His tongue is hot, broad, and skilled. He finds my clit instantly, swirling around it with a relentless, punishing rhythm.
My back arches off the mattress. I tug at the handcuff, the metal biting into my wrist, but I don't care. I need anchor. I need something to hold onto because the world is spinning away from me.
"Silas!"
He ignores me. He grips my thighs with his hands, pinning me in place, ensuring I can't escape his mouth. He feasts on me. He devours me like a man starving, like I am the only sustenance left in a dying world.
It’s too much. It’s too intense.
"Please," I beg, thrashing my head on the pillow. "It’s too much... I can't..."
He hums against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my core. He sucks harder.
I am unraveling. The shame is burning away, replaced by a white-hot fire that consumes everything—my morals, my fear, my resistance. There is only him. There is only his mouth and the pressure building inside me like a storm.
"Come for me," he orders, his voice muffled against my flesh. "Let me taste it."
I sob, my free hand gripping the sheets, my knuckles turning white.
"Yes... yes... oh God..."
The climax hits me like a freight train.
It shatters me. I scream his name, my body convulsing violently, spasms of pleasure rocking through me that are so intense they border on pain. I see stars. I see black.
He drinks it all. He holds me through the tremors, licking, soothing, claiming every drop of my release.
When I finally settle, limp and gasping, tears streaming down my face, he pulls back.
He crawls up my body, his face wet with me. He looks demonic. He looks holy.
He kisses me again, tasting myself on his lips. It’s degrading. It’s intimate. It binds us together in a way that words never could.
"You taste like mine," he whispers against my lips.
He pulls back to look at me. His eyes are blown wide, the pupils swallowing the blue.
He moves his hips.
He is fully hard now. A rock-hard ridge pressing against my thigh.
"Ivy," he says. His voice is strained, tight with control that is rapidly snapping. "I’m going to fill you."
My eyes widen. "Silas..."
"I need to be inside you," he says, his forehead resting against mine. "I need to feel you around me. I need to know that you’re empty without me."
He reaches down and guides himself to my entrance.
He is big. Too big.
"It won't fit," I whisper, panic fluttering in my chest again.
"It will," he promises. "You were made for me."
He pushes.
Just the tip. It stretches me, filling me in a way that feels impossible. I gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders to push him away, but he catches my free hand and pins it to the mattress above my head.
