.
I think I want to give up control.
Not in the cute, flirty way. Not the “tie me up a little” way. I mean really give it up. Well, to be specific (and maybe a little graphic…), have it taken from me by force.
I want to be used.
Which sounds so fucking wrong. And I’d never in a million years tell anyone about it in real life because it makes me sound like some kind of turbo slut.
Me. The virgin.
I hate this about myself. I hate that it’s in my head and won’t get out. I hate how much I want it.
Don’t judge me.
(But I know you won’t.)
-Me
MILENA
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here.
Okay, I do, it’s just that my brain is still trying to figure out why.
…Shit. I know the “why”, too. It’s firmly wrapped up with the “what”.
Not to mention, the raging, roaring, black aches and desires that sink their claws into me, and have done so ever since I was old enough to understand what wanting something that way meant.
I was popular growing up. I’m pretty, I come from money and power, I’ve always had nice stuff. My father also taught me to have a backbone—to demand respect, yes, but to treat others with it too. To be kind.
It’s really that last one that makes all the difference.
Being popular, I had plenty of other popular friends. But none of them ever really felt like friends. The girls were mean, frankly, if not outright cruel. Catty. Two-faced. Every single one would smile at you while plotting how best to stab you in the back over something ludicrously unimportant, like being prom queen.
The guys were just as bad. They were overly macho in a cringey, blustery way. They were pompous and cocky. And vain. I never understood how someone could be that wealthy, powerful and privileged, and still be an asshole.
Anyway, I ended up getting a reputation as being an “ice queen” in high school. It’s amazing, the shitty names spoiled rich douchebags call you when you don’t want to give them hand jobs in the backs of their Porsches.
Most of it, obviously, was that the guys were shitheads. They were loud, rude, obnoxious, and pushy. But also, by high school I’d already figured out that there was a darkness inside me.
Most girls fantasize about beds of roses, handsome princes sweeping them off their feet and cheesy rom-com meet-cutes. I never wanted that.
I definitely didn’t want to give a blowjob to a preppy douchebag in the back seat of his sports car. But… I didn’t want Prince Charming, either. Didn’t want roses and grand gestures, or candlelit dinners—okay, maybe I did, but not like in the movies.
When I fantasized, when I let my mind wander to heated places, I didn’t dream of swoony kisses out of The Notebook. I didn’t want the blonde guy with dimples and a chin instead of a personality to sweep me into his arms during a sunset.
I wanted to get chased through the dark by a guy in a Jason mask, thrown down, smacked around, and fucking railed until I couldn’t walk.
But there was no fucking way in hell any of the guys in high school were capable of doing that for me, even if I had been crazy enough to ask.
I shiver, sucking my lower lip between my teeth as I look up at the front of Greymoor Manor. I’ve been standing here for five minutes. Maybe ten.
Anyway, I know why I’m here: because as much as he might scare me, Nero can offer me something dark, depraved, and deliciously deviant that I’ve only ever been able to explore once before.
…with him, I’ve always thought. Guessed. Imagined.
After seeing Laz in the store holding that book the other day, I’m not so sure.
Nero fits the profile. He’s crazy, and feral, and has that wolfish glint in his eyes. You could meet him for the first time and sense in a matter of minutes that he’s exactly the sort of person who’s into consensual non-consent play and chasing girls through the dark.
Laz, on the other hand, is kind. Charming. He’s…well…not crazy and feral. And on the one hand, that makes it hard to imagine him being into that sort of stuff.
But then again, would anyone meet me and think I’m anything but a good girl who’s into vanilla sex? I mean, yeah, I can be brassy, and loud, and I’ve never once been mistaken for a doormat. But I sincerely doubt anyone would ever meet me and guess that my “thing” is getting tackled to the ground and forced, or having my panties torn off and stuffed in my mouth as I get fucked like a whore.
Or men in masks who don’t listen to the word “no”.
I take a shaky breath, trying to exhale the confusion from my lungs.
Tonight, it doesn’t matter who he was, back then. Laz. Nero. Someone else, even.
Tonight, I know damn well who I’m here to meet. To run from. To be ravaged by.
And I know exactly why I’m here.
I want this.
…At least, I’m pretty sure I do.
That’s what finally gets me walking across the street to Greymoor. I’m not early this time, so no chance of watching another fucking double murder, thank God.
