He buries his face in me. Loud, sloppy, starving. Tongue spearing deep into my cunt, sucking on my folds, slurping up every drop like he can’t get enough.
The wet, obscene sounds fill the room—sucking, licking, groaning into my cunt as I ride his face.
I’m shaking, completely held up by him, nails digging into his scalp. The orgasm hits me like a freight train, and Icome hard, crying out his name, pussy gushing around his tongue while my legs lock around his head. He keeps going, licking me through it, dragging out every twitch and whimper until I’m a trembling mess.
Then he’s moving again. He throws me back onto the bed, face shiny with my cum, eyes dark and wild. “You want the monster?”
“I want all of you,” I gasp, spreading my legs wider.
He grabs my waist and flips me onto my stomach, fist twisting in my hair, yanking my head back as he pulls me up onto all fours. The sting shoots straight to my clit, and he spreads my ass with both hands and dives back in—tongue dragging through my dripping slit, circling my asshole, then pushing inside my pussy, tongue-fucking me while he strokes his thick cock.
I moan shamelessly, pushing back against his face, chasing his tongue as he eats me from behind. The sounds are filthy—wet slurping, his groans vibrating against me, my own desperate noises filling the room.
Only when I’m right on the edge again does he pull away, grab my hips, and line up. There’s no warning, no gentle easing. Just one blunt, hard thrust that punches the air from my lungs as he buries himself to the hilt.
The stretch is devastating. He’s thick and long and so fucking deep I feel him in my stomach. My walls flutter and clench around the sudden, overwhelming fullness, trying to adjust to the brutal invasion. The burn is exquisite—pleasure edged with the slightest sting that only makes me wetter.
His rhythm isn’t fast, but it’s powerful—slow, punishing strokes that drag against every sensitive inch inside me.Each thrust bottoms out with a heavy slap of skin on skin, the head of his cock kissing the deepest part of me, forcing a broken moan from my throat. The force of it makes my breasts sway and the bed slam against the wall.
Every time he pulls back, I feel empty, aching. Every time he drives back in, I feel claimed, ruined,owned. The thick drag of his cock against my walls, the way he grinds deep at the end of each thrust, the wet, filthy sound of my pussy taking every inch—it’s all too much and not enough. Each thrust bottoms out with a heavy slap of skin on skin, his balls hitting my clit and sending sparks through me.
“You feel that?” he growls against my ear. “That’s the monster you asked for. He’s going to fuck you until you can’t walk, then he’s going to go paint the walls with her blood.”
I moan louder, pushing back to meet every brutal thrust. “Yes— God, yes. Harder.”
“Fuck, you’re creaming all over my cock.”
He reaches around and rubs my clit in tight, rough circles. The pressure builds fast—his thick cock stretching me open, his fingers working me, his filthy words in my ear. He leans over me, chest to my back, biting my shoulder as he keeps pounding.
“Come on my cock while I think about ripping her apart,” he growls. “Then I’m flooding this greedy pussy before I go finish it.”
The words hit different—dark, possessive, violent. The image of him covered in her blood, finally taking back everything she stole, crashes into the way he’s destroying my pussy. I come hard, screaming his name, walls clamping down around him, gushing and pulsing as the orgasm wrecks me. My whole body shakes, thighstrembling, pussy milking his cock like it never wants to let go.
He fucks me through it, deep and relentless, dragging it out until I’m whimpering and oversensitive. Then he slams in one last time and comes with a guttural groan, and I feel his cock jerk against my pussy walls, giving me his cum until it leaks out around his cock and drips down my thighs.
We stay locked together, panting, his chest pressed to my back, arms wrapped around me like he’ll never let me go. His cock is still buried deep, twitching inside me.
“Just one last time, Cherry-red,” he whispers against my neck, voice raw.
I turn my head and kiss him—slow, deep, tasting myself on his tongue.
“One last time,” I breathe. “Then forever.”
27
RETH
I’ve been in this room for twenty minutes. Back against the stone wall, arms crossed, the particular stillness I learned a long time ago—the kind that looks like patience but is actually something colder. Something that’s already decided how this ends.
Rowan kept his word. The address, the time, the route—everything delivered perfectly. Between burying myself inside Sophia, whispering every violent promise against her skin while I fucked her slow and deep, and reading the confirmation on that single sheet of paper, I’ve imagined a hundred different ways I’d do this. A hundred different ways I’d carve the years she stole from me out of her flesh. I never let myself fully believe this day would come. I hoped the way you hope for things you’ve stopped expecting.
The room is almost bare. Just the gilded chair in the center, brought in specifically so the first thing she sees when they drag her through that door is a throne that no longer belongs to her.
I hear them before I see them. Footsteps in the corridor—multiple, heavy, the specific cadence of people managing someone who isn't cooperating but has decided that not cooperating is beneath her. That tracks. Valeria doesn't struggle with things she can't win. She waits. She calculates. She finds the angle.
The door opens.
Two of Rowan's men. And between them, her.
