“Then how do you want it?” I ask. Without saying a word, she moves to the edge of the bed, forcing my knees to hit the floor before pressing her foot against my forehead. My stomach knots with worry as she slowly guides my face between her legs. “Venetia?—”
“You asked how I want it,” she cuts in, her lowered voice an intoxicating aphrodisiac. No one has ever taken this much control over me, and I can only comply, no matter how much of a coward I feel. “This is the answer, West. Don’t you think I deserve it?”
She does deserve it—all of it, and more. But it’s not that simple. “I… I haven’t done this stuff,” I confess, shame slicing through me as the words leave my mouth. Here comes the worst fucking part.
Disbelief spreads across her face as her brows arch toward her hairline. “At all?”
“No, not at all—” My voice trails off as I realize I’m only burying myself deeper. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. I might not be good at it.”
I’ve only done this once in my life, and I’m not sure I did it properly, because I didn’t feel anything. Maybe that’s the point—you’re supposed to make your partner feel good, not yourself. The woman I was with seemed to enjoy it—I could tell by how quickly she came—but I didn’t get much out of it.
“I want you to try for me,” she murmurs, leaning in as her hand slides through my hair in a soothing motion before cupping the side of my face and brushing her thumb across my cheek. “Can you try to make me feel good, West?”
Fuck. “Okay,” I whisper, nodding like the complete idiot I am. My gaze drops from her eyes back to her pussy, and I lick my lips, steeling myself to focus. She’s put in the effort and given me the most mind-blowing orgasms I’ve ever had. Ican’tafford to fuck this up.
Leaning in, I bring my lips closer to her, hovering just an inch from making contact with her pussy. She stills, a tremor running through her body, and I take a moment to savor the anticipation before finally pressing my mouth to her flesh. A breathless gasp escapes her, and her back arches slightly as I begin to trace paths across her folds. Her unique taste explodes on my tongue, fueling my hunger. Growing bolder, I wrap my hands around her thighs and toss her legs over my shoulders, never breaking contact with her pussy. I feel like an inexperienced fucking teenager, unsure of the right pace. What if she doesn’t like it slow? Or what if?—
“Stop thinking,” she interrupts, cutting through my thoughts. “For once, just… make me feel good, West.”
I tighten my grip on her thighs and bury my face deeper, ready to do better. “Spread your lips for me,” I command, kissing her softly, letting my touch linger for a moment as I savor her blooms. “Come on, baby.”
She sighs, clearly irritated, as her fingers trail down to part herself for me. I sense her reluctance, a spark of annoyance in her movements. She doesn’t like to be told what to do. “Wider,” I instruct, relishing the simmering anger that emanates from her.
My eyes close as I push my tongue inside her, groaning at the warmth and tightness of her. I take my time before pulling back to run it along her slit. I can’t see her face, but I can feel the way her eyes flutter shut, her breathy gasps filling the space. Her hand travels to my hair, gripping it tightly as she guides my face however she pleases.
“Rub your clit,” I murmur against her skin, alternating between lapping at her and kissing the flesh. “Play with yourself right in my face.”
A genuine, melodic moan rips from her chest—a sound that fills me with pride—as she obeys my command. For a moment, I stop to watch, mesmerized, as her finger finds the most sensitive bundle of nerves and begins to rub circles across it. My knees give way at the sight of her arousal glistening and dripping, and my mouth waters, unsatisfied, cravingmore.
“Get it juicy for me, baby,” I whisper, my words sending a ripple of sensation through her. She becomes more sensitive with every moment, and I can feel my patience wearing thin. “I’m fucking starving.”
The slick sounds of her playing with herself fill the room, and I lose all restraint as I crush my mouth against her pussy, drawing a loud, ecstatic cry from her throat. Unable to maintain the gentle rhythm from before, I pick up the pace, pressing her folds flush against my face so I can lick her deeper than before.
“Oh my fucking god—” She grips my hair tighter, anchoring me in place while her other hand stays busy with her clit. “Yeah, fuck, that’s agood boy?—”
A wave of electric heat from her praise surges up my spine, exploding into a shower of tingling sparks inside me. My skin flushes as I groan, the sound muffled by her cunt.
This woman. I’m not her good boy—I’m eight years older. And I know I shouldn’t feel anything from this, but I fucking do—her words travel all the way to my toes, driving me to push myself harder, to be everything she wants.
Even if it means being her good boy.
But I can’t allow her to take it all from me. Fighting against her grip, tingles swarm my scalp as I sink my teeth into her inner thigh in defiance. She squirms, her feet swinging at me, but Idisregard her small attempts to fend me off. I switch to the other thigh, making sure the marks will be vivid by morning.
When her voice cracks, my tongue returns to her slit. She slips back into bliss, her hold on my hair easing, which I take as my signal to go further. I press my face harder into her, reclaiming control as I catch her clit between my teeth, pulling it lightly to the side, then releasing and repeating.
“West!” she cries out, and the moan I let out reverberates through her body. As I continue to feast on her, her hand massages my scalp, delivering a sensation that feels like pure heaven. “Fuck, that’s it—You’re going to make me come?—”
A memory flashes through my mind, and without a second thought, I clamp down on her clit. Hard. She screams in a mix of agony and bliss, a convulsion rippling through her frame. Everything around me fades into mere background noise; the only thing that matters is the goddess I’m worshiping—the one I intend to break and mend in the way I need.
She wriggles against me, and I tighten my grip on her thighs, longing for her to wake up tomorrow with my bruises on every fucking inch of her skin. I clamp down again, then soothe the abuse with a kiss and lick the pain away, all while ignoring the sharp ache spreading across my scalp. The sweet sounds she makes bleed into my name as she pleads, torn between begging me to stop and wanting me to keep going. It’s a cycle of pleasure and agony, more profound than mere physical satisfaction.
She finds ecstasy in pain, just as I do.
I never realized how perfect she is. Venetia embodies so many traits—smart, pretty, hardworking—and those are the ones everyone notices. But those qualities pale in comparison to what lies beneath. Her true beauty is as tragic as it is captivating—a jagged soul that thrives on pain and transforms it into something far greater.
She was truly made for me.
My dark divine.
