The pain that makes me come.
Wet, sucking heat envelops my nipple, followed by the tightening of teeth.Moaning, I arch my back, fisting the bedding.I’m still sitting up right now, but a forceful hand in the area of my collarbone swiftly puts a stop to that.The mattress shifts as I fall backwards onto it.My breasts would normally bounce with the movement, but Curse has full control of them, his mouth on one side, hand on the other.The sensitivity of my own body astounds me.My nerves come to life when I am with him.Like I’m some kind of rare flower that can only bloom under the black dome of his night.
His teeth drag lower, not stopping until they reach my clit.It’s there that he pauses, his teeth hovering over that throbbing place like a promise.I’m already a mess beneath him, shuddering and writhing, destroyed by nothing more than his ragged breath on my slick skin.I’m about to plead with him, to say, “please,” when I remember that he ordered me not to.
But I have to do something.I’m burning up; it’s so bad I think my very bones might combust.Like I’ll be nothing but ash by the end of this.I drive my fingers into his hair, rocking pitifully, begging him with my body if I can’t do it with words.
Tongue and teeth hit my clit at the same moment, sucking, biting; delicious, demanding agony that my body surges to meet.He keeps going like that, alternating soft and hard, pleasure and pain.I’m already on the verge of coming, already shaking with the need to fall apart, when he suddenly stops.Cold air hits my skin.Followed by the firm heat of his hips.
“You’re wet enough,” he rasps.“And it turns out I can’t fucking wait after all.”
And then, it’s all tension, all heat.All resistance.I want him deep inside, but my body won’t obey, tightening in response to the overwhelm.Curse slows, but does not stop, shunting himself inexorably forward, millimetre by unyielding millimetre, every muscle in him straining.I am straining, too.Straining to try to accommodate him, straining with the need to run from the slicing sting, straining with the need to come.I’m still right fucking there, trembling on that terrible edge, as he grinds harder and further into my body.
He collapses onto his elbows, bracketing my head with his forearms.
“Let me in, angel,” he commands.His body shudders violently.“Let me in.Or I will fucking break my way in.”
If anyone could do it, it’s him.He can pick any lock.Force open any door.Steal into any secret place, no matter how protected.
He’s the only one I’ve ever desired with this part of my body.The only one who’s ever managed to make me want this.
He doesn’t need to break in.He doesn’t need to steal what I wish to give him.With a staggering pulse in my core, my muscles unlock, and he finally finds his way.
He’s all the way inside me now.Fully sheathed, his pelvis flush with mine.A broken sound tears from him then, a sound that makes me think that he is tortured by this.That, somehow, he’s in as much delirious pain as I am.I don’t see how that can possibly true.Not when I can feel the white-hot sear of my torn flesh stretching to accommodate him.But I can’t shake the idea.The idea that this torments him.
He remains propped on his elbows, his breath coming in shattered gusts across my face, his chest hair scraping the taut points of my nipples.When he moves again, it’s a hot spasm, a frantic thrust forward, as sudden as the arcing lightning outside.He fucks forward experimentally, groaning when I tremble and squeeze him response.It’s all I can do to lie there and take it, my fingernails digging into his shoulders until I’m sure I’ve broken the skin.
How many people have ever made Curse Titone bleed?
I don’t get to revel in the opportunity.He suddenly shoves upwards, drawing himself onto his knees, clasping my legs to his chest, my ankles at his shoulders.This new angle is astonishing, it’severything.
“You feel that, angel?”he rasps, fucking harder, faster.“Feel me inside you, feel me filling that perfect fucking place I should never have gotten close enough to even dream of touching?Fuck.”
Lightning and thunder collide outside the window until I can’t tell what is sound and what is light.The only thing I’m sure of is him; the hot knife of his desire in my body; his terrible, beautiful words.He keeps speaking, his voice so wracked by tension – or maybe, shockingly, by emotion – that it nearly cracks.“Your pussy’s like a temple to me.You’re a fucking church I never should have been allowed to enter.”
I’m so wet.I don’t know how much of it is blood.Climax is quaking.A spark at the edge of my vision.Just out of reach.
“But I’m here anyway,” Curse groans.“I’mhere.”The rhythm of his thrusts begins to unravel, and it’s as if he’s relying on his own words now to keep some kind of consistency in them.“And I’m not leaving until I’ve fucking-”thrust!“-taken-”thrust!“-everything.”
The brightest bolt of lightning yet sends the room, and everything in it, flying into stark contrast.For an obliterating instant, Curse appears to me in his brutally magnificent entirety.He’s coming, and I can feel it,seeit.See the twist of his taut muscles.The dark shapes of his tattooed fingers digging possessively into my shins.The slackened look of feverish delirium on his face.
Lightning’s never been known to stick around.It’s electric devastation in the span of a second.
But in that second, Curse’s harrowed eyes find mine.And when they do, excruciating pleasure pours through me, as if something has been broken, as if from behind a dam.I come as if Curse has commanded it.With nothing but those eyes.
My climax peaks at the same moment that the lightning vanishes.I scream into the void of the room, scream until there is nothing left.
Because he has taken everything.
Just like he promised that he would.
Chapter17
Curse
Aurora is so limp when I lay her legs down that, for a brain-melting moment, I think she might be unconscious.But she reacts when I pull out of her, giving a tiny little mewl and shivering.The lights come back on, showing me that the condom and the base of my cock, as well as her inner thighs and the creamy duvet beneath, are stained crimson.
The sight of her bloodied like this is a wedge somebody’s pounded right into the centre of my being.It’s fucking cleaving me in two.Because half of me revels in the brutality of it, half of me loves to see how much I’m ruining her.That putrid part of me that is only soothed by pain, that can only fully exhale with my hands around another person’s throat, is goddamn exultant.
