“You take a surprising amount,” he chuckled. “Shame. You’d fit me so nicely.”
I bit back a yelp when he thrust it back inside me—this time harder than the first. “Fuck! Oh. Belial. Please. Please make me cum.”
He began to pump the bottle into me with a pace that had me drooling into his blankets. My fingers twisted into them, holding on for dear life. It had been so long since I’d fucked Mark. It didn’t take long to work me up. I was already on the edge, just a few more thrusts was all it would take.
I didn’t expect the pleasure to crash over me so brutally—like a tidal wave intent on drowning me. I gasped for breath, my body shaking so violently as my nerves struggled to process this feeling.
“You did well.” Belial fell back onto the pillows, the arm holding the wine bottle propped on one knee. He tipped the bottle back and this time a milky substance—the cum that had dribbled into the bottle—slipped through the glass, past the mouth hole of his mask, and down his throat.
A sated sigh fell from his lips—like he’d drunk a refreshing glass of lemonade and not my cum.
He snapped his fingers and just like that, the chain fell off my collar. I’d half hoped the collar would come off too, but I guess that wasn’t part of the deal. The restraints binding my wrists undid themselves, and I pulled my hands free.
“You better get out of here,” he said with a sigh. “Before I decide I like the taste of you too much to let you go.”
Chapter13
RAYVEN
I toreout of Belial’s room, gasping for breath. My back hit the wall and I slid down, burying my face into my knees. My flesh was hot and sticky and still crusted in wax.
I felt utterly spent—used.
Disturbed.
And oh so fuckingwet.
What I should have felt was shame for what I had to do for that demon to release me.
Instead, I felt…alive, surrounded by all this death. Then again, I’d always felt more at home surrounded by the dead.
There was a little voice in the back of my head telling me that I belonged here. Probably because I deserved to rot in purgatory given my career choice. Maybe an eternity in this place wouldn’t be total Hell with someone like Belial doling out my punishments.
No,bad vagina.I scolded the throbbing flesh. Not that I blamed it. I knew all my previous lays had been disappointing in bed, but after what just happened with that demon, I had more perspective on just how bad they’d been.
Still. I couldn’t stay in the land of the dead just because it had better dick.
I stood up and shoved my hand under my dress, picking off the wax.
My chances of escape were slim, but I still had to try. I was determined for it to go better than last time. A shiver shot through me at the memory of the hands, grabbing me from all directions—touchingme.
Then, the fresher memory of Belial’s hands smoothing over me, firm and dominant, took over.
I took one last look at his door, my heart twisting into knots, before launching into a sprint.
My bare feet pounded against the tile floor as I raced down the hall, the white nightgown flapping wildly behind me. The collar around my neck felt heavier as I ran, but I ignored it, shoving away every ounce of discomfort and focusing solely on getting out of this damned castle.
Before I knew it, I was following a familiar path.Left at the suit of armor, right at Catherine’s painting, down the stairs…It was foolish to retrace the steps I’d taken last time, but I had a feeling it didn’t matter which route I took. I’d end up in the same loop of hallways. The same walls mocking me and my inability to figure out the maze.
What if the only way out was through magic?
When Catherine’s painting came into view a second time, my shoulders fell slightly and I slowed to a stop, staring up at her solemn expression enviously.
Her likeness and memory were locked up tighter than a pharaoh's treasure within this place. But her body was free. Had she escaped the Lord of Bones? Would he be so broody if she hadn’t?
“Think, Rayven,” I whispered, voice barely audible to my own ears.
I’d broken out of the labyrinthine halls before with the help of the letter opener, even though it had led me somewhere far worse than the corridor. I didn’t have the knife to beg for answers—the Lord of Bones had taken it from me—but there was someone else I could ask.
