She turns her head, finds my mouth in the dark, then kisses me messy and deep.
“Always,” she breathes against my lips.
Hunter’s breathing turns ragged, the strokes faster now, the mattress protesting louder. He’s close already, just from hearing her say that, and I like knowing he’s getting off on the two of us fucking.
I start moving then–deep rolls of my hips, staying on our sides, keeping her pinned against me. Every thrust, every piercing catching inside her, every tug on her nipple or clit ring timed to make her shake. I talk the whole time, low and filthy, telling her how good she feels bleeding around my cock, how perfect she takes the pain, how I’m never leaving her like that again.
She comes first–quiet, intense, body locking up around me, a soft cry muffled against the pillow. The clench of her drags a choked groan out of Hunter–he’s coming too, sheets rustling as his hips jerk, breath hitching hard in the dark.
I follow right after her, buried deep, not thrusting–just pulsing inside her, holding her so tight I may crack one of her ribs.
“That’s it, Doll Baby, strangle me with your tight little cunt. Milk every last drop.”
Even when I’m wrung dry, and her walls loosen up, and my cock softens, I don’t pull out. I don’t let go. Not tonight. Tonight, I need something to hold onto, even if I know that ultimately, the weight may crush us both.
18
Arianette
Sleep partslike waves on the ocean, my body buoyant, like I’m floating over the sea. It’s the creak of the mattress, the give of springs, that reminds me I’m not adrift, but simply asleep, back in the bedroom at the House of Night.
Before I’m fully awake I feel the thick stretch of someone inside me–hot and hard–filling me so deep it drags a gasp from my throat before my eyes even flutter open. The room is still dark, taut with quiet, the only sounds our breaths mingling and the faint creak of the bed. It's dreamlike, edges blurred, my body warm and loose from sleep, slick with remnants of the last time I was claimed. He slides in easily, no resistance, just a lazy roll of hips that nudges deeper, sparking low heat in my core.
It's slow at first, matching the haze in my head–gentle thrusts that make my toes curl, his hand splayed possessively over my hip, holding me close while he grinds. I arch back into him instinctively,half-asleep, my mind floating in that surreal space between reality and reverie. His chest presses to my back, skin fever-hot, muscles shifting like coiled steel under me.
Then hunger takes him. A low growl rumbles from his throat, and suddenly he's flipping me onto my back, strong hands gripping my thighs, lifting my legs over his broad shoulders. The shift steals my breath—he's so much bigger like this, manhandling me effortlessly, spreading me wide as he pounds in, hard and relentless. The bed shakes, wet sounds filling the dark, his cock dragging fire along my walls with every brutal snap of his hips.
His mouth finds my breasts, worshiping–lips latching onto one nipple, tongue swirling the silver bar piercing through it before he tugs with his teeth, hard enough to make me whimper. He sucks hard, rolling the metal bar between his lips, and pinches the other until both are throbbing, swollen peaks under his rough palms. Pleasure-pain blooms hot, my fingers tangling in his short hair, pulling him closer even as my body jolts with each thrust.
He pulls out abruptly, leaving me quivering, and travels down my body like a shadow–kisses trailing fire over my stomach, hips, thighs. His breath ghosts hot over my clit, then his tongue is there, flat and insistent, lapping at the piercing ring, tugging it between his lips. He sucks the sensitive hood and flicks the metal with the tip of his tongue before delving lower to taste me fully. It's surreal, half a dream, his grunts vibrating against my folds, breath ragged, body on fire as he spreads my legs impossibly wider, shoulders shoving my thighs apart, muscles flexing like he's devouring me whole.
He surges back up, kisses me deep–his tongue invading, making me taste myself on him. Pussy. Copper. Salt. Him. I moan into his mouth, lost in the haze.
Then he's thrusting again, deeper,better, hitting that spot that whites out my vision, hips slamming home with possessive force. My body's molten, coiling tight, every nerve singing as he drives me higher. Grunts punctuate the air, his breath hot on my neck, hands everywhere–gripping and bruising.
I shatter first, an orgasm rippling through my body that feels sohot I might melt. My walls pulse wildly around him, a thick moan trapped in my throat.
He follows with a guttural groan, pulling out at the last second–thick spurts of cum painting my pussy warm and soft, pooling sticky on my folds. His fingers dip through the slick, sliding the mess up over my lips. I lick instinctively, salty and musky, then kiss him, tongues sliding through the shared taste.
"Is this a dream?" I whisper, lost and confused in the dark, heart hammering. "Damon?"
The weight above me freezes, then dissolves–solid heat turning to mist, slipping through my fingers like sand, and a shift ripples through the dark, subtle, but undeniable. I’m weightless for a breathless second, floating, carried on some unseen current until I’m gently anchored again. An arm–strong, familiar–reaches out, drags me close. Damon’s scent wraps around me, warm skin and soap, grounding me.
I blink up into the blackness, heart still racing. There’s… something. A presence lingering just beyond the edge of sight, a shadow that doesn’t belong to the room or to us.
Except it does.
“Daddy?” I whisper, pushing up on an elbow, voice small and uncertain in the quiet.
Nothing answers. Whatever I thought I felt is already gone, vanished like a dream pulled just out of reach.
Damon stirs behind me, half-asleep, and tugs me back down without a word. I curl into him willingly, cheek pressed to the steady rise of his chest, letting my fluttering heartbeat slow against the calm thud-thud, thud-thud of a man caught in the threads of a deep sleep.
The rain hammersthe tall glass windows of the student center like it’s trying to get in, turning the world outside into a gray blur. Inside, it’s chaos–every table crammed with students hiding from thedownpour, laptops open, coffee cups steaming, voices overlapping in a constant hum. The air smells like wet coats and burnt espresso.
I’m tucked into a corner booth with Damon, waiting for Hunter’s class to let out. We were supposed to meet by the fountain, but no one’s braving that storm. Damon’s hand has been on my leg since we sat down, his palm warm through my jeans, thumb dragging lazy lines up the inside of my thigh. Every pass sends heat in two directions, a hot streak licking up my spine and a throb in the new piercing. I can’t stop replaying last night—how he pulled me into his bed without asking, the way his body curved around mine, hard and possessive. He’d beengreedy. When he finished, he didn’t roll away; he kept me pinned close, arm locked around my waist like he was afraid I’d vanish, and fell asleep still buried in my hair. It felt… safe. Different.
I barely remember the second time–dream-hazy, half-conscious–but my body held the truth. I woke sticky, sore in the best way, his cum just starting to flake between my thighs.