My brow furrows as that replays in my head. But like dwelling on the past, I’ve elected to shove that from my mind.
I know who Nero is. I know the empire he controls, and what the job can entail.
I’m still here, my blood pounding through my veins like liquid fire.
…A throbbing heat pooling between my thighs.
The code to the lock on the front door has changed. Nero texted the new one to me earlier, along with a reminder not to be late.
He also reminded me of my safe word: Vanquish.
But it came with a warning: use it, and it’s not just tonight that’s over. It’s all of it, permanently.
And that’s how I know I’ve already drunk the Kool-Aid. Because the man literally gave me a way out. Forever.
And I’m still here.
The hinge of the door creaks as I push it open, then does so even louder when I close it behind me again with a sharp, final click.
The grand foyer is dark, the only lights coming from the street lamps outside and the general glow of the city.
My eyes immediately latch onto a piece of paper taped to the finial at the bottom of the ornately carved banister on the sweeping staircase, and I quietly walk over.
It’s a note, with just four words on it.
Run run run, princess…
Vanquish.
For half a second, the word teases the tip of my tongue, asking to be let out so it can stop this madness.
But I shove it back down, and fucking bury it. No going back now.
I step out of my shoes and drop them by the front door, leaving my socks on.
My throat tightens. My hands are shaking. All of me is shaking.
The house is totally silent. Not a single creak of a footstep, not one whisper of him slipping through the shadows. But I know he’s here. I can feel his dark energy oozing from every crevice in the walls. Feel his green eyes on me, even if I can’t see them.
I take one last, steadying breath. In. Out.
Then, I run.
I vaguely remember the layout of the first floor, so that’s where I stay, sprinting into the room with the bookshelves that I rifled through the last time. My breath is tight in my throat, already loud as I bolt through that room into the next.
I have no idea where I’m going. Even less idea where he might be waiting for me, ready to pounce.
Behind any door. Hidden in any shadow. Lingering in any creak of an old floorboard as I skitter across the floor.
I run down another corridor, but suddenly, instead of a room, there’s just a turn in the hallway, and a locked door.
Fuck.
My pulse jangles and my skin turns clammy as I whirl and rush back the way I came. I turn left through another room, but…shit…even that one seems different from last time.
It’s like the house itself is shifting, helping him find me.
Like it wants me caught.
There’s a creak behind me. My heart lurches, my pulse hammering in my veins as I spin on unsteady feet, gaping into the darkness.
Nothing. No hands reaching for me. No leering green eyes piercing into me.
I start to run again, darting through another grand salon and then down a dusty, ancient hallway, until I reach another staircase at the back of the house.
This time, I bolt up to the second floor as my senses wail, alarm bells I’m willfully ignoring.
Run.
Leave this madness.
We are the survival instincts that have kept your stupid species alive for millennia. Stop fucking ignoring us, idiot.
I’m barreling down another hallway when I hear them.
Footsteps, slow and measured.
Not like I’m being chased.
Like I’m being hunted.
A panicky thought suddenly surfaces in my head that if Nero’s not my old pen pal, I really don’t know him at all. The few times I’ve been alone with him have involved him violently undressing me and putting his hands on me. Touching me and making me come, regardless of consent. He did it while I was fucking asleep, for God’s sake. The last time I saw him here, he killed two people right in front of me without blinking an eye.
That is who I’m allowing to chase me through the dark and fuck me however he wants when he catches me?
I must be insane.
My chest tightens. I dart left, down a narrower corridor, past broken picture frames and faded wallpaper.
Another creak behind me. I whirl, a choked gasp ripping from my lips. Just as I’m peering into the darkness, the sound comes again, still behind me.
My nerves are out of control, my skin prickling into goosebumps as a cold shiver drags down my spine like the edge of a blade. My breath catches in my throat. My tongue feels heavy and numb as I slowly creep away from the sound as it comes yet again.
“I’ll make you a deal, princess.”
I almost scream when his voice cuts through the dark like a serrated blade. Every nerve in my body spasms. Every inch of my skin turns to ice.
“Stay put, and I’ll make it quick.”
My breath freezes in my lungs. The hammering of my pulse fills my ears.
“But if you keep running, princess,” he growls, “I’ll make it fucking messy. I’ll make it hurt. I will use every fucking hole you have until I’ve left every last drop of my cum in and on you.”
