Imperius Ch. 07

He moved to the silk-soft skin of her throat, and her breathing turned still more shallow. He frightened her as obviously as he aroused her--not because she feared he wanted to do her harm—not because she didn't see what he would do to protect her--but because she saw too well. She saw the jagged, greedy hunger underneath the stoicism.

Her placed his palm against her back, holding her in place as he straightened, stepped back, and reached down to trace the folds of her sex, a low rumble rising in his throat when he felt dampness against his fingertips.

"Always, Lilah. Every time, you're wet for me."

Her breaths were shallow, and he could feel her effort to sustain the rhythm, to cling to some semblance of composure.

He lowered over her once more, touching his lips to the place just behind her ear, her hair soft against his cheek. "Good girl," he murmured, and was rewarded when her ass jerked against him.

His cock responded again, hard and straining for her now, and Magnus loosened his belt and fished it out, forcing himself to be patient long enough to line himself up with her sex carefully, long enough to ease into her slowly. His eyelids closed against the sensation, the tight wet heat of it and the instinct to drive deeper into her, rough and merciless.

Lilah moaned beneath him, her body turning on her in arousal, and he soothed her with caresses as one might soothe an anxious animal.

Her skin was warm to the touch, and so supple, and when he burrowed a hand into her hair, he was rewarded with a gush of arousal, pouring from her quim and saