Page 128 of My Dark Divine
I taste the fear coursing through her, its grip tightening in her veins and gradually taking over. She’s scared of me, and that’s what turns her on.
“Drop to your knees, my girl,” I demand, weaving my fingers through her hair and grabbing a handful of strands. “I’ll give you everything you need.”
Without waiting for her to comply, I yank her down, forcing her onto her knees. She cries out, a sound of surrender blended with pure desire, her palms pressing against the floor as her eyes meet mine. I pull my pants down, and her gaze drops to myhands as I do, her tongue darting out as she slowly—so fucking slowly—wets her lips.
Fuck me. Intimacy with her is incredible, not just because of the pleasure we give each other, but also because of how much she invests in the process, offering all of herself to me as I do the same for her. I’ve told her that we’re equal, but I can’t help doubting my own words.
Who is she, if not a goddess who effortlessly breathes life into me?
“Give me that pretty mouth of yours,” I breathe, watching as she moves closer to my cock and wraps her lips around it. My eyes roll back when she swirls her tongue around the tip, hollowing her cheeks to suck up the pre-cum. “Fuck, that’s it, baby, make me feel good. Make me fucking proud of my wife.”
Her muffled moan wraps around my length. She explores every inch of me, her tongue a brushstroke, tracing paths up and down before returning to the tip. Her lips feel like the best thing I’ve ever experienced, sending me straight into fucking oblivion, and I can feel my knees weaken.
With each move she makes, my control unravels. Each second she grows bolder, pulling me from her mouth just to spit on my cock before her hand smears it across my length. My head falls back as she takes me all the way in, gagging with the effort while helping herself with her hand and giving me slow, long strokes. I want to see her eyes water, but I can’t focus on that—not when the sensation feels so fucking overwhelming. I become too tired to hold my head up, my muscles crying out in nagging pain that spreads in waves.
When her hand moves to my balls, kneading them and sending an electric ripple through me, I snap. Grabbing her by her hair, I yank her head back, forcing her to release me from her mouth. The loss of her warmth sends a wave of agony through my body.
But I don’t want to come. Not yet.
I pull my pants back on, ready to shift my attention. She’s panting as I lift her up and slam her back against the wall, sending a shudder through the room. My fingers reach for the hairpin, now hanging loosely from her dark strands, practically begging to be removed. A low laugh escapes my chest as I remove it and bring it to her face. “I remember what you did to me,” I say, watching fear etch itself onto her face. “You thought you could taunt me without consequences?”
Her mind is too clouded to process my intentions as my hand travels down, lifting her dress and exposing her bare pussy. She’s wearing no underwear, and for some fucking reason, it turns me on even more.
Twisting the sharp tip until it faces my palm, I place the hairpin between her legs and push it inside her. She squirms, crying out in discomfort, and I place my thumb on her clit, rubbing a slow circle across it. “Keep your legs open,” I command, barely containing a groan at how fucking wet she is. My thumb is seconds from sliding off. “Let it in.”
“West, you’re fucking insane!” she yelps, throwing her head back, her eyes closing as I balance her pain with pleasure. “Fuck, I can’t?—”
“Youcan,” I cut in, maintaining a steady, firm pace as I work it in slowly. “And you will take this punishment like a good fucking girl you are, Venetia.”
Gradually, with my measured pace, her body begins to relax, and she wraps her arms around my neck, seeking something to hold on to as I start to fuck her harder.
“What will you learn from this?” I ask, cupping the side of her face with my free hand and brushing my thumb across her cheek to wipe away the glistening tear.
“Don’t stab you,” she squeaks out weakly, a gasp tearing from her throat when I hit that spot. “I can’t stab you.”
The way she interprets it makes me laugh. She sounds so innocent, so fragile, especially when she’s trapped like this. “Not without my permission,” I correct her.
She lets out a soft whimper, her eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure crash over her, melting away all her tension. She opens up, like the first bud of spring blossoming under the sun’s touch, letting me in—her trust the only drug I’ll never stop craving.
I work the hairpin in and out, feeling her juices slick its length. Her face contorts with every thrust in a fucking masterpiece of surrender, telling me she’s close, and I struggle to hold myself back. Not being inside her when she’s practically begging for me to is torture—one I’m not sure how long I can endure.
My mouth is a force of its own, claiming her lips in a searing, bruising kiss. My tongue circles hers, and I press harder, feeling her lose control, her knees buckling, her nails digging into my shoulders in a desperate attempt to hold on.
Her throat tightens, and a little squeak breaks free as she tenses like a taut string. My final circle on her clit sends her spiraling, her cheeks burning crimson as she reaches her peak, her body convulsing around the hairpin. I feel the strain in her body, the desperate moans she can’t contain, and I push even deeper, drawing out her orgasm until she’s clawing at my face, begging for me to stop.
When I pull back, her body shudders with aftershocks, her hands clutching my neck. Her half-mast eyes follow me as I lift the drenched hairpin and suck it clean, desperate to prolong the sweet taste of her punishment.
A hard swallow travels down her throat, and her lashes flutter as the corners of her lips try to form a weak smile. “That makes us square,” she breathes, sounding like she’s on the verge of blacking out.
I laugh, dropping the hairpin to the floor before wrapping my hands around her waist and lifting her up. “I’m not done with you yet,” I say, and the intoxicating, mind-fucking fear returns to her face.
I carry her to the bathroom, where the second part of my little surprise is waiting, pausing briefly to scan the room once we enter. It’s bathed in the soft, seductive glow of neon lights, casting an ethereal hue that dances across every surface. The jacuzzi sits at the center, its water shimmering under the light, steam curling upward in delicate wisps. The colors shift, casting different shadows on the furniture and reflecting the glow off the sleek walls.
I’ve never paid attention to such things, but fuck, this place feels perfect for having her here.
I place her on the edge of the hot tub, and she doesn’t hesitate. Her little hands reach for my blazer, pulling it off before focusing on my shirt, stripping the rest of my clothes away. The shirt is only halfway unbuttoned when impatience takes over—I rip the fabric apart, ignoring the buttons as they scatter across the floor.
She gasps when I do the same to her dress which is no longer white.
