Page 20 of Prince of Ruin
Because he washuge.
The glint of steel caught her eye. A piercing. Before she could explore, he wrapped her hair around his fist and drew her onto her hands and knees.
This wasn’t for her.
This was punishment.
“Open that pretty mouth,” he told her.
She knew what he wanted of her.
Her lips slid over the swollen head of his cock. He tasted like salt and sin. She curled her hand around the base of him, encouraged by the sharp intake of breath that he made, and then swallowed him whole.
Or as far as she could get.
“Fuck.” It was the first time she’d seen a crack in his composure. His fist clenched in her hair. “More.”
Sera’s eyes watered as he tilted her head back and slid deep. A row of little barbells brushed over her tongue—he was pierced all the way beneath his shaft—and then she was taking all of him. She couldn’t breathe. All she could taste was cock, and just before she began to choke, he withdrew again.
She could see herself reflected in his eyes as he glanced down.
Heels still on. Thigh high stockings torn in places. Lipstick bleeding around her mouth. Broken wings.
A picture of innocence ruined. His cock flexed, and her breath caught. This was what he wanted of her. This was why he’d taken one look at her in the gallery and been unable to walk away.
This was the key to ruining him.
Sera dug her hands into his ass and urged him toward her.
Go ahead. Ruin me. Try and fuck me from your soul. Lock your heart away, and let it bleed.
The next thrust came harder.
Faster.
Then he was fucking her mouth with cold, callous thrusts.
He wasn’t here. Not with her. She could see it in his eyes, see it in the way he threw his head back and drove forward, a little harsher.
Maybe he was the master of seduction between the two of them, but she needed to reach him.
See me.
Sera slid her tongue along the bottom of his slick length, flicking it against the arrow-shaped groove beneath the head of him. Cold metal danced over her tongue, and he glanced down.
Their eyes met.
The next thrust was not as deep. Sera slid her hands down the back of his thighs, digging her nails into the hard muscle. Azazel pinned her there, his hands clasped around her head. His lip curled in a silent snarl, want and need warring with the desire to control the moment.
Sera suckled hard, and stole another gasp from him.
She’d been on the receiving end of enough of Tayla’s enthusiastic endorsements of this act to have some idea of what she was doing.
There was no finesse. There was no need for it. Desperation and urgency made up for her lack of experience. His piercings scraped over her teeth, and she sucked and licked and choked on that thick length, loving every second of it.
Azazel shuddered. “Stop.”
No. She could sense him there, right on the edge, and she gave him as much mercy as he’d shown her. One hand fisted tight in her hair. He was thrusting now, fucking her mouth, his spine arching.