My eyes bulge into the blackness.
“What’s it going to be, Milena?” he murmurs. “Although, for the record, I can already smell how fucking wet your pretty cunt is from here.”
I start to back up again. A low, dark chuckle floats from the darkness.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he sneers. “You were so brave when you walked in. Well, after you’d spent fifteen minutes outside trying to talk yourself into it.”
My face heats. My feet keep moving me back, away from him and his lunacy. His madness. His dangerous, dark allure.
“This house is mine, princess. Every hallway. Every room. Every fucking shadow…including, by the way, the one you’re trying to hide in right now.”
The floor creaks underfoot as I take another step back.
“But I. See. YOU.”
The last “you” comes snarling out of the darkness right next to me. And this time, I scream, loudly, before I spin and bolt.
My lungs seize as my socks slide over the polished wood, the floor groaning beneath me with every step. I don’t look back. I can’t.
Because now, I can feel him pounding after me, his breath teasing the nape of my neck as imaginary claws reach out to grab me.
The house bends and shifts around me. Shadows stretch and contract. The very wallpaper seems to breathe. Every corner feels like teeth, and every open doorway looks like a gaping maw, waiting to swallow me whole.
I shove past a cracked hallway table, nearly tripping on a loose rug. The main stairs up to the third floor loom ahead. There’s no rhyme or reason to my running anymore.
Now, it’s all about survival.
I get to the staircase, reaching for the banister to charge up to the third floor.
Suddenly, an iron grip closes around my ankle. I shriek when my leg is yanked out from under me, sending me sprawling and crashing into the steps.
My kneecap slams into the hardwood stair, and pain flashes up my thigh. But he’s already on me. Everywhere.
My survival instinct kicks in, turning me from passive victim to a fighting demon. I lash out, jamming my heel back. He grunts and dodges, and my heel slams into his thigh instead of his balls.
He grabs my ponytail in a fist, yanking my head back so viciously that the roots of my hair scream for mercy. I jab an elbow back, and I’m rewarded with a grunt as I slam into something relatively soft. The hand releases its grip, and I start to scramble up the stairs…
I barely make it three steps.
His weight crashes into me, sending me crashing back down. I whirl, nails out, raking them over his bare skin as he roars with pain. He grabs me by the throat, but I slam my forearm into him, and when his grip loosens, my hand moves on its own, rearing back and then slapping him.
For one silent second, horror rushes into my face, and my eyes go wide.
Then heat blooms across my cheek, utterly stunning me.
He just slapped me back.
…and I didn’t hate it.
This is part of the sickness I’ll never be rid of. A black part of my soul that fucking craves it.
Submission not because I’m submissive, but because it’s been wrested from me.
As the heat stings my cheek, an even darker one throbs between my legs.
I lash out again, but it’s futile. A pathetic whimper chokes from my throat as he easily stops my fist, flips me over, and sends me crashing against the stairs again.
I jolt, panting and gasping, my knees on one stair, my elbows two higher, and my cheek pressed to the one above that. I cry out when he yanks on my ponytail again, arching my spine.
A blubbering moan tumbles from my lips as he grabs the back of my yoga pants in his fist and yanks them down to my knees. I try to kick and fight, but his open palm crashes once, twice, three times against my ass, making me scream and yelp as heat explodes across my tender skin.
Nero spanks me again before he grabs the lace of my thong between the globes of my ass and rips it down my legs.
“That’s it, baby,” he snarls as he spanks my ass again, tearing a scream from my lips. “Struggle. Fucking fight me. It only gets me harder. It only makes me want to ruin this pretty little cunt even more.”
My leg kicks out again, but he knocks it to the side and yanks my ponytail harder, grunting. Pain and pleasure explode through my system, making me drunk on the madness of it all.
“Uh-uh-uh, princess,” he snarls, spanking me again, hard. A squeal wrenches from my throat as my core clenches. “You don’t get to tap out,” he growls. “You begged for this. And now you’ll take it like the good little whore you are.”
A sob of pleasure erupts from deep inside me as he rams two of his fingers into my pussy. I’m soaked, but even still, the words “gentle” and “Nero” have never once been uttered in the same sentence.
The breath is knocked from me as he shoves his fingers deep inside, making my eyes bulge as I choke on another cry. He starts sawing his fingers in and out of me, making sloppy wet noises that fill the darkness around us.
