Page 18 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

“Fuck it,” I mutter, pulling up my t-shirt and yanking it over my head before I can think too much about it. The cooler air hits my nipples, tightening them further.

“Damn, Edie. Look at you,” Dorian says, focusing on my tits, just like I’m focusing on his cock.

Like his nipples, the crown of his dick is pierced with a silver bar, and the underside has several piercings, too. I think there’s three, maybe four bars. Just thinking about how it would feel to have him inside of me, those bars adding much needed friction inside my poor, neglected vagina, has her weeping for him.

“You’re perfect,” he continues, spitting into his hand before grabbing his dick and fisting it. “I wish I was there with you. I want to touch you, taste you. I want to come all over your chest.”

“Jesus,” I whimper, my breaths coming thick and fast as I watch him masturbate. It’s the single hottest thing I’ve witnessed in my entire life, and I think I might combust if I don’t try to ease the pressure between my legs.

“Say my name, Edie. I want you to say my name. I want to come,” Dorian says, his voice hoarse, his hand moving faster as the other pulls on that delicate chain dangling between his nipples.

His demand unleashes something in me, a stubbornness, yes, but beneath that, a hunger for control. I was powerless in my previous marriage. My happiness was at the mercy of a man who barely noticed me. Love made me fragile, it weakened me. I never want to go back there again. I need to be in control.

“No,” I say, shifting forward in my seat.

“Did you just tell me not to come?” Dorian asks, his abs flexing as he pumps his dick harder, the mixture of anger, surprise and lust in his gaze intoxicating.

“You’re not used to being told what to do, are you?”

“I’m not,” he bites out.

“So, why aren’t you disobeying me and coming all over your pretty dick?” I ask, my mouth running away with me as something illicit and dangerous uncoils inside my chest. It’s as though a part of me I’ve suppressed for years now is finally free to blossom. I like how that makes me feel.

“I don’t fucking know. This isn’t the way it was supposed to happen,” he grinds out, that anger, that lust, that desperation turning me on even more.

“You thought you could order me to strip, to touch myself, to come on your command, didn’t you?” I say, needling him.

“Yes,” he snaps, the veins on the back of his hand and forearms popping beneath his skin as he tugs roughly on his dick. “That’s exactly what I thought would happen.”

“Well, here’s what’s going to happen instead,” I say, my tongue peeking through my lips as I lick them slowly, imagining it’s his dick they’re tasting. “You’re going to stroke your cock for me. You’re going to pull on that delicate chain and you’re going to feel your orgasm building. You’re going to be so turned on you’re going to want to blow your load imagining yourself buried inside my pussy that’s so damn wet for you right now⁠—”

“Edie, what the fuck are you doing to me?” he groans.

“But you are not going to come until I tell you to. Am I clear?”

His eyes widen, his chest heaves, and the crown of his dick deepens in colour to a berry red, as though my words have sent another rush of blood to the tip.

“Fuck, Edie. I think I’m going to come right now,” he exclaims, his head tipping back as he bares his neck to me, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down beneath his skin.

“No,” I say, shifting forward in my seat, my heart pounding.

“Edie…” he whines, and my clit throbs so hard that I have no choice but to slip my hand into my knickers and press my fingers against it to relieve some of the pressure.

“If you come before I let you, you will never see me again,” I warn, my finger rubbing hard against my clit as my own orgasm builds within me. I’m slick with want, desperate for this man, but determined to remain in control. Needing him to obey me.

“Then I won’t come. I’ll do as you ask,” he bites out, dropping his head. A bead of sweat slowly traces a path over his temple as he slows the tempo, his fingers strangling his cock, no doubt in an attempt to delay his orgasm. “I want to see you again. I have to see you again, Edie. You’re fucking incredible, do you know that?”

“Oh, fuck,” I hiss, his praise forcing a moan from my lips.

Dorian’s gaze sharpens. “Are you finger-fucking yourself?” he asks, shifting forward and pressing his forearm against his desk.

His pupils are dilated, strands of his slicked back hair falling into his eyes. From this angle I can’t see his cock, but I know he’s still fisting himself by the way his arm moves beneath him. His eyes are pinched and his lips clamped tight. But he hasn’t come, not yet, and that makes me feel powerful. He’s holding back for me, because I asked him too, because he wants to see me again.

Damn, that does something to me.

“Edie, are you finger-fucking yourself?” he repeats, his voice strained.

“Yes,” I reply, pushing back my chair and standing.