Page 10

Precum mixes with saliva, soaking my lips and dripping down my neck. I take what oxygen I can, but my lungs are starting to burn again. Cain takes shallow, but strong thrusts towards the back of my throat. His eyes locked in with mine as he grips my hair and strokes my nape, comforting me while inflicting pain. However, the pain in my lungs has diminished the pain in my back.

“Fuck you feel so good,” his voice is hoarse, almost gravelly, “your mouth was made for me.”

In and out. In and out. Cain uses my tongue for friction, and while I think I might pass out, I take great pride in being the one who brings him this pleasure, making him look so erotic. His hair is messy, his eyes hooded, and he’s biting his lower lip. His sharp features look lethal at night.

Cain’s cock thickens in my mouth, his breathing picks up, and his thrusts become more eager. He gives me a breath, then takes it away again. His lip lifts in a snarl, a salty taste erupts over my tongue, and I swallow, gagging for a moment when my throat constricts Cain’s crown. Cain takes a deep breath, loosens his hold on my hair, and strokes my nape while he rides out his orgasm.

“You are a drug, Kitten. I don’t know how I’ll ever come down from this,” he says as he slips out of my mouth. I swallow and take several sharp breaths until I can breathe somewhat normally again. Cain puts himself together, tucking himself in and binding the zipper, button, and belt. “Your turn.”

Cain grabs my arms, lifting me to my feet and throwing me back against a wide tree. My chest rises and falls in the same depth as when he was fucking my mouth, and I notice my nipples have hardened from the cool exposure, and the throbbing between my legs is still there.

I suck in a breath when he slams his mouth to mine. Thrusting his tongue into my mouth to dance with my own, then bites on my lower lip, sucking it between his own. He paws at my breasts, my waist, then he lowers himself to his knees and throws my right leg over his shoulder. I tense, placing my hands on his shoulders, holding my arms straight out.

“C-Cain,” my voice comes out so deep and full of lust, I don’t recognize it, “I’ve never done this…”

We tried, once. That night he stole my headphones and caught me listening to Ella Red. He tried to drag me off to the green room after we went out with everyone, but Pru got in the way.

“Mmm,” he rumbles, moving his hands up along my thigh, “I’m going to be all of your firsts, Kitten.” His lips brush along my sensitive skin, his teeth nipping at my fitted boxers. Cain bites and tears at the material, ripping them to shreds like an animal. Then he fists his destruction, stuffing them in his pocket. “These are mine.” Then his mouth is on me, my most intimate parts. I slam my hands down onto his shoulders for support.

Cain kisses my swollen folds with a wide, open mouth, and I buck, only now seeing how desperate I was for this touch. He opens, then closes, licking along the way. It’s all too much, the adrenaline from the chase and the pain, to pleasuring him. My middle convulses as my hips begin jerking to meet his tongue as it glides along my clit and then darts inside of me. I’m not going to last long, there’s no way. His strong fingers grip my thighs, and I’m grateful for the support.

“Cain…” My voice comes out breathy, desperate. He thrusts his tongue deep inside of me and then runs it through my folds and over my clit. I’m already so close. My head is spinning as I try to learn how to breathe while being devoured by him.

“You’re my new favorite meal,” his dirty words vibrate against my clit, and I’m nearly thrown over the edge. My hips jerk, unintentionally chasing my pleasure against his mouth.

Everything comes crashing down. My middle convulses, my hips jerk erratically, and my body trembles as the orgasm moves through me in dangerous waves. Cain continues to kiss and lick as I ride out my pleasure, but it’s all too much.

“Cain…” I whisper, as my limbs give out on me and I make out Cain’s warm chuckle as I collapse into Cain’s arms.

“I’ve got you, Kitten.”

Through my haze, I feel Cain scoop me up bridal style. He walks me back through the woods, the garden, then the manor. My torn dress draped over me, so my naked body is concealed from any potential passersby. He brings me to his room, shuts the door behind us, and lays me down on my stomach. Cain fetches some first aid items from a cabinet: antiseptic, pain-relieving cream, a washcloth, gauze, and a wrap.

“Can’t have this getting infected,” he says as he begins to clean my wounds that he inflicted. He’s gentle, but even his soft touch makes me wince. “It will feel a bit better in the morning; you’ll need to come back for another cleaning and some more pain reliever.” When he finishes, he stares down at his work, “my favorite fucking canvas. You’re stunning.” Glancing over my shoulder, I see him ghost his hand over my back, “It’s my interpretation of Starry Starry Night.” Cain offers me his hand, and I take it, rising to my wobbly feet. He walks me to his mirror, and I’m blown away. I never imagined that cuts and bruises could create something so beautiful. He lets me study it for a moment before applying the pain cream and wrapping my entire torso in gauze. When he’s finished, he goes to his bureau and pulls out a dress.

My stomach sinks. Why would he have a woman’s dress in his drawers?

It’s a deep plum purple, with long sleeves, and a stretchy but fitted weave. He bunches the material and helps me slip in.

“Whose dress is this?” His hand stops at my hips, and he runs his thumb up and down in a soothing rhythm.

“It was my mom’s…” My stomach sinks for a whole different reason.

“I’ll clean it and get it back to you tomorrow.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Keep it. She loved you, and it’s just sitting there.”

Taking my hand in his, Cain walks me to Pru’s door. Tonight was by far one of the best experiences of my life. I have to fight off the feeling of being completely gutted knowing that tomorrow everything will go back to the way it always is. He won’t look at me, won’t talk to me; it’s as if everything we have done together didn’t happen. As if I’m not there. Now is my final moment of bliss before I go back to being a façade. Nothing more than a living, breathing person who does the things she enjoys, but can’t find any enjoyment in it.

“Well, goodnight.” I reach for the knob, and Cain tugs me back by my hand.

“Don’t drink with Pru.” He swallows, and I tilt my head.

“Why? I never drink much.”

“Because I don’t want you drinking.” Cain gathers a lock of my hair and twirls it between his fingers.

“Okay,” I agree. What other reason does he need? I don’t particularly enjoy the feeling, or the taste. I don’t have to do what he wants. But I want to.