to touch him, I reached down and ran my hands through the ebony strands. His hair was like silk between my fingers, and I tried to be gentle. But when Arthur exchanged his relentless tongue for his teeth, he bit down on my clit, and stars burst before my eyes at the addictive cocktail of hedonism and pain.
His fingers bit into my thighs, and I yanked on his hair. A sharp, sex-fuelled grunt slipped from Arthur’s lips, evidence of his need sneaking through his impenetrable walls. That sound … that slip of the shield he seemed to forever wear was like a match to petrol. I pulled on his hair as his tongue slid inside me, pushing, licking, swirling. I moaned, unable to take it, take his tongue and all the things I’d never felt before. Arthur pushed a finger inside me and bit down on my clit again. That was all it took for me to splinter apart.
My skin was a furnace, and I had just reached the height of my orgasm when Arthur stood and pulled his cock from his shorts. My breasts ached to be touched, and I squeezed my nipples as my pussy clenched, holding on to the remnants of pleasure.
My eyes widened when I saw his cock—he was thick and long and bigger than I’d ever had before. Arthur threw his shirt to the floor and stroked his cock before caging me in with his arms and fixing his gaze on mine. His nostrils flared, and just as I reached up to lay my palm on his stubbled cheek, he slammed inside me. My lips parted and I cried out at the intrusion, at the fullness and the slight pain that came with taking someone so big. I was far from a virgin, but I felt as though this man, Arthur Adley, the apparent devil himself, had just torn through my innocence and shredded the memory of all past lovers.
It was him and me and the pulsating darkness. Arthur wasn’t soft or slow. He fucked me. Hard. He fucked me like the living demon he was rumoured to be—rough and wild and with unmerciful intent.
“Arthur,” I whispered. As soon as I spoke, he moved a hand to my throat and wrapped it around my neck so I couldn’t speak again. A light sparked in his eyes as he squeezed. I felt all his incredible strength in that single grip. There was a sinful gleam in his gaze as he held me at his mercy, perched precariously between fucking me and killing me if he desired.
He squeezed tighter until I could only breathe a little, but I didn’t fear him. I wanted him to push me as far as I could go; I wanted every fucked-up part of this man. If this was the only night I would ever have Arthur, I wanted him in all his raw entirety. I wanted the devilry, I wanted the sadism, and I wanted this man, the man who had made a grown man cut off his own dick, to fuck me with equal amounts of depraved ease.
I arched, tilting my head back, offering him my neck. I wanted him to have it—I wanted him to push me to my limits and fuck me like I was the last pussy he would ever have. A low, feral groan tore from Arthur’s mouth, and his free hand took my throat too. He pounded into me harder, as if he was exorcising the good from me.
I would be sore. The way he slammed inside me promised bruises and discomfort, but right now, in this suspended, surreal moment, he filled me like no one before, hard flesh scraping against my G-spot, making me lose my mind.
Arthur moved his face closer to mine, his nose brushing my nose. His eyes were locked on mine as he held my neck like it was his possession, like it was his right to break me if he so wished. Beads of sweat built on his forehead, a lock of his onyx hair falling in front of his eyes. I trailed my hands up his toned bare thighs, needing to touch him. His fingers flexed on my neck as my hands travelled higher, but didn’t tighten. My eyes fluttered at the deep feelings accosting my body, but I fought to keep them open. I didn’t want to miss a second of being with Arthur, of being taken like this—so brutally, so thoroughly, so perversely.