Pinpricks of pain explode through my skull, setting my head to throbbing. But it’s nothing like the ache in my gums. I desire nothing more than to taste Blackport’s blood upon my lips. There’s no rational reason for it, and yet, somehow, I understand I’m far past reason.
I squirm against his implacable hold, desperate to bite him, but he refuses to allow me. It doesn’t make sense. The way he used me, broke me open, and made me feel things no proper girl is allowed to feel is far past the bound of impropriety. And yet, the oaf won’t allow me to do the one thing I yearn for.
It doesn’t matter that I don’t understand what’s driving me. There’s this feeling in the pit of my gut which tells me it’s the right thing to do. To feel my teeth sinking into his skin… it’s what I’m made to do. Dark whispers invade my skull until I can no longer drown them out.
Manic cries drip from my lips as I writhe under this beast of a man. His rough touch is the only thing quelling these unholy desires. It’s the only thing grounding me in reality. Still, I fear I’m far too gone to be saved.
Nothing is right. I have no words for what’s wrong, but I feel it deep in my soul. We’re supposed to be as one. It’s what’s whispered about amongst those who have mates and husbands.
Until today, I have never understood them. How can two become one flesh? How can I leave my mother and father and cleave unto a man? And yet, with his member filling me, stuffing me to the point where I can take no more, I finally understand. But even now, it’s wrong.
There’s something missing, something fundamental which is being kept from me. I should be satisfied with the pleasure humming through my body with every twitch I make, but I’m not. The thicker, rounder part of his anatomy grinds against some spot deep inside me, filling my body with immense satisfaction and gratification, and yet I feel empty.
“Please,” I whimper, not having any words or understanding of what I need.
But Blackport should know. He should be able to fix this. Can’t he? Again, he tightens his grip on my hair, making the voices quiet as pain floods my system. It’s the only relief, the only reprieve I have.
“Hurt me,” I beg. “Punish me. Please, make it stop.”
“I hear you, omega,” he whispers, bringing his lips down to mine in a hard crash.
The way he kisses me is violent, messy, and uncomfortable. It’s what I need. It’s what I crave. Reaching lower, he grabs my nipple and squeezes it between his thumb and forefinger. At first, a wave of pleasure arcs through my body like summer lightning, but then it morphs into a sharp pinch.
I cry out and jerk back, desperate to be free from the sensations, but he doesn’t allow me. He’s right there, giving me what my body and mind need. He’s relentless, flooding my system with just enough discomfort to bring me back from the edge, but not enough I demand for it to stop.
His member swells as my pained, erotic cries echo in the room, crashing down around my ears in an unholy cacophony. It stretches me out even more, filling me, opening me up, breaking me in a way I never could have imagined.
Now, I understand why no one talks about this. It’s an intimacy far too consuming to be able to fathom unless it happens. It would be the ruination of so many women. Honestly, if I knew what ecstasy I could find in his touch, I would have even been so inclined as to actually trap him.
No. It’s good I didn’t know. But even if they told me, I would have never believed them. There’s no basis in my brain to accommodate the enormity of the sensations washing over me. Not even the few mildly titillating books I’ve read even hinted at feeling something so divine.
He switches to the other nipple, starting the process all over again. Even as I cry out, tears streaming down my face, he’s right there with me. His words of praise pepper my skin just as potent as kisses. It makes me want to take more, do more, and please him even more.
With a growl, he pulls away and grabs me in his arms. With my face back against his chest, it’s so tempting to taste his skin, to lick the salt from his sweat as it drips down his chiseled chest. But I cannot. To give in, even just a little, it would be my downfall.
His grunts fill my ears as he turns us over, twisting us about in the nest until he resides below me and I sit on top. My thighs spread apart even more, stretching out at the joints until they ache. His hips are massive. He is massive. Every inch of him is far larger than what I imagined.
Somehow, beneath the finery of his clothes, I never quite understood the depth and breadth of this man. Now, as he surrounds me, engulfs me, I know far more intimately his size. I’m tiny compared to him, minuscule, fragile, and completely overwhelmed.
Somehow, I feel cherished and protected. The bunching of his muscles conveys a savage strength his regal demeanor never quite revealed. True, there was a lethality about him, but it was tempered by his clothes and title.
