Every inch of his torso lined up against me, his cock nudging at my sensitive wetness. I bit his lip, drawing blood to the surface again as his hands entangled in my hair. I needed his dick inside me, needed him to fuck me rough and dirty.
As he moved to bite my neck, I caught a glimpse of the crescent blood marks on my thighs from his nails, the bruises his hands had already left there. He yanked my hair to expose my neck further and pulled my breast from beneath the lingerie with the other hand. I gasped with the pleasure of his teeth on my peaked nipple, his harsh touch making me spiral.
I reached between us, grasping his cock with both hands and squeezing as I stroked him. Air hissed between his teeth when he pulled back to look at me, and I gave him a smirk.
“Fuck me like you hate me, hunter,” I dared. “Give me what’s mine.”
Damon shoved me backward, his hand pressing my face into the desk, thrusting inside me. Both of us cursed, and for a few seconds, Damon didn’t move. He paused like he was adjusting himself, letting me adjust to him. My pussy ached with the stretch and fill. Damn him for feeling so delicious. I rocked my hips up to meet his, letting him in deeper, and he pulled out—nearly to the tip—before pounding back inside me. Again. Again. And again. Each time with more power than the last.
“Yes,” I called out as his fingers hooked onto my hips. His pace picked up, though the savageness of his thrusts did not dwindle. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His face twisted as he held himself on the edge.
I clawed my way up his chest, making sure to scratch open his skin as I did, and I kissed him hard. Teeth clashed, our tongues battling for dominance. He slapped my ass, causing me to pull up on his shoulders and moan into his mouth.
“That’s right,” I said. “Harder.”
He spanked me again, his calloused hands raking over my bare flesh. I reached for his face, squeezing his cheeks between my fingers again.
“Harder,” I breathed. “Make me see stars.”
I wanted him to rip me in half.
His hand slammed down on my sternum and held me against the table as he fucked me, just like I wanted. Rough and savage and downright unforgiving—as if he meant to crack my chest and pelvis with his moves. I screamed, unable to control myself, and with my scream, the mansion shuddered, the candles flickered, and my mirror trembled.
“Right there—Fuck, yes, hunter—” I grabbed the lip of the desk behind me as my back arched off the wood, my end at that edge.
“Shit, Mary—I’m—”
I came around his cock, and he spilled inside me just after. Breath escaped me as it did him, and Damon collapsed against my chest.
Our sweat mingled when he lay atop me. I ran my fingers through his hair, pushing the damp strands back. My mouth was dry and sticky with saliva, but I managed to speak softly.
“Take us to the armchair,” I requested.
Damon straightened and inhaled deeply. He pulled from within me, his cum dripping from my pussy. For a moment, he simply stared. I knew I was red, swollen, and bruised from his fucking, and I loved the way he looked at what he’d done to me.
I dragged my finger delicately down his cheek, prompting him to look at me. “You did so well, my love,” I said. “So, sowell.”
CHAPTER EIGHT - MARY
DAMON MOVED US to the armchair, where I sat on his lap and hummed a song as I traced the scars on his chest, occasionally pushing his hair back or kissing his neck. There were a few scars on his chest that intrigued me, the ones that were rounder and indented rather than raised.
“Tell me about these,” I said as I rubbed over one.
“Why?” he said, breaking out of his daze.
“I’m curious,” I replied, and he cocked a brow at me. My mouth curled at the right corner, remembering our earlier conversation.
“Tell me about yours,” he said. “I’ll tell you about mine.”
“I like bargains,” I said with a shrug as I drew a line down his cheek. “The stories about me are all true. All the blood they say is on my hands is real. I’ve tortured so many that I’ve lost count… but I still remember their screams. Most of my scars came before I was killed.”
“How?” he asked.
I didn’t respond at first. The memories of those days before I took matters into my own hands poured through me and chilled my insides. But a bargain was a bargain.
“My father had a fondness for the whip,” I admitted. “While my younger brothers were out doing whatever they pleased, I was stuck inside being told how to serve wine and treated like some trophied prize to marry off. But each scar he put on me tainted and broke me for every man who came along. Eventually, he gave up. And when he died, while I thought I was free of his tyranny, I was wrong. My brothers, no matter how much younger they were than I, thought they, too, deserved the right to strike me.” I paused to look at Damon, considering the way he looked at me then. “In the end, they screamed for me just like they always told me I would for them.”
“And this one?” Damon asked, running a finger over my cheek.
