“Then beg me to break you”
I couldn’t stop staring.
His c**k was in his hand. Thick. Pulsing. Leaking like it was already inside me. Like it belonged there. Like my mouth was the only place it was willing to go.
My p***y clenched just looking at it.
God.
The length of it.
The way it hung from his fist, heavy and veined and unforgiving. The head swollen and purple, so wide it looked like it would split my lips in half before it ever made it to my throat. There was no way that would fit. No way it would slide in.
But I wanted it.
I wanted him to force it.
Rip me.
Stretch me,
Crack me open like a virgin sacrifice.
My tongue pressed to the roof of my mouth. My chest heaved. I was soaking the floor. Every inch of me ached like I was in heat and he was the only cure.
He took one step forward.
Held the base.
And slapped it against my cheek.
I moaned. f*****g moaned.
“Look at you,” he said.
His voice was lower than before. Rougher. Like gravel over a flame. It vibrated inside me.
“Drooling for a c**k you can’t even take.”
My lips parted.
He pushed the head against them.
Not in.
Just there.
Hot. Wet. Massive.
My jaw trembled,
“Open your mouth, little girl,” he whispered.
“Let me show you what it means to beg.”
I opened.
Wide.
Like a good w***e.
The head slid in.
Not far. Not deep.
But enough to stretch me.
Enough to make my eyes water.
I whimpered.
And then he pulled back.
Smirked.
“Can’t even get past the tip.”
He slapped it on my tongue again. Dragged the head over it. Slow. Filthy. Left a trail of precum across my tastebuds.
“You think this c**k’s gonna be gentle just because your little cunt’s untouched?” he growled.
“You think I’m gonna kiss your p***y and light candles and ask permission?”
I was panting.
“No,” he whispered.
“I’m going to make you bleed for it.”
Oh God.
“Oh f**k,”
I breathed.
“You’re going to cry with it inside you. Scream while it rips your virgin hole apart. And still beg me not to stop.
I shook.
“I’m going to split you open so wide you’ll never be tight again.”
He dragged it lower.
Across my chin.
My throat.
My heaving t**s.
“You’ll leak for days,” he said.
“You’ll limp. You’ll sob into your pillow and rub your thighs together hoping the pain goes away. But it won’t.”
He leaned down.
Put his mouth beside my ear.
“Because you’ll still feel me?”
?
I nearly came.
And then.
BANG. BANG. BANG. f**k.
My whole body flinched.
I gasped.
He didn’t move.
“Lyra?”
Tasha’s voice.
It was f*****g High. Oblivious. f*****g chirpy.
My blood went cold.
“Lyraaaa! Girl, are you in there? It’s time!”
I couldn’t breathe.
Damon didn’t flinch.
Just stared down at me. His c**k still hard. Still dripping. Still aimed at the lips I hadn’t even finished licking.
“Get up,” he ordered softly.
I tried.
My legs didn’t work.
He bent. Gripped my jaw again.
“You don’t c*m tonight.”
I whimpered.
“You don’t even touch yourself.”
My thighs twitched.
“If I smell slick on your fingers when you get back,” he said, mouth at my throat, “” make you regret ever learning how to moan.”
Another knock.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.