Here and now, as merely a man, he’s glorious. The candlelight flickers over his skin, showing off each and every muscle as he moves me into position. I want to worship him, to drag my tongue over every inch just to fully comprehend how massive, how feral, and how utterly devastating he is.
But such thoughts are irrational. Yet, as he further moves me into position, I cannot help but trail my fingers down his arms, feeling the strength as it flows out of him. It’s an aphrodisiac with no name.
It almost distracts me from the burn blazing through my body as every bit of me screams out in distress. As if he hears my pain, he growls. Not the forceful bite of an Alpha command, but something different, something utterly intoxicating.
The sound rolls through me as he gathers me into his arms, pulling me down against him. From this angle, he somehow stretches me even more. Though a soft squeak of discomfort flies from my lips at the sudden ache, my body somehow accommodates him.
More liquid gathers between us, lubricating his movements as he grips my hips and holds me in place as he juts up in the air. It causes that bulging part of him move, rubbing back and forth against that hidden spot inside which makes me cry out for a completely different reason.
Fire.
It races through my body. An insurmountable heat. I cannot think, I cannot speak, and I cannot breathe. It’s the same as my dreams, only now, I’m very much awake. My body aches and throbs as Blackport stretches me open.
I’m not sure how much I can take. It rides that razor-thin edge of pleasure and pain. Feeling emboldened, I rise, sitting upon him as if astride a horse. Granted with how large the man is, I can’t see it being all that different.
I’m the one who moves this time, rocking back and forth as I seek my pleasure. Looking down, I watch his expression. It’s dark and feral, like a soldier or highwayman set to plunder me. For a fraction of a second, I can understand the draw now.
Not that I agree with Lady Margaret in all her assertions, but there’s still that part of me which wishes he could just steal me away. I long for us to be able to run, to not have any family or duty holding us here. But with him being a duke and with me being a daughter of a pauper put in a bad situation, we have no options.
All I can truly have is him here and now. Setting my nails to his chest, I dig in, drawing pinpricks of blood. I cannot mar him with my teeth, but somehow, this feels like a good alternative. He takes the pain I inflict upon him, growling as he arches up into me.
His hard thrust would have knocked me off if not for the massive bulge keeping me glued around his massive shaft. A slight bite of pain flutters through my body, but it’s edged out by the raw, unadulterated pleasure flowing in to soothe me.
A guttural sound rips from my lips, almost like a growl, but it can’t be. The sound is almost inhuman, and yet, the rawness of my throat tells me otherwise. When I look down again, blood coats his chest, turning his skin a bright vermillion.
This time, he growls right along with me as his eyes flutter close. Pleasure and pain etch deep in the lines of his face, making my insides flip and clench. It should disgust me. All this carnage should make me want to stop. But the savagery only spurs me on. I continue to grind against him, seeking out that illusive pleasure only he can give me.
“That’s it, love,” he groans, digging his fingers into my hips. “Ride me, my little hellcat. Take what you need from me.”
A scream gurgles up my throat as I once more dig my nails into his skin. The slickness of his blood coats my fingertips, mimicking the feel of my arousal sliding between us. It’s too much, too overwhelming.
Leaning back, I allow my neck to stretch out as my head drops. Everything stops as pleasure surges through me. My release splinters my body, shattering me from the inside out. I cry out until I’m hoarse and barely able to make a sound. Still, ecstasy rolls through me.
Blackport wedges his fingers in between the tight gap between us and strokes me, ramping it up until I fear I can no longer take any more. Tears stream from my eyes, but not from sadness. Relief bursts forth like a dam as my core clenches around the massive bulge, triggering one last release.
With a heavy groan, I slump forward, depleted for now. Before he lets me lie down on his chest, the duke has the wherewithal to pull over a bit of sheet and cover the bloody mess, allowing me to sleep. When my eyes close, they feel far too heavy to open again as blissful respite overtakes me.
Pleasure explodes through my body. Fragmented images pound into my brain as Blackport uses his tongue to bring me to another release. But that’s not what I want. I need him inside me, thick and hot, filling me to the brim and sending me hurtling over the edge.
Spreading my legs open even further, I tug on his hair, desperate to convey my need. I cannot speak. Words seem to escape me. They’re fathomless, worthless. All I can do is communicate with sounds and moans. But still, he doesn’t give me what I need.
