Series: The Sacrifice Series by Natasha Knight
Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
A beautiful terror.
“Good girl,” he praises me again, slowly withdrawing his cock from between my lips. As he does, some of his come leaks down my chin, and he catches it with his fingers before bringing them back to my lips.
“All of it,” he commands, our gazes locked on each other.
My lips part, and he pushes his fingers inside my mouth.
His eyes flare when I suck them clean. “Tell me, Little Witch,” he murmurs. “Are you aching for it?”
I nod, no shame to be found as I watch him, silently begging for a release. He offers me a lazy, hungry stare as he pulls his wet fingers from my lips and captures my chin.
“How bad?”
I groan in frustration, not wanting to admit it. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t do anything except watch me, and I know he’s going to make me beg.
“So bad,” I whisper.
His lips curve wider, tormenting me before he reaches down for my hand and pulls me to my feet, nodding at the perimeter wall.
I turn to face it wordlessly, my breath accelerating when he kicks my legs apart and presses my hands against the stone, arching my hips back. Cool air hits my skin when he tugs my dress up, his fingers sliding along the length of my thong until he feels the sticky arousal between my thighs.
“So wet for your monster?” he questions. “Or is it your God?”
That landmine feels like a trap, so I don’t answer, and he rewards me by slapping my ass. I squeak out a strangled noise, and he chuckles as he soothes the sting with his palm. I’m afraid he’s going to demand an answer, so I’m relieved when his fingers move to where I need them the most.
I’m in agony, and just the slightest brush of his thumb over my clit nearly makes my knees buckle. He hums his approval and grabs my hip to steady me as he slips two of his fingers inside of me. I gasp at the feeling, then bite back a moan as he retreats, only to thrust them back in.
At the same time, his body presses close to mine, the heat of his chest warming my back as his lips settle over the beating pulse in my throat. He kisses me gently and fucks me roughly with his fingers, the contrast mixing me up and sending me into a tailspin.
“God or monster?” he asks again.
The only sounds coming from my lips are garbled responses that increase with the intensity of his thrusts. I feel like I’m deliriously high, riding a tidal wave that’s about to crash, and I want it. I want it more than anything. So when he asks me again, just as I’m cresting the tipping point, I can’t be held responsible for the word that leaves my lips on a cry.
“God.”
Starbursts explode behind my eyes as the orgasm tears through my body with a violence that feels unnatural. It robs me of my faculties, and before I can stop it, I’m collapsing. Azrael catches me in his arms, dragging me back as the aftershocks continue to ravage my body, sparks slowly fizzing out as my senses come back to me.
I’m breathing hard, still half-drunk on him when his lips brush against my ear. “That’s what I thought.”
His victory annoys me, but I refuse to let it show. I can’t be held responsible for what I say in the throes of… whatever that just was.
My body slumps in exhaustion as he pulls my dress back down and zips up his trousers. We still have to get back to the house, and I genuinely don’t know if I can make the journey. Perhaps he’ll just leave me here to live amongst the trees like a nymph.
Azrael seems to sense what I’m thinking, and without another word, he picks me up like it’s nothing, wrapping my legs around his waist and securing my arms around his neck.
“Come on, Little Witch. Let’s get you back home.”
Home.
The word rattles around my brain like a record stuck on repeat the entire way back. Azrael smirks as his gaze flickers to mine occasionally throughout the walk, and I can just imagine what I must look like right now. I’m pretty sure my hair is wrecked again, and I can feel the lipstick smeared around my mouth, along with the dried mascara that bled down my face. He’s left his mark on me the way he likes to do.
It should come as no surprise when we finally reach the terrace that I’m subjected to another spectator for the occasion. Of course it has to be Salomé sitting there, her face twisted in disdain as she eyes me like I just emerged from a brothel. Other than the tension in Azrael’s back, he barely seems to acknowledge her as we move past.