“You’re such a filthy, messy, eager little thing. Tell me, slut: were you already this fucking wet when you were outside, staring up at the house, fantasizing about all the bad things I’d do to you? Or was it running through the shadows like my fucking prey that turned this greedy pussy into such a dripping mess?”
I groan as he jams his fingers into me again.
“So…”
Squelch.
“Fucking…”
Ram.
“Wet for me.”
Suddenly, he pushes a third finger into me. I cry out, shuddering with pain and pleasure as he stretches me wide, pounding into my dripping pussy.
“That’s it, princess,” he snarls. “Make a fucking mess for me. Drip all over my hand and show me what a good little fuck-doll I’ve caught. Besides, baby,” he murmurs, bending over me, his hand still gripping my hair and his three fingers sawing mercilessly in and out, “you’ve seen my cock.” His lips nip sharply on my earlobe, making me squeal as my pussy clenches around his fingers.
“We both know you’ll need to be nice and stretched out to take me.”
I moan when I hear the jangle of his belt and the metallic sound of his zipper. I squirm and fight, not because I think I’d get away from him, or am even still trying to. But because the feel of his grip tightening on me, pinning me harder, and taking this from me by force has me aching for it.
“Yes, princess,” he groans. “Scream. Cry. Claw at me. It won’t change a fucking thing. I’m still going to shove my cock so deep inside you that you forget your own name.”
He pulls his fingers out of my pussy and roughly slaps the inside of my thigh. I cry out, then he does it again. I shudder when that same hand comes up in front of my face, and he rams his three sticky wet fingers right into my mouth.
“Fucking fight me,” he rasps. “Tell yourself that if you try to get away, it doesn’t count. But the thing is, princess…”
I shudder, moaning around his fingers in my mouth as I feel his fat, swollen cock head push against my needy pussy. He lines it up, rubbing it over my lips as they part around him.
“We both know you asked for this.”
The only reason he doesn’t impale me on every thick inch of his cock with his first thrust is because I’m literally too tight to take it. I choke on the pain and the pleasure as he rams in roughly, sending my body, mind, and soul reeling.
He’s so. Fucking. Big.
It feels like he’s ripping me apart. Like I’m going to literally split in two around his huge fucking dick as he buries it inside me. It’s only when he slides back out, then a little deeper back in, that I realize I didn’t take it all on the first thrust.
“Thaaaat’s it, baby,” he groans, pulling back out. He sinks back in with a vicious thrust, cramming more of his fat cock into my tight, wet pussy. “Stretch for me, baby,” he snarls. “Let me stuff that little fuck hole with every inch of my big dick.”
I whine and moan, panting against the stairs as he grabs my hips, dragging his thick cock out before ramming it right back in, going a little deeper with every thrust. I’m so wet that it’s literally dripping down my thighs, but even so, he has to fight to work in every quarter of an inch.
“There we go, princess. Fuck, you’re taking it so well, like a good little slut. We’re almost there, baby girl. I’m going to get every goddamn inch of me stuffed into this tight little cunt if I have to tear you in half to do it.”
Jesus, I’m fucked up. Sick. Depraved. Because those words don’t turn me off. They don’t send me screaming.
They turn my blood to fire and my legs to jelly as I feel myself drenching his cock.
He withdraws once more, and then, with a feral growl, rams in…
All. The. Fucking. Way.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt. Nothing I’ve ever imagined a body could feel. The wind is knocked from my lungs. My eyes bulge, my mouth falls open against the stairs. He’s so deep that I’m surprised I don’t feel him in my fucking throat.
“I own this pussy, princess,” he growls into my ear, his chest to my back, one hand on my hip, the other wrapping my ponytail around his fist. He rolls his hips, making me gasp breathlessly as I feel his huge dick swell and pulse inside me.
“And I’ll use it when I want, how I want, as much as I want. Is that clear?”
All I can do is whimper.
“Answer me.”
“Y-yes!” I choke.
My submission washes over me, taken by force. Slowly, I feel myself start to descend into a hazy, throbbing, dark place. It’s like my skin comes alive, and every nerve in my body is on fire. Every twitch of his cock, every pulse of every vein on his dick sends tremors rippling through my core.
“Good girl.”
Then, Nero starts to fuck me.
