Page 57 of Devil

He tears his mouth away and gives me a fierce glare, easily resisting my attempts to push his head away from my body. “We don’t have to?” he asks. His expression is quizzical, polite even, for someone whose mouth is that wet. Whosechinis that wet.

“You have me here so you can use me,” I explain, miserable under that polite stare and with all the freshly cool air against my inflamed cunt. “Not…the other way around.”

An eyebrow lifts. “Do you think I’m not using you right now?”

This feels like a trick. I don’t know how to answer.

“I’ll spare you the suspense,” he says without waiting long. “I like licking cunt, and I’ve thought about licking yours since the first day I saw you. I’m eating you out because it gets me hard and also because I want to see my devout little virgin unravel at the slightest attention. And you know what I think?”

I shake my head. I never have.

“I think all I have to do is suck on that neglected clit and you’ll be screaming within two or three minutes. Clenching around nothing and wishing my fingers or my dick were in your pussy to clench around instead.” He traces a line up my thigh; I quiver. “Sweet, lonely Birdie, with such a pretty cunt and no one to take care of it, just walking around with this absolute beauty between her legs and letting it go to waste. And now I’m the only one who gets to make it wet and flushed and greedy, aren’t I? It’s going to belong to me, and not because I’ve paid for it but because I’mtakingit. I’m training it. I’m making it mine because I’m going to enjoy it whenever I want, all the time and as rough as I like. So if you think that’s notusing, then I regret to tell you that you’ll know better before long.”

I stare down my stomach at him, stunned, and he gives me a hard, mean smile, the smile I’m certain no one else has ever seen but me. And instead of saying anything else, he does exactly what he described and wraps his lips around my clit, sucking and fluttering his tongue against the sensitive bead. I make an unearthly moan, too frozen with euphoria to try to fight him off anymore, and my hand fists in his curls.

“My sweet slut,” he breathes against my skin, his exhales hot. “One time on my dick and you’re desperate to ride any part of me, even my tongue.”

“Ry,” I say pathetically, ashamed and angry to be called that word—and so close to climaxing anyway.

“Don’t be upset, darling,” he croons and then gives my clit several long, hot licks until I’m rubbing myself against his tongue. “Iwantyou to be a slut. My shy little slut, who blushes when I wink at her and then moans while being bent over like a whore. Turning you into an eager toy has been my jerk-off fantasy for years, and here you are, fresh off giving it up for the first time, having been bought and paid for, and it’s still going to be less than two minutes of tonguing that lonely, little clit until you go off. That’s something a slut would do, Birdie, you understand. Only a slut would come with a sore pussy. Only a slut would come for the man who bullied her into being his whore, and only a slut would do it after two minutes.”

The shame is like another tongue in a way, a tongue licking deep into my chest and deep into my belly, making me miserable, making me thrash, making my hips buck and my thoughts wild. And Bell doesn’t need but another second, and suddenly the bliss is shredding up from my pussy to my chest, snatching everything into a single, shuddering fist of pleasure and exploding outward, flinging pleasure everywhere in rolling, quaking waves. I’m making noises, humiliating ones, littleuh uh uhsas I try frantically to rub myself against his tongue, trying to mate with his mouth the same way he mated with me when he had me bent over in the studio. He laughs darkly at my pitiful state, but he lets me fuck his mouth, keeps his tongue flat and firm as I chase the choking pleasure with my hips.

When it finally subsides, he gets to his knees, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and then untucks the towel from his waist. If his erection looked needy before, now it looks dire, so swollen that every vein stands out in sharp relief, the head engorged and so stretched that the skin has a dull gleam to it. The slit at the tip is leaking.

“I need it again,” he says.

“Okay,” I whisper, again knowing that my consent isn’t necessary, that I’ve already given him a blanket yes for the year, and all I have left is the emergency lever of a single, deal-ending no. But I want him to know that I want it.

Maybe I am a slut after all.

Bell pushes a finger inside me, and I flinch, still tender from my initiation into his needs earlier today. He looks down at where his pointer finger has breached me up to the second knuckle and then sighs.

“I’m going to hell for this,” he says as he gets off the bed and goes to the narrow table on his side of the bed. “But I can’t stop myself. I have to fuck you again or I’ll lose my goddamn mind.” A laugh and then the sound of a drawer opening and then closing. “Not that I haven’t already when it comes to you.”

“I’m not that sore,” I hedge, and he levels me a look like he knows I’m lying before climbing onto the bed. He has a bottle and a condom; he settles on his knees between my legs.

“This has a small amount of lidocaine in it,” he says, handing the bottle to me. In the light coming from the bathroom, I can read the label. It’s a water-based lubricant. Four percent lidocaine, nothing outrageous, same as the bottle of Bactine in my medicine cabinet.

“So it’ll make me numb?”

He’s opening the condom packet and positioning the latex. “Not completely. It’s not safe to be entirely without sensation, since it’s important for you to feel if something is really wrong, but it might make things more bearable.” He starts rolling on the condom, sure and smooth.

“Have you…have you used it before?” I’m imagining legions of women in his bed, virgins, newly un-virgins, women familiar with sex but still struggling to keep up with his powerful libido.

“I have” comes the affirmative answer as he finishes with the condom and tosses the foil to the side. “Only on myself, though.”

“Why would you numb yourself?” I ask. “Wouldn’t that…make it not feel good?”

He laughs. “I didn’t numb my dick, Birdie,” he says warmly, and before I can ask what else he would have numbed, he adds, “We won’t use it if you don’t want to, but it works well with no other side effects, and you might be more comfortable.”

He is so strange sometimes, his power over me godlike in almost every sense, save for these peculiar carve outs in his mind. Birth control. Lidocaine. Maybe those things fall under the category of medical consent for him rather than sexual?

I don’t think it over for long. How can I when he’s kneeling in front of me like this, his drying hair now a crown of curls and the sunlight tracing over his carved collarbone and etched stomach, catching in the smattering of gold on his chest and below his navel and on the gleaming length of his latex-covered cock?

I want him to have sex with me, and the lubricant sounds nice, actually. A small solace for my overwhelmed body.

“Yes,” I say. “I want to try it.”