Pretty Perfect Toy - Angel Payne Page 0,8

the repeat. He answers with a new pound of his lips over mine. Our tongues battle. Our mouths wrestle. By the time we break apart, we are breathing hard—and fucking harder. His desire ropes around me. His heat soaks into me. His cock controls me—completely.

My world narrows, becoming only the light of our union…the lightning of his body, striking over and over again, promising a cataclysmic cloud break…

“Oh…” I choke it out, fingernails making tracks down his spine, emulating the electricity building along mine. “All right; all right! I am begging. I am begging.”

“For what?” He kisses me again. His lips are gentler but his breaths are sharper. “You know what I want, Mishella.”

I gulp again. Dammit, I do know. He wants the words. Not just any syllables. He wants all the filthy, naughty phrases from my dark, dirty fantasies…the fantasies only he knows how to fulfill…

“I am begging…”

He growls when I hesitate. Does not surrender a beat of his body’s rhythm. “And I am waiting.”

“I—I am begging to come. For you to fuck me until I do. Until my pussy soaks every inch of your cock, then vibrates around it until—until—oh!”

He grunts hard. I shudder harder. Something in the way he angles down and in, merging us in a tighter grind, converges every nerve in my clit and inch of my sex. I fall deeper into the cave, bouncing against the walls, stumbling toward the abyss at its core, where nothing but sensation and consummation await. I pant hard as I hurtle toward it, letting the bittersweet pressure mount inside. My buttocks quiver. My thighs clench. My vision turns into stars, forming a dizzying frame around his beautiful, unmerciful face.

“Now.” The brace of his hand, thumb against my chin and fingers along my jaw, hauls me deeper into the darkness. “Your cunt will come for me now, Mishella.”

And I am falling. Throbbing. Vibrating.

Bursting.

Screaming…

Though muffled at once by his mouth, sucking in my ecstasy like a parched man at an oasis—while his body continues to pump, brutalizing me like a sheikh with his concubine. Creator help me, just the thought enflames me again, especially as he peels back more of my dress, baring my breasts for his new licks and suckles. The moment he draws my nipple between his teeth, my second climax hits, twice as violent as the first—then a third, as he boldly presses my clit with the pad of his thumb. By the time he is finished, I am a shuddering, sobbing mess, coming apart beneath him like melted sugar.

Only he is not finished.

I am melted sugar but he is still a stalk of hard cane—and ruthlessly uses that fact to his advantage. He looms over, capturing my gaze with his brilliant emerald focus, working my body with his knowing strokes. At the end of each plunge, he hitches his hips up and in, knowing exactly what place, so deep inside, he is determined to stimulate. My body reacts beyond the realm of my mind, coming for him yet again, answering instincts older than the cathedrals these stones used to be a part of. My head falls back, my gaze flying into the indigo sky, shooting my senses to the realm of the stars. While I have never felt more connected physically—maybe because of that—I have never flown farther spiritually. Every inch of me vibrates at a new frequency, echoing harmonies as perfect and beautiful as my love for the creature who has brought me here…

The man now surging deeper into me.

Stretching me.

Throbbing deeper than he ever has before.

Then groaning, harsh and low, his breath filling my ear…his essence erupting in my sex.

“Fuck,” he grates. “Fuck.”

One of his hands wraps around my head. The other is still flat between our bodies, finding the tender pearl at my center…coaxing it with harsher tugs, unstopping and unforgiving, bringing fresh flutters to the channel in which he is still embedded so tightly.

“Cassian!” I grab him, though am unsure whether to welcome him or punch him. It is so much. Too much. “I—I cannot—”

“You can.” His snarl shakes the chest upon which I am now pressed. “You will.”

Tears stab my eyes. The sensations he elicits…they begin to demand more than orgasms. A more I am not sure how to give—or if I can give. Not holding the knowledge that I do now.

Not while I still look the whale in the eye.

Not while I think of a faceless ghost named Lily—and the fact that she once wore Cassian’s wedding ring.

And the fact