Amma gasped, but the pain barely came before pleasure flooded behind it. “I can’t help it,” she panted. “I want you.”
“I would certainly like to be of assistance, Amma, but every time I attempt to gratify you, I am callously interrupted by some clandestine force.” Damien slid his palm down along her belly again and laid it flat just below her navel, fingertips drumming so close to where she needed them. “And I cannot help but think it is because divinity knows that I would derive far too much pleasure from finally tasting you.”
“Let me taste you then,” she mewled, toes curling at the thought of wrapping lips around the length she had pressed herself to.
“If only I were deserving of that.” His throaty laughter blanketed her in chills. “But perhaps the satisfaction of witnessing you come apart could be countered by the torture of feeling you writhe up against me with no relief.” Damien shifted, this time closer, the length of him pressing firmly against her backside. She groaned as his hand skimmed her thigh to land on her knee. “Shall we experiment?”
Amma swallowed hard. The arcana was still pulsing between them, matching her shallow breaths and prodding at her insides as his hands did her skin. “Yes,” she barely croaked out, words hard to find in her anticipation. “Now.”
He lifted her leg and pushed his knee between hers from behind, spreading her thighs. His other hand gripped her wrists even tighter though she didn’t dare attempt to escape. “I know you’re quite distracted, but have you so quickly forgotten that you should be on your best behavior for me? Where are your manners?”
“Please?” she husked, licking her lips. “I need you, MasterBloodthorne. Please touch me.”
“That’s my good girl.”
Damien’s hand finally slid between Amma’s thighs, and no longer could she hold still as she’d promised. She bucked against his fingers as they dipped down into her wetness, drawing a groan up out of his chest that vibrated into her back. Slick and methodical, he encircled her, and it would only take moments, she was already writhing and arching away from him.
But Damien would not let her go, pressing himself to her back and digging his grip into her wrists. She turned her face into the pillow, the squeeze that kept her in place delicious and making her cry out.
He quickened his speed, and it was like being lifted suddenly into the sky, Amma’s stomach flipping, her only anchor his grip, but it was everywhere, on her wrists, at her back, stroking her core. Being wound tighter and tighter, she could hardly breathe, knowing her squirming was anything but rhythmic back against him. She’d never been so wild, but there was safety there caught in his trap.
“So eager,” he hummed, and his hand came away to caress the inside of her thigh.
Amma sucked in a breath and frantically wiggled her hips. “Don’t stop, not now.”
“No,” he said, sharpness to his voice that made her fall still as he clamped onto her flesh. “You’re not getting out of this quickly. You were promised punishment, and now you’re going to endure exactly what I say you will.”
Amma shivered as his touch played over her legs and her stomach and her breasts, every place but where she needed it, and she couldn’t even squeeze her thighs together to relieve the growing ache. Ensnared, her longing as intense as ever, her skin was set alight under his fingers, but the place he neglected calmed.
And then he began again. Brought up so quickly, Amma cried out into the linens once more, and then Damien’s touch came to another brutal halt. Her mind was cloudy with lust, but she finally understood that it was not satisfaction he intended to give her but suffering. Yet if this were how he had decided to punish her, she couldn’t really think him cruel, even as he whispered into her ear that she wasn’t allowed to come undone under the torment of his touch, not yet, not until, well…he would see if she could earn it, somehow, if she proved to him she was good enough.
And so Amma tried. She endured under stillness, breath held. She wriggled and gasped while softening into him. She arched against his length while feigning an attempt at escape. Time and time again she made pleas and promises, and he told her he was beginning to believe her with laughter that could have been sweet if it didn’t throb at her back like she was lying on the earth as it quaked.
“Oh, gods,” she breathed as the pressure under his fingers built for a countless time.
“Don’t invite the gods here,” he rumbled against her ear. “They would be very disappointed to know you were allowing a demon spawn to command you like this.”
“I don’t care,” she moaned.
“Don’t belong to your gods anymore, then?” There was a pleasure baser than any beast in his words as he pressed a finger deep into her core and drew it back out with a curl, lighting up a place inside her that she didn’t know existed.
“No.” She clenched her bound hands into fists, eyes closed, unsure she could brave him stopping again. “I belong to you.”
Damien’s hand slowed, but this time didn’t abandon her, instead only drawing lazy circles. “Do you mean this? Truly?”
“Yes.” She caught her breath, nodding, the words that had been pouring from her chest for so long but always catching inher throat finally freeing themselves. “I’m yours, Damien.”
He exhaled against her neck, his length throbbing, fingers quickening. “Mine,” he rasped, squeezing her wrists and pulling her even tighter against him. “My sweet Ammalie would do whatever I say, wouldn’t she? Arcanely possessed or not?”
The truth broke out of her like a sprout reaching for the sun. “Yes. Anything.”
“Come apart for me.”
Amma cried out, body obeying, run through with relief and torment and exhaustion and bliss. Her legs trembled, chest barely containing a pounding heart as her body stiffened, but Damien kept her close, a roar from deep in his throat coursing up against her back.
Awash with heat and wetness and the release of a pressure that had been building inside her not just for the night but for moons, she collapsed, his name mumbled on her lips, dizzy, spent.
But this time his fingers didn’t relent.