In the haze of lust, I can see his face as it hovers over me. His eyes are pitch black, like some demon sent to devour me. Am I dreaming again? But as if fingers pinch the delicate skin between my thighs, I know it’s all too real. A gurgling cry erupts from my lips, but it’s not in agony.
No. Everything he does to me, every bit of pain he provides, only serves to give me even greater pleasure. Without saying a word, he jostles a dark bottle in front of my face. I cannot even guess as to its contents. Soon, however, he uncorks it and tips it over onto my chest.
It’s a lubricant of some sort. That much I can tell. There’s no scent, only sensation. He rubs it into my skin, kneading the sore muscles until I melt underneath his ministrations. Though it’s not as rough as I crave, it still quiets the mind, keeping me fully under his spell.
He continues down my arms and to my thighs until he turns me over and massages my back. I arch into him as he digs his knuckles into my backside, purring like a kitten who found a patch of sun on a dreary, cold day. When he spreads me open, I don’t fight him. However, as he drips the lubricant over my back hole, I freeze.
“Be my good girl,” he murmurs, running his finger along the puckered flesh. “I told you I’m going to claim every hole you possess. Your arse is the last one.” He slips the tip of his thumb past the tight ring, and I cannot help the wanton moan which drips from my lips just as decadently as my arousal drips from my thighs.
He eases it out, only to drive in a bit deeper, stretching me open a bit more. There’s a burn and a slight sting, but it’s nothing I’m unable to handle. So far, I’ve felt much worse and found the most exquisite release afterward.
Over and over, he eases in and out, lulling me with the sparks of sensation until I’m used to them. Only then does he pull out and fill me even more. I can no longer tell if it’s one finger, two, or more. Everything muddles together until I can barely breathe.
I dig my fingers into the nest, a whine wheezing through my lips. With a throaty purr, Blackport leans down and plants kisses down my spine, waiting until my body relaxes before pushing in again.
“That’s my good girl,” he groans, stretching out the edges with his thick knuckles. “I know you can take it. You’ve already taken so much, love. Let me in. Just breathe for me. I’m going to make you feel so damned good.”
Burying my face in the nest, I force myself to relax. It takes a few moments, but I can feel him sink in further.
“That’s it.” His voice is thick with need, decadent. “I’m going to fuck your arse with my cock,” he breathes against my skin, his voice hoarse as the sound skitters up my spine. “You’re going to take me, all of me, even my knot, aren’t you? Say you’ll do this for me.”
Desperation laces his tone, answering a need deep within me. He craves this just as much as I crave him. Unable to speak, I merely nod. Again, those drops from the lubricant drip against my upturned bottom. A thrill of anticipation makes my nerves stand on end.
The blunt tip of his member prods my entrance. It’s far bigger than his fingers. How am I going to take all of him? Before panic can truly take hold, he purrs, the sound sliding over me, much like the lubricant. It settles me, allowing me to breathe as he eases his way in.
The fit is tight, far more than when he took my mouth or my pussy, as he calls it. We both groan in unison as he pushes forward, stretching me open with his massive girth. He invades me, impales me, and owns me completely.
Millimeter by millimeter, inch by inch, he slides in. “That’s it, love. Good girl,” he groans. Every few moments, he pauses, allowing me time to accommodate him. “You’re doing so well for me. Show me how good you can take my cock and my knot. Show me just how badly you want it.”
A low moan hums in my throat as I drink in his words, using them as a balm on my poor abused opening. Still, he purrs as he coaxes me to let him in. It’s a slow process, but eventually, his entire shaft fills my bottom.
The crisp hairs at the base of his stomach tickle my skin, distracting me from the intense burning ring. His fingers dig into my bottom cheeks as he holds himself still. Unable to keep my body from reacting, I clench around him.
I’m full, so very, very full, and yet, I’m so empty at the same time. But from what I’ve seen, there’s only one shaft on him. There’s no way he can fill both holes as I need him too. Another soft whine stutters from my lips, and he runs his hand down my back as if to soothe me.
“What is wrong, omega?” he rasps out. “Please do not ask me to stop. I cannot. I will fuck this arsehole until I’m depleted. Are we clear?”
“I- More,” I cry. “I’m so very empty.”
His hands still on my body before a dark chuckle rumbles from his chest. “I will see to your needs, omega.” Easing out, he turns me on my back and smiles down at me. “I will stuff you so full, you cannot move.” He growls for me, sending shivers of need down my body until I nearly weep from the sensations.