It’s almost too much. Too deep. Too fast, too rough, too everything.
But it’s in that madness and frenzied violence that I find exactly what I crave.
His muscles clench as he fucks me hard, brutally, scraping my knees against the steps as my fingers scrabble for purchase. He yanks up my top and roughly rips down my bra. I cry out, whimpering and sobbing with sick pleasure as my nipples drag across the wood, sending bolts of ecstatic pain rippling through my body.
His fist yanks my ponytail. His palm slaps my ass hard, then grips it tight as he thrusts into me with deep, punishing strokes. My mind melts and my body comes undone as he keeps up the frantic, vicious pace.
Suddenly, I’m breaking apart at the seams.
Fuck.
Oh fucking FUCK.
With a strangled cry, I feel myself coming hard for him, my pussy clenching and rippling, gripping his thick cock as he pounds into me.
“There’s a good girl,” he snarls. “Coming all over my fat fucking dick like a good little princess. Let me feel it drip down my fucking balls, baby.”
The orgasm tears through me like a hurricane, taking with it the last of my strength. I cry out, whimpering and moaning as I collapse on the steps, limbs like spaghetti, body utterly spent. My cheek is against the stairs, my mouth slack.
Nero is nowhere near done with me, though. If anything, the way I just came undone and melted into a puddle only fuels him on, like lighter fluid on a fire.
His thrusts get harder, deeper, rougher. His hands are everywhere: mauling my breasts, pinching my nipples, wrapping around my throat, pulling my hair, slapping my ass. His grip there tightens. His thumb pushes between my cheeks.
Oh, fuck…
All I can do is whimper, drooling against the wood of the stairs as he sinks his thumb into my tight back hole and keeps fucking me like a rag doll.
The feeling is utterly consuming, like he’s taking every part of my soul. The electric sensation of his thumb in my most private place sends rippling pulses through my core that have my entire reality spinning as I gasp for air.
“Too… It’s too much,” I whine against the stairs, almost incoherent even to myself. Even as I say that, my body rebels against me, shattering and coiling and exploding in another orgasm.
Nero chuckles darkly, not slowing the frantic thrusts of his hips against my ass—his huge cock ripping me open and making places inside me I didn’t even know I had ache for both more and mercy.
“Is it, princess?” he grunts, grabbing my hair in a fist.
“Y—yes!”
He starts to fuck his thumb in and out of my ass, sending my body into another shaky, gasping state.
“Nero…please…”
He reaches under me with his other hand, and when his fingers pinch my clit, it’s like a wave crashing over me again.
I’m coming.
Fucking. Again.
“Nero!” I sob. “It’s too—”
Another cry. Another shatter.
I need to stop fucking orgasming.
“If it really was too much, princess,” he murmurs, grunting in drawn-out pleasure as he pushes into me again, “you’d stop gripping my cock so eagerly, trying to keep me inside.”
I sob as another wave ripples through me, sending me reeling as I kick at thin air and claw at the wood beneath me. I clench my knees together, but that just makes him feel even bigger inside me.
“Please…!”
Nero chuckles again. “You keep asking me to stop, princess, and yet your greedy pussy won’t stop tightening around me. I think you and she need to have a sidebar and figure out what you really want. In the fucking meantime…”
I scream as he brutally rams into me, pushing his thumb deep alongside his cock as he yanks my ponytail.
“In. The. Fucking. Mean. Time…”
Every word is punctuated with a vicious thrust of his cock.
“I’m going to keep using this slutty hole until you can’t walk for a month.”
He rams into me once more. For a second, when he slides his bulging, fat cock out of my tender, swollen pussy, I think I’ll find relief.
Not that it hurts. I mean, it does, in a delicious, aching way. It’s just too much. Too much pleasure. Too much sensation. Too—I can’t believe I’m thinking it—too many orgasms.
I gasp as he picks me up, a tangle of limbs and what little clothing is still attached to me, stands and stomps up the rest of the stairs.
For a second, I think maybe he’s had his fill. That this death by pleasure is over.
Then he throws me down, and I hit a soft bed.
Lady Greymoor’s bed.
Nero is on me in a millisecond, a wild beast pouncing. He grabs a fistful of my panties and yoga pants tangled around my knees and shoves my legs back, pushing my knees into my breasts, folding me in half.
