Page 95 of Sing For Us

The world narrows to pure survival and pleasure. Her gag reflex hits her immediately—but she pushes through it. Every instinct in her body is telling her to stop, but her jaw remains unlocked. I groan, a low, gravelly sound that vibrates throughout the room. I can’t push further in her mouth, but I don’t need to. Lana grabs my ass cheeks and forces me forward.

Her cries and my moans are the perfect deadly serenade.

I cum inside her mouth and, just like I licked her clean, she does the same to me. Once she’s done, she gets up and uncuffs me. I don’t want to waste a second of my time with her, so I place my hands on her waist.

For these few seconds, engulfed by the heat and the rhythmic, crushing pressure of our bodies pressed against each other, the hospital, the grief, and the pain vanished. There was only the friction, the dangerous rhythm, and the terrifying relief of letting the darkness take over.

In this moment I realize something—I would gladly fall from grace for her.

I show my devotion to her by throwing her on my bed and looking at her like she’s the last meal I’ll ever eat.

Chapter thirty-four

Lana

If hungry had a face, it would be Noa. His stare isn’t piercing through my soul, it’s obliterating it.

He crawls over me and starts kissing my nipples, while he pushes a finger inside me. His mouth is attacking both my tits, and he is feasting on them like they’re the greatest dessert he’s ever tried.

Without skipping a beat, he pushes himself inside me, and I sink into the mattress. His pace isn’t gentle, it’s punishing. The bed rattles, and the wood creaks. I don’t stay in one position because of Noa’s speed and agility. He is moving at such a fast rhythm we have moved up the bed.

When I think that he’s going to slow down, he grabs my ankles and pulls them upward. I’m forced to spread my thighs even more, and the sensation overtakes me. He is grunting in pleasure and fully immersed in fucking me into oblivion.

“Your cunt is made for me. And only me!” he shouts at me as he brings my feet to his mouth. He kisses my right ankle and then my left. I moan in response.

When I look at him, he’s angry.

“What the fuck did I just say?”

Thrust.

“I…I…that my cunt is yours!”

Thrust.

“Tell me that your cunt is mine. Now!”

Thrust.

“Fuck you, Noa!” Now it’s my turn to scream. I hold his gaze and grin at him. Daring him to punish me.

Noa pulls out and pushes back in so hard that I can feel him in my stomach. The air is knocked out of me, and I spread my arms on the bed—all out of breath. Tears prickle my eyes as he does it again.

And again.

And again.

He abruptly pushes my legs down and backs up the bed, and takes me with him. He sits on the edge of the bed and touches the floor with his leg. His other leg is bent at the knee.

“Come and ride your daddy, you dirty fucking slut.” I shouldn’t even try to interpret that as a question; it’s a demand.

I crawl to him over the bed, and when I want to straddle him, he stops me. He grabs the back of my head and turns me around.

“Sit on my dick and ride me until your legs fall off.”

I bend my leg at the knee while my other joins his on the floor.

Then I sink onto him and start grinding on him. I move in a slow, confident grace, not wanting to stop whatever it is that we’re doing. The lack of eye contact doesn’t diminish our connection; instead it heightens the awareness of every breath we take. The atmosphere thickens, and this is a moment defined by trust and the intoxicating friction of being close yet just out of reach.