Page 33 of Executing Malice
“No!” I hiss through gritted teeth. “I don’t even know—”
The bar through my clit is captured between his teeth and tugged, breaking off my protest. Turning it into a howl of pure agony and pleasure. It tears my back off the mattress. I scream as he tugs the bar again, harder. My thighs clamp uselessly around his head, but he doesn’t stop.
He wants this.
Wants my unwilling submission.
He wants the fight and resistance.
“I’m going to breed you,” he growls, voice thick with feral hunger, the filthy need to do just that. “And you’re going to take it and love it. I will make you need it. Want it. Want my cum. My baby. You’ll beg me to fill your belly.”
“No...” I whine, weak and pathetic. My body is already soaked at the very idea. Already willing, despite my protest. “Please, I can’t.”
He barks a chuckle. “Oh, but you will.”
The hands on my hips drift up beneath my top to cup my breasts. teasing fingers brush and glide up and over my nipples. Tease the bars he put there a handful of hours ago. He matches his strokes to his flicking tongue, and I can’t find the sense to argue anymore. I can’t think of anything, except the cliff edge as I tumble over.
The orgasm doesn’t break me.
It obliterates.
It destroys.
It steals every drop of my self-control as I try to scream and nothing comes out. My entire body locks up as the pressure rips through me, caging and freeing me simultaneously. Darkness takes me under a full heartbeat before I crash down to him still lapping at my seizing core like my release is the nectar of life.
Only when I’m no longer shuddering does he push up onto his knees between my quivering thighs.
“Open, Leila.”
My legs stay open. Not from obedience, but because I can’t close them. I’m too weak and exhausted. My center is swollen and tender. I’m ready for sleep.
But he’s moving over me. I can’t see him beyond a vague outline, but the mattress shifts. His weight anchors over me. The pillow dips next to my side with the planting of his fist.
“What...?” I begin feebly, when the head of his cock strokes through the mess he’s created between my thighs. I stiffen. “Wait...”
The tip presses in.
I jerk with a gasp. My wrists strain uselessly against my restraints.
“N-no, please, not inside,” I whisper, throat hoarse.
He doesn’t answer.
He rocks forward instead. Just enough to push the swollen crown past the resistance. Stretching me. Filling me.
That’s when I feel it.
Metal. Cold, hard metal.
It snaps my eyes open wide in the darkness.
“What is that?”
His low chuckle brushes across my cheeks.
“It’s for you,” he rasps, circling his hips so the piercings drag along every raw, aching nerve ending inside me. “My Magic Cross.”
I whimper as the pressure builds all over again in a rush that should have been impossible. My hips lift to take more of him even while my brain screams it’s already too much. He’s already too deep, and he’s not even fully in. Yet, every tiny motion of his hips sends a fresh ripple of pleasure across my inner walls.
