Page 128 of Born in Depravity

I could feel his cum spilling out of me. Could see the mess we’d made coating his cock.

He groaned and moved his hand between my slick folds.

My muscles clenched.

“Do you fucking know how good you look like this? With my cum on your greedy little cunt, mixed with your virgin blood?” His thumb moved up to my clit.

My toes curled and I squirmed on the bed, unsure of what I wanted: for him to stop, or for him to continue.

He moved his fingers down my crease, down between my ass cheeks.

The muscles there tightened and he smiled devilishly at me.

“One of these days, I’m going to take you right here.”

I licked my dry lips, my eyes widening, unsure if I wanted that or not.

That was so … taboo.

His smile widened a little before he pulled away from me, and I was left … wanting.

Damien climbed out of bed.

My eyes automatically moved to his cock once more.

Fuck. Like a beacon drawing my attention on the foggiest of nights.

It was hard to believe he had been inside me just moments before. Even when he wasn’t erect, he was still big.

I shifted on the bed, feeling my muscles ache in places I didn’t know could ache.

Damien’s eyes lightened when he noticed where my attention was.

“Later,” he said, bending down and picking me up. I automatically wrapped my arms around his neck and he carried me to the bathroom.

I let out a small squeal when he placed me, bare-bottomed, on the cold surface of the bathroom counter.

I glared at him and he laughed, surprising me.

My breath caught. My eyes widened and I looked at him.

He stopped laughing and tucked a messy strand of dark hair behind my ear.

“What, pet?”

I shook my head. I wouldn’t be able to explain my surprise to him even if I could find my words.

He turned on the bath.

I grabbed the towel nearby and covered myself with it as soon as his back was to me. He turned his head, amusement clear in his eyes.

“You really think that will help?”

I shrugged. I just felt better covered up. I wasn’t like him. I wasn’t comfortable walking around naked.

My eyes moved down his huge frame. He had a tattoo of two large realistic-looking wings that spanned the upper part of his back. I could still remember when he moved my hands there, letting me feel the scars the whip lashes had left behind.

The tattoos didn’t make them look too bad, but feeling them—the raised skin, the mutilation …

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