As I lifted my eyes, I was suddenly hit by the realisation of where my mouth was. I yelped in fright, trying to back away when his hand moved from my earlobe to the back of my neck, keeping me in place, closer to his crotch as he shifted the side of my face to nuzzle the tent between his thighs.
Laughter bubbled from above, and I instinctively clutched onto his thighs. My chin was lifted as rough fingers on his other hand angled my face upward. The hand on my neck loosened its grip as he reached between us, and I heard the unmistakable clink of a belt followed by the sound of a zipper.
And I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Either I’d lost my mind, or he simply had the magnetic presence that was daring me to break eye contact. And trust me, there was nothing but unbridled lust and something wild in his gaze.
“Take out my cock.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Her Heart
No.
The word rang like a gunshot in my head, loud, desperate, but it never reached my lips.
“Take out my cock.”
My skin burned. My fingers twitched where they still clung to the fabric of my dress, wriggling it, strangling it, as if it could somehow anchor me to reality. But there was no reality here. Only him. Only this moment. This trap I had willingly walked into.
I wished I could laugh, scoff and scream. Something. Anything to push against the brutal force of his command. But I didn’t.
Because I knew.
Knew that resistance would only make him hungry. My defiance would only make this worse. His fingers flexed in my hair, almost lazy, but the gravity of them was crushing. He had all the time in the world to watch me fall apart.
“Come on, Dolcezza. I’m waiting.”
The humiliation was worse than anything. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my body to move, to respond, but all I could do was sit there, frozen in place as shame hollowed me out from the inside.
His patience snapped like the courage inside me. The fingers threaded my hair, fisting it, and a yelp died in my throat as I was forced to meet his stormy gaze. “Now.”
My stomach lurched. My nails dug into his thighs, desperate to hold onto anything, to slow this down, to stop this from happening. But it was already too late. I knew it. He knew it. And that cruel smirk told me he was enjoying every second of my downfall.
His free hand moved between us, tugging at his slacks, parting them just enough to make me see how serious he was.
My throat closed as I struggled to breathe. I could feel him. The heat. The danger.
His grip on my hair loosened, fingers tracing down to cradle my cheek. His thumb dragged over my parted lips, teasing and claiming.
“Open,” he ordered. And I did. Because we both knew how this would end. He did not give me time; instead, he was unzipping his slacks. The fear in my eyes brought a smile to his face as he pulled out his enormous member.
The size and girth of it had me panic. He wasn’t fully hard, yet it made me want to run for the hills. My throat went dry suddenly, and before I knew it, I was pushing at his thighs, trying to get away.No. I couldn’t do this.
But this unpredictable man had some other plans. He fisted my hair, pulled my mouth close to his rod. My lips met flesh, forcing me to open my mouth as he slowly pushed himself inside, resting it on my tongue as he waited for me to adjust to his size. “Bite, and I’ll make you regret having a mouth.”
The threat was clear. His thumb traced over my cheek, deceptively gentle, but his stormy gaze held no mercy. I knew he wasn’t bluffing. My fingers curled against his slacks, but it was already too late. It had been from the moment he laid his claim.
A slow, satisfied grin spread across his lips as he bit them. “Good girl,” he murmured, tilting my chin. “Now, suck it.”
My lips parted, but not out of obedience—out of sheer, breathless fear. I had never done this. Even with Adrian, we had normal sex, vanilla even. He never asked me to give him a blowjob. Now, kneeling in front of this man, I realised how dark this world truly was.
The weight of his manhood rested on my tongue, and it felt so foreign, intrusive and unrelentingly hot. The taste of salt, of power, of inevitability, bled into my senses, drowning me in a moment I wished I could escape.
I wanted to scream. To bite down. To remind him I wasn’t something to be conquered. But his grip on my hair was mercilessly malicious.
He owned this moment. Owned me.
A choked whimper betrayed me, and his grin deepened, sin incarnate, carved in arrogance. His thumb smoothed over my cheek. “Look at you,” he breathed, tilting his hips just enough to make my lips stretch wider, to make me feel the slow, merciless pulse of him against my tongue. “So fucking pretty when you’re dripping with my seed.”
