pressed against my burning skin in the middle of my right cheek. And then he flicked his tongue, a sweet lashing that left a spot of soothing coolness in its wake.
Instead of an acerbic reply to his impertinence, a long, throaty moan came out of my open mouth. And then a choking gasp. And a whining, high-pitched whimper I couldn’t believe I’d produced, as he traced his tongue across my cheek and toward the center of me. One of his hands stroked across, fingers dipping into the crease, and he slid a finger inside, swirling it around, teasing my sensitive rim, tracing my opening.
He pulled it away, and then he…he…swiped my slick over the inner curve of my ass andlicked it up, tongue flat, breath hot, lips caressing.
My head spun, and I collapsed again like he’d cut my strings, face buried in the chaise as I groaned my complete surrender.
“Thinner than honey, but almost as sweet,” he said thoughtfully. “Not bad at all.”
A puff of his breath was the only warning I had before he tugged my cheeks apart again as wide as he could spread them—and thrust his tongue into my hole.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl, every detail around me standing out with bizarre clarity. The fire crackled. A floorboard beneath us creaked. The chaise was very threadbare indeed, though it had once been some darker shade of green satin with gold embroidery, and my gaze caught and held on a bare patch, grayish-white threads over ancient moth-eaten wool stuffing.
Almost as sweet. I’d never tasted the slick stuff my magic produced for me.
Neither had anyone else. They’d always seen it the way I did, as a convenience that would allow them to fuck me faster and more easily than otherwise.
Enzo’s tongue stabbed into me, the thicker part of it stretching me open, his lips pressed against the rim of my hole. Tasting and eating me, sending stinging shocks of startling ecstasy careening along all my nerves. I went hot all over, my skin tight and thin-feeling, legs and arms trembling. He growled, and the vibrations burrowed into my balls.
Everything between my legs was wet and overstimulated and hot and loose and tight all at once, his thumbs stroking the inner curves of my cheeks, my skin still sore from the way he’d spanked me so thoroughly, my insides clenching, my cock aching and neglected and fully hard again.
He pulled his tongue out and lapped the flat of it over my hole, from the tender skin behind my balls all the way into the crease.
And then he blew out a sharp breath against me and I cried out, clenching, knowing he was watching me react to him, my wet pink hole at his mercy. He licked me and blew on me, fucked me with his tongue again, kissed me, bit the sides of my cheeks, until I writhed and sobbed, my face raw from rubbing against ancient gold embroidery that had been soaked with my tears and saliva.
An orgasm convulsed my body at some point…it hardly mattered, because he didn’t even pause, only thrust two fingers in next to his tongue and twisted them to hit that place inside me that was even more sensitive than the rest.
By the time he lifted his head and slid his fingers out of me, I could barely open my eyes, barely moan, the air heaving in out and of my lungs in deep, too-fast gasps.
Every inch of my skin prickled with heat and sweat, the tips of my fingers vibrating with the force of my heart. When Enzo knelt back up again, thighs pressing against mine, I simply waited, trembling, for him to do whatever he chose with me.
Chapter Eleven
Enzo chose to push into me slowly, inch by agonizingly deliberate inch, filling me and owning me. Gods, he’d reduced me to a quivering sheath for him, wet and soft and receptive and unable to do more than moan into the cushions. With his cock stuffed all the way in, thick and hard and pressing the air out of my lungs, he—fuck, he stopped, smoothing his palms over my ass and hips in little circles.
Any second now he’d fuck me violently. Wouldn’t he? Pull back and slam into me, make me scream.