My eyes lock on his frenzied, feral green gaze as he reaches through my ankles and slowly wraps his fingers around my throat.
Oh fuck…
His fat, swollen dick pushes into my battered pussy, making me wince and whine with black, twisted pleasure as he sinks all the way into me.
He starts pounding, fucking me hard and deep, his grip tightening on my throat.
My vision swims. Pleasure I’ve never imagined explodes in my core as I feel myself start to come again.
And again.
And again.
“Stop.”
“Please.”
It’s not that I want him to stop.
It’s that I have to stop orgasming, or I’m going to black the fuck out.
“I can’t—”
“You can, princess,” he snarls into my ear, crushing me as he bites the lobe. “And you fucking will. You’ll take my cock like a good girl, and your slutty, greedy little pussy will keep coming all the fuck over it until I say we’re done.”
A wrenching sob of pleasure and abject submission whines from my throat.
“Take it out…”
“Then stop coming all over it.”
“Please—”
“Then you’ll need to stop strangling my cock like your hungry little pussy is begging for my cum, baby,” he snarls.
I moan pitifully when I feel him swell even bigger inside of me. His heavy balls slap my ass with every brutal thrust. His hand is still at my throat, cutting off my air. His other hand slides between my legs, pinching my swollen, aching clit.
The swelling, building sensation inside me feels like more than I can handle.
More than I can withstand.
More than my nervous system can endure.
His body is in a mad frenzy against me: muscles clenching, hands grabbing, nails scratching, breath panting. His teeth rake down my neck, and just as I feel myself start to detonate from the inside out, they latch firmly onto my throat.
Pain lances through me, mixed with the gut-wrenching, soul-shattering, mind-numbing sensation of my body coming apart at the seams, but it’s that bite that sends me over the edge.
Pain mixed with pleasure.
Damnation blended with rapture.
I’m only vaguely aware of the screaming, of my nails sinking into warm flesh and hard muscle. Of his cock pulsing violently inside me as his cum floods my insides. Of my walls clamping around him as my orgasm drags me down to hell.
I whimper, wincing slightly at the soreness between my legs as he slides out of me, his cock glistening with my cum and his, tinged pink with a little blood.
I slump against the bed, my body wrecked, my pulse hammering wildly in my ears as I collapse in on myself.
“Not yet, princess.”
He wraps my ponytail in his fist and moves up my bruised, battered body until his swollen, heavy cock is bobbing right in front of my face.
“Open that pretty mouth and show me how good girls clean up their messes.”
I freeze. He can’t be serious. His cock is still coated in our cum. Has my fucking blood on it.
Nero’s piercing green eyes lock with mine as he reaches down and slowly starts stroking his still very hard cock. His other hand tightens in my hair.
“Open wide,” he murmurs darkly.
God help me, I do.
My lips part. I moan quietly as he presses his sticky, wet cock between them. I can taste him—and me—as he glides over my tongue, into the back of my throat. He groans, slides out, then pumps back in.
Then he does it again. And again.
His cock thickens to iron, stretching my jaw as he starts to fuck my face with manic, brutal strokes. His hand slides down my body, and I whimper in both pain and ecstasy as he starts to rub my clit.
“That’s it, princess,” he grunts. “Suck my cock clean like a good girl.”
He rams in again, and again, and again, until suddenly, I feel him groan as his abs tighten and his cock swells inside my mouth.
Holy shit. He’s coming. Again.
And so am I.
I can only groan and mumble and slobber around his cock as the final, punishing orgasm grabs me by the throat and shakes the life out of me. Nero grunts, and I feel his hot, sticky cum flood my mouth until it leaks out the corners of my lips.
He pulls out with another deep groan, stroking his bulging, twitching cock and splashing more cum over my lips and cheeks, and down my throat.
My eyes barely peel open. Instantly, they’re met with a clash of violent green as he slowly, languidly, strokes himself. He reaches down, running one finger through the cum on my face and slowly pushing it into my mouth.
“You look so fucking pretty with my cum all over your face,” he murmurs quietly, reverently.
Almost sweetly.
Then, without any warning, he lowers his face, eyes still locked on mine, and kisses me.
Slowly. Deeply. Not caring that his cum is still smeared across my lips as his tongue dances with mine.
This is madness.
Damnation.
And the sweetest fucking oblivion.
