Page 51 of Emperor of Corruption
“I’m going to eat your pussy for dessert. You’re going to bury your hands in my hair, moan at the top of your lungs, andparticipate. Whether this takes five minutes or five hours is completely up to you; if I need to edge you into oblivion to get your compliance, that’s exactly what I’ll fucking do. Got it?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He scissors his fingers inside of me, setting off an involuntary round of spasms, and leans forward,blowingon my pussy. He uses his free hand to spread my folds while I clutch the edge of the table, withholding a moan.
“I’ve wanted this ever since I first saw you, and one taste was enough to get me hooked,” he mutters.
He flattens his tongue against my clit andpulsatesit. I’ve had guys go down on me—orattemptto successfully go down on me—before, and I’ve always either faked it or faked wanting their cocks so they’d give it up.
There’s no need to fake anything here. My eyes fall shut, my head tips back, and I bite my bottom lip to muffle a moan.
He languidlyfeastson my clit, alternating between pulsing his tongue in circles, running the flat of it up and down, and then, wrapping his lips around it andsucking. Try as I might to keep myself quiet, a whimper pours out of my lips.
His hand on my thigh tightens, and his fingers slip out of me, reaching down to circle the hole that no one’s ever gotten near until the night he decided to shovegingerup there.
Alarm opens my eyes. “Wait—”
He doesn’t listen. His index finger starts massaging my puckered hole. When I try to wriggle away, whining, his teethnipat my clit. I try to close my legs; he wedges his shoulders between them to keep them open.
If I move too much, this psychopath can bite me until I bleed, and I have no doubt he’d do it. He’s exhibited no signs of wanting to protect me from bodily harm—he’s the one whoinflictsit.
All I can do is bite my tongue, grip the table until my knuckles turn white and stare at the ceiling as he plays with my body, using it however he wishes with no regard to my boundaries or desires.
His index finger, wet with my arousal, inches into my ass. I clench down on it, still sore from the figging. I hold my breath to trap a moan, and pray for this to be over quickly.
My body doesn’t maintain the same compunctions as I do. Tension starts to tighten every single one of my muscles, and my legs begin trembling from the onslaught of sensation. The stimulation is everywhere—his finger in my ass, slowly sliding deeper, his mouth alternating between lavishing my clit with attention and sucking the arousal leaking from my pussy, his fingernails digging into my thigh, and my sore ass balanced on the unforgiving edge of the table, lending an extra bite of pain.
I’m close to an orgasm in no time at all. Noises are trapped in my throat, I’m panting, and sweat is coating my skin. My ass starts to clench around Killian’s finger, fluttering with warning of my impending orgasm, and that’s when he pulls back.
The motherfucker pulls back.
I glance down at him, alarmed and bereft, and he locks gazes with me, a lazy smile stretching his shiny lips.
“I want to hear your moans, and I want your fingers tugging at my hair. Until that happens, you don’t get an orgasm.”
“I want you to dropdead,” I hiss.
“Mm,” he hums, amused. “With all these insults, you reallymustbe falling in love with me.”
It strikes me that he doesn’t mind my rudeness, not when I’ve branded it as a love language. My brows pinch from curiosity as I stare at him, a mind-boggling realization dawning on me.
He doesn’t just want my body; he wants my companionship for the next weeks. It wasn’t just my physical appearance that drew him to me, that made him behave in this unhinged way—it was also mypersonality.
The sooner I give it to him, the sooner we can be done with this fucking circus.
He starts thrusting his finger in and out of my ass, slowly. I hide a grimace, and force myself to release a moan, which comes out strained and insincere.
Killian’s response to my effort is to shove a second finger inside my ass without preamble; I cry out in pain, trying to move away from him. He pinches my clit until I cry out again, louder, stuck in a spiral of agony.
“I don’t want your pain right now,” he tells me flatly. “But I’m not above punishing you for faking a moan. Don’t give me a reason to hurtyou, and I won’t.” His hold on my poor clit gradually releases, and he rubs it in gentle circles, soothing the hurt.
A moment later, his deadly mouth goes back to work. I gather my courage, scrunch up my face in disgust, and thread my fingers through his hair. He grunts against my pussy, and the sound reverberates all the way through my body, hardening my nipples. My hold in his hair tightens.
I don’t trap the next moan that comes out of my throat. I let it loose, forcing myself to forget that there’s a restaurant full of people outside that curtain, and that the waitstaff are probably gathered outside it, listening in on my humiliation.
I forget that this is just part of Killian’s plan—trapping me further—and that I’d give my left pinky to get away from this nightmare. Instead, I surrender to the pleasure and let it carry me away.
This time when I crest, Killian doesn’t stop. I jerk with a cry, tugging on his hair until it must be painful, clenching around his fingers. He growls against my flesh and fixes his lips around my clit, sucking until I can’t withhold a loud moan that I’m positive carries throughout the entire restaurant.
I moan, I buck, I grind against his face, and I surrender to one of the most consuming orgasms I’ve ever experienced.
