Page 107 of Goldflame
I don’t hesitate, stripping before him while he remains in bloody, torn slacks.
Once I’m naked, he grips the base of his cock, showing me how he’s still hard and eager to come. Showing me the mess I’ve made. “Now clean me off.”
I sink to my knees.
Adrian stands over me, powerful and unyielding. I look up at him through tangles of my red hair and smeared makeup; I see the way his jaw sets as I open my mouth to take him in.
“Fuck,” he breathes. Gratitude or greed, I can’t tell which.
I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, guiding it past my lips, letting him fill me completely. He tastes like salt and skin and the violence we’ve committed together.
He fists his hand in my hair, pushing deeper until he hits the back of my throat. Then he pushes down, cutting off my oxygen. I’m choking on him and loving every second of it.
“Take it all,” he says.
I choke around his girth, trying to breathe but not caring enough to stop. He thrusts hard and fast—unrestrained—and each motion makes my pussy throb with renewed need.
Tears spring to my eyes as he drives himself further than I think possible, hitting that point where air doesn’t matter as much as pleasure does. Where nothing matters but having every part of him inside me.
“Goddamn,” Adrian gasps above me, pulling out just long enough for me to catch a desperate breath before thrusting back in with primal force. My hands grip his thighs for balance as he fucks my mouth without mercy.
My moans vibrate against his cock; his low groan tells me how close he is. Then my own need becomes too unbearable, so I begin rubbing circles around my clit.
“Don’t,” he says once he notices. “When you come again, it’ll be around my cock.”
He pulls out quickly; I collapse forward onto trembling hands as cool air rushes over my flushed skin. My pulse pounds in my ears; my mouth still tinglesfrom the rawness of him. But even like this—used up and breathless—I want more.
Always more with Adrian.
Without warning, he positions himself behind me as I’m on all fours. Then he’s shoving himself into my sore, aching pussy.
I cry out and he begins fucking me right here on the floor. We’re both sweaty, both bloody, both on the verge of ecstasy as my body clenches around him, taking him deeper than before, milking every last shred of control from him.
“Fuck,” he growls. “You feel too fucking good.”
I let out a high, desperate gasp as his pace quickens, as my body surrenders to the punishing rhythm. Then his fingers twist into my hair and he yanks me back hard; the sharp pain blends with pleasure and sends me crashing over the edge. My orgasm tears through me, muscles pulsing and body thrashing.
His breath is ragged and uneven. “Are you ready for me? I’m going to fill you up until you’re dripping with my cum.”
I moan out his name and he drives into me one last time, spilling himself inside with a groan that’s pure relief. I feel his cum leaking down my thighs, hot and thick, marking me in ways I never knew I wanted.
Finally, we collapse in a tangled heap on the floor: panting, spent, gloriously ruined. His arms wrap around me from behind. He nuzzles my neck, whispering my name, which makes me shiver with satisfaction and something dangerously close to happiness.
We stay like this for a long time, neither of us willingto break the perfect silence. Eventually, he carries me to the bed, wraps his strong arms around me, and whispers his love in the dark as I drift off to sleep in perfect bliss.
I wake up to the sound of birds chirping. Sunlight warms my bare shoulders as consciousness seeps back into my bones. I turn over in bed, expecting to hit a wall of muscle called Adrian, but the sheets beside me are empty. My fingers trace the impression his head left on the pillow.
Where is he?
I stretch, noticing the delicious ache in muscles I’d forgotten I had. Memories of last night flood my senses: Adrian’s hands mapping my body like territory he’d been denied for too long, the weight of him above me, inside me.
For the first time in years, I feel whole.
I check the bathroom first, but it’s empty. The sudden absence stirs something uneasy in my chest—a splinter of doubt I don’t want to acknowledge. Old habits die hard; trust is still a tender, healing wound.
I dress quickly, the growing uneasiness pushing me to search for him.
The manor is quiet this morning, most of the staff occupied with outdoor duties. My bare feet pad lightly around as I navigate the maze of hallways.
