Page 86 of Villainous Rise

My back arched off the bed, a strangled sound tearing from my throat. My cock throbbed painfully, so close to the edge I had to grit my teeth against the sensation. Not yet. This wasn’t about me.

“You like that?” Her voice was dark with satisfaction.

“Fuck yes,” I managed, clenching the sheets in both hands to keep from flipping her over and burying myself inside her. “Do it again.”

She obliged, finding another intersection of lines near my hip. The sensation shot straight through me, my hips bucking involuntarily.

Annie shifted and settled more firmly on top of me, her dress hiked up around her hips. The heat of her pressed against my abdomen, separated only by the thin barrier of her underwear.

“I hate that I still want you,” she whispered. “I hate that no one else makes me feel this way.”

I reached up, fingers tracing the edge of her mask. “They never will,” I promised.

Annie’s nails raked down my chest again, leaving fresh trails of fire across my skin. Her anger was beautiful. Each scratch was a confession, each bite an admission of how much I still affected her.

“Show me how much you hate me,” I growled, gripping her hips hard.

Her eyes flashed behind the mask as she shifted her position, hovering directly over my cock. She reached between us and pushed her underwear to the side.

“I do hate you,” she whispered and sank down onto me.

I groaned, my head snapping back against the mattress as my spine arched. Three months of starvation ended in a single slide of flesh.

She felt like a benediction, a damning grace I would slaughter armies to keep.

I was a junkie getting my first real hit after what felt like a lifetime without her. The withdrawal had nearly killed me, and now the high rushed through me, blotting out every calculation and plan I had spent the last ninety days working on.

I loved her. I loved her with a sickness that defied logic, a terminal condition I refused to cure.

Annie rolled her hips and I let her take everything she wanted from me. She rode me with a desperate rhythm, taking out every ounce of her frustration on my body. Her nails and teeth bit into me and I welcomed every bit of fleeting pain.

I thrust up to meet her downward stroke, burying my cock as deep as I could.

But beneath the pleasure the brutal truth gnawed at me. I had her body right now. I had her heat and her anger but I didn’t have her. Not completely.

I was only getting a stolen window into what it would mean to own her soul the way she already owned mine.

“Deeper,” she gasped.

I locked my hands on her hips and took over the rhythm. I drove up into her and slid my hands up her torso, tracing the tight bodice of her gown. I gripped her breasts through the fabric, squeezing hard. She cried out, a beautiful, broken sound that fed the darkest parts of me.

I pulled her down against my chest, one hand tangling in her hair to expose the curve where her neck met her shoulder. I dragged my teeth across the sensitive skin there, feeling her shiver before I bit down hard.

Annie’s entire body convulsed, her inner walls fluttering around my cock as she cried out. Not quite an orgasm, but close. So fucking close.

“Mine,” I snarled against her skin, tasting the salt of her sweat. I soothed the bite mark with my tongue. “You can hate me but you are fucking mine, Annie.”

“Again,” she demanded breathlessly.

I moved to a new spot and repeated the process. Drag, bite, soothe. Each time her pussy clenched around me until her movements grew erratic.

I bit the soft flesh of her breast pressed against her bodice, and that was it, the final push she needed. Her pussy clamped down on my cock in rhythmic pulses, her thighs trembling against mine.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. I planted my feet on the bed and drove upward, fucking into her with abandon while she was still coming. Each thrust pushed her higher, prolonging her pleasure while I chased my own.

“Fuck, Annie,” I groaned. “Three fucking months⁠—”

Her walls tightened around me again, milking my cock as I slammed into her once, twice more before exploding inside her. Three months of wanting her, needing her, culminated in pleasure so intense it bordered on fucking pain.