“Fuck you,” I hissed, trying to pry him off me.
I was too close, too close to not only losing but coming for him again. My dick was so fucking spent. Even I couldn’t maintain this much stimulation and orgasms in one fucking night, much less a span of only a few hours.
“Get off me,” I demanded, pressing my boot on his hard cock in his pants. He hissed, and my ears caught the sound.
He enjoys pain. Of course he does. Fuck. A sadist and a masochist?
I tried to pull free again, my body stuck in the never-ending vortex of his mouth, the suction sounds, his groans, my own fucking moaning, and the goddamn pounding of my heart.
“Fuck…no. Not again. Fucking no.”
My words didn’t matter. My hips were thrusting forward with blinding speed, his hands were still fondling my nuts, and I was losing so much more than the power I desperately needed.
“That’s right, Sunshine. Fucking come for me. And remember, you are fucking mine. You thought having me on my knees meant you were in control? How cute. That’s not submission, Baby. That’s devotion, and I’m not the one succumbing to the desires they can’t stop. You are.”
“Fuck. You. Carrington.”
He was right. I was not in control of anything, much less him.
He moved his mouth before I could stop him. The way his tongue piercing and those little loops on his lips were able to stroke every sensitive spot on my damn balls…it was fucking maddening. Then, before I could even catch my breath, he was taking me right back down his throat.
He wasn’t just tasting me. He was devouring me…
Claiming me.
“Mmm, Fuck. I fucking hate you, Carrington Harding. Fuuuck.”
He pulled off my cock, staring into my eyes, and stripped me fucking bare. His voice was my undoing, the broken, panted syllables going straight to my balls. He pushed me right over the edge of an orgasm I couldn’t stop.
“Oh, fuck, Sunshine. You look so beautiful like this. Trying so damn hard to hold on but knowing you’re going to lose the battle. Does it feel less like defeat if you torture yourself before? My beautiful little masochist. You will fail. Not because you can’t help it, but because deep down youwant to. You want to break for me.”
He was fucking right. I couldn’t fight him. His mouth slammed down on me so hard I saw stars, and my head fell back while my hands gripped his fucking hair.
“Hate…oh my fucking God. I hate you!”
My come shot out of me like a loaded gun, drenching his throat as it choked him. My spent cock slipped free of his swollen lips, leaving a slick line of spit hanging between us.
I tried to catch my breath, shoving him away from me, back against the tree. He gasped for his own air as he fucking laughed at me. His tattooed chest was heaving, but his grin was bloody and wide.
“Feelings mutual, Baby Boy,” he rasped, licking the corner of his mouth. “But hey, at least I’m not a cock tease.”
He stroked his length through the black leather pants, and I growled, kicking my foot toward him, feeling too unsteady to do much else.
I want to crush him. I want to kill him.
I reached forward and grabbed his jaw, smearing the spit, come, and blood across his perfect face, while forcing him to look at me. My forehead was just above his face, my sweat dripping down between us, like rage and lust colliding until I didn’t know which was stronger.
There are no fucking feelings.
“You were my bitch. Nothing more. And now you’re covered in my come. Say it, Carrington. Say my fucking name, brand it on your disgusting skin.” I ordered, my voice shaking.
He tilted his head, lips brushing mine with the ghost of a laugh as I jerked back.
“Shiloh,” he whispered, soft as a prayer.
And fuck me.
I had wanted to break him. To ruin him for what he’d done to me. To humiliate him and make him feel real pain.
