Page 78 of Stolen Harmony
His mouth twisted into a vicious grin. “That’s the plan.” He kept one hand on my wrists and dragged his other palm slowly down my stomach, nails biting just enough to leave pink trails. He pressed the heel of his hand hard against my cock, grinding it into my hip, the friction almost painful through the wet, clinging fabric. “Soaked for me already. You love it when I handle you rough, don’t you? You need someone to put you in your place.”
“Yes—fuck, yes, Victor, please—” The words tumbled out, shameless, every bit of composure burned away.
He pressed his thigh between my legs, forcing me to grind against him. “Look at you, humping like a desperate little slut. Keep going, Rowan. Show me how bad you want it.”
I rolled my hips, rutting against his thigh, and he watchedwith greedy, predatory satisfaction. His hand slid beneath the waistband of my briefs, not quite touching my cock, just skimming the sensitive skin at my lower belly, making me arch up helplessly. He let his fingers trace the outline of me—teasing, tormenting, making sure I stayed right on the edge.
“Bet you’d let me do anything to you right now, wouldn’t you? Let me fuck you in this bed, make you scream my name until the whole damn building knows who you belong to?”
“Yes, yes, please—” I couldn’t stop begging, didn’t care if it sounded pathetic. All I wanted was more of his hands, his teeth, his weight pinning me down.
Victor released my wrists and immediately gripped my jaw, squeezing just hard enough to hurt. “Open,” he commanded. I parted my lips, and he spat in my mouth, rough and filthy. “Swallow.”
I did, eyes locked on his, and he rewarded me with a brutal kiss—biting, devouring, his tongue fucking my mouth like he was showing me exactly what he wanted to do to the rest of me. I moaned into him, letting him take and take.
He broke away and sat back on his heels, pushing his own briefs down just far enough to free his cock. He was thick, flushed, the head already slick and glistening with precome. He stroked himself lazily, letting me see every inch, the possessive glint in his eyes making me even harder.
“Hands behind your back, Rowan. Show me how good you can be for me.” I obeyed, wrists tangled in the sheets, every muscle tense with anticipation. “You want my cock, don’t you? Want me to fuck your pretty mouth, fill you up?”
I nodded, desperate. “Please, Victor, I need it—need you?—”
He laughed, low and mean. “You really are a mess. Maybe I should leave you like this—frustrated, dripping, begging for something you know you shouldn’t want. But you look too good like this to stop.”
He crawled forward, pressing the head of his cock against my lips. “Taste.” I opened up, letting him slide over my tongue, the flavor of him sharp and salty, pure sin. He didn’t thrust deep, just let me suck the head, swirl my tongue, taste every drop he leaked for me.
“God, you’re filthy,” Victor groaned, gripping the back of my head and fucking shallow into my mouth.
He pulled back before I could choke, spit slick on my chin. “Get on your knees.” I scrambled to obey, body aching, briefs still stretched tight over my leaking cock. He pushed me down, bending me over the edge of the bed, hands gripping my hips, grinding his own cock against my ass through the thin cotton.
Victor gripped the back of my neck, fingers threaded hard into my hair, and pulled me up so I was kneeling between his legs, cock jutting out just above my lips. “Look at you—fucking mess, drooling for it. Open up.” I parted my lips, breath coming hot and desperate, and he slapped the head of his cock against my tongue, smearing precome across it.
He didn’t wait for me to get comfortable. His grip tightened, dragging me forward, his cock sliding deep, hitting the back of my throat. I gagged but didn’t fight it—didn’t want to, not with the way his voice dropped to a growl. “Take it. Take every fucking inch. God, I love seeing you like this, Rowan.”
He rocked his hips, setting a relentless rhythm, using my mouth the way he wanted, not letting me pull back more than a breath before shoving me down again. I clutched his thighs for balance, fingernails digging into the hard muscle beneath his skin. The taste of him—bitter, salty, the raw heat of need—filled my mouth, my nose, my lungs.
Victor’s free hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back so spit and precome ran down my chin, marking me. He leaned over, mouth by my ear, breath hot and vicious. “Messy little slut. Cock-drunk, and I haven’t even really started yet.”He spit on me, fat and wet, the glob landing on my tongue where his cock had just been, then forced me back down, making me swallow it around him.
I moaned, shameless, loving the roughness, the way he barely gave me time to breathe before he was fucking my throat again. He pulled out suddenly, strings of spit connecting my lips to his cock, then slapped his dick against my cheek, smearing my face with filth and pride.
“On all fours, Rowan,” Victor ordered, voice cold steel. “I want to see that perfect ass while you suck me.” I scrambled to obey, face burning with arousal and shame, knees digging into the cheap rug. My briefs were still stretched taut over my leaking cock, a dark wet patch spreading across the cotton. I heard Victor’s approval in the sound he made—low, greedy, almost satisfied.
He straddled my back, not letting me turn, and bent over me. His hand came down in a sharp slap on my ass, the sting making me gasp and arch into him. “Don’t fucking move unless I tell you.” His cock pressed against my lips again, and I opened wide, eager, needy, letting him fuck into my mouth from behind while his other hand kept a bruising grip on my hip, grinding my ass up into his own body.
Victor set the rhythm—deep, hard, relentless. Every time I gagged, he pulled out just enough to let me breathe, then shoved back in, all while spitting down onto my tongue, onto my cheek, letting it run down to drip off my jaw onto the sheets below. “You like that, don’t you?”
I whimpered, humiliated and so fucking hard I was leaking through the fabric, cock throbbing with every rough thrust. He used my mouth like it was his right, like I was made for this, for taking him, for submitting. Each time he pulled me off his cock, he’d spit on me again—on my lips, my tongue, my face—then shove his dick right back between my lips, fuckinginto the wetness, getting off on the sound of my gasps and moans.
“Look at you,” Victor taunted, voice low and mean, “mouth stretched wide, spit everywhere, taking it like a good little whore. You want everyone to see you like this, don’t you?”
He reached around and shoved my briefs down to my knees, exposing my ass and cock, which bounced and leaked for him, desperate and untouched. “You’re dripping all over yourself. Haven’t even touched you and you’re already making a mess. Fucking insatiable.”
Victor slapped my ass again, harder, making me yelp around his cock. He didn’t slow down—just kept pounding into my mouth, spit running down my chin and neck, filthy and raw. Every now and then, he’d pull out, stroke his cock over my lips, smear precome across my face, then spit again, letting it mix with everything else.
He bent over me, chest pressed to my back, cock still in my mouth, hand tight on my hip. “Beg for it, Rowan. Beg for my cock. Tell me you need it, tell me how filthy you are for me.”
“Please, Victor, please—need you, need to be used, want you to fuck my mouth, want you to spit on me, make me yours, ruin me—” The words were garbled, desperate, spit bubbling on my lips.
“Good boy,” he purred, then shoved his cock deeper, making me choke and sob around him. He pulled me up by my hair, spit into my open mouth, and made me hold it there, cheeks bulging. “Don’t swallow. Show me.”
