Sancte Diaboli

I turn to look over my shoulder, flicking my hair to the side. “That’s not fair. I still can’t see you…”

“Life with me will never be fair.” He tosses his phone onto the floor, allowing some light to bounce off the shadows, before his fingers are digging into my hips and he’s directing me over him. I stretch over the metal of his piercings, clenching and pulling with every inch he buries inside of me.

“Oh my God.” I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from screaming. I feel everything. The pleasure that tantalizes the pain. It’s a constant tug-of-war of which one will win. His pelvis hits my ass cheeks and I gasp, falling down onto the mattress while keeping my butt high in the air. He pulls out before driving back in. He continues with this slow pace, until I’ve relaxed around him, the sound of my wetness mixing with his. He speeds up, slamming into me relentlessly. I feel my stomach twist and turn as my heart rate speeds up again. I’m so close. So fu—I explode around him when his finger comes to my nipple. He pinches roughly, leaning over my back and sinking his teeth into my shoulder as he releases inside of me, his heavy body on mine.

“Your pussy is going to kill me.”

“Not before your dick splits me in two.”

He chuckles, his laughter vibrating over my back. “You handle it good, baby. Real good…”

He’s still catching his breath when he rolls off my body, taking the sheet with him. I roll to my side and his arm slips over my back, so I snuggle beneath his arm as he pulls me in close, his nose in my hair.

I flick my finger over his nipple ring. “I want one of these.”

“Mmmm, we can do that.”

His finger hooks under my chin, tilting my face up to his. He kisses me. “Come sit on my face.”

“Tired.” I yawn, but he catches my bottom lip mid-yawn.

“Now.”

I run my hand over his chest, rubbing the sweat and moisture over his abs and pecs while pushing up against him and crawling up his body. His hands come to each of my thighs, pulling me down until I land over his mouth. I bury my hands in his hair, tilting my head back as his tongue dives inside of me, his hands on my ass possessively. Ru

My brows knit together in confusion as I bring my hand to my face. Adjusting my eyes to what little light his phone is offering, I pause when I notice whatever it is that’s on my hand is dark. Dark enough to see through the minimal light.

I go to push off him, but he pulls me back down.

“Brantley…” I whisper, but he flicks my clit and sucks on it gently and my mind is lost in the erotic place it goes to any time he eats me. Leaning up on his stomach with one hand, I relentlessly roll my hips over his face.

One hand comes up to my throat and he tenses as I continue to grind over him. Air is cut short when his grip tightens. I hold myself up by his arm, the ripples of muscles tensing under my palm.

“Fuck.” He unlatches from me, his hands on my hips. He slides my body down his chest like I weigh nothing, and guides me back over his dick. I shiver when he fills me again, falling on top of him like a fragile doll while catching my breath.

“You’re bleeding.” I lean up by pressing on his chest.

He forces my head down to his by the back of my neck. “Then clean it.”

I run my tongue over his sharp jaw, down his neck, and over his jugular. The strong tang of metal hits the tip of my tongue and slides down the back of my throat. I ride over him slowly while nibbling and sucking over his collarbone and neck.

“Mmmm.” He wraps my hair around his fist, yanking my face up to his again. “You might be perfect for me.”

He slides in and out until our bodies slap together, filling the silence with our moans and bodily sounds. I fall onto his chest when another orgasm tears through the seams and spills out over us, but before I can catch my breath, he’s flipping me onto my back, stretching one leg wide with his as his tongue catches my nipple. He sucks on it at the same pace that he rides my body, sweat, and most likely blood, sliding between us.

His hand is on my throat again, his lips finally back hovering over mine. Sweat falls from his chin and lands on my cheek as he presses his forehead to mine. “You’re done,” he growls, slamming inside of me. If you cut me open and find the marrow in my bones, you’ll find his name stamped over every inch of it. “You’re mine.”

I reach for his neck, but he snatches my hands down and pins them over my head, burying his face between my shoulder and my head.

His hand reaches over and I hear the sound of something metal. Ice against my neck, and it’s not until it warms to the temperature of my body that I realize it’s the blunt edge of a knife.

I hold my breath as his thrusting slows.

He leans down to my mouth. “Trust me?”

“Yes,” I whisper instantly, and he drags the blade down the side and over my arm. “What if you cut too deep?”

“Trust me?” he repeats, his tone slightly edgier. “I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“Okay.” I gulp, squeezing my eyes shut. I know he won’t mean to kill me, but what if he takes it too far?

The knife is at my arm when he pauses. “I’ll start you somewhere easy, since your pussy is about to strangle my cock with anticipation.” He presses the tip into my flesh and I flinch, but don’t yelp. The pain isn’t unbearable, but the sting vibrating over the cut somehow finds its way down between my thighs. He must feel it, because he chuckles.

He drives into me again, bringing my arm up to his mouth and licks over the wound. The feeling is erotic and forbidden, and probably totally gross to most people, but for some reason, doing this with him only entices me further. It ignites a sinister side of me that only he could light. I drift into an overwhelming sense of pleasure, pain, and everything in between. He doesn’t stop until my thighs quiver and my eyes drift closed.

My limbs are heavy. I can barely peel my leg off Brantley when my eyes slowly peel open. “Ouch.” My head throbs, my muscles stabbing with pain and the ache vibrating between my legs is almost unbearable.

“Fuck, stop moving.”

“Well, I can’t actually move, to be honest.” I try to lift my leg again, but his hand lands on top.

Finally my eyes widen, and I take in the room. “Holy shit!” My attention flies to Brantley. Pink and red stains are smudged over the once white sheets, his hair matted and his lip cut.

I reach for it. “What happened!”

He groans. “Are you always this a

“When you’re hurt and bleeding? Yes! What happened last night?”

He whacks my hand away from his face. “Chill.”

I growl, shoving the sheets off my body. My feet are about to hit the floor when his arm is around my waist and I’m flying across the bed. He slams me into the mattress and rolls on top of me. “That was cute, Dea, but that growl will only get you fucked.”

I search his eyes, bringing my hand up to the smudges of blood that are over his cheek. “You’re a mess.”

“Mmm, but you should see him.”

“Who is him?” I say, and he slides off me.

“We can’t have that talk right now.”

“What talk?” I ask, wrapping the sheet around my body. Dried blood is caught in my hair and I touch it. “Please tell me it was your blood I was sucking off and not someone else’s…”

He laughs, tugging on his jeans commando style and leaving them unbuttoned. He turns to face me, and I pause. The stitches on his chest are fresh again, as if he needed them to be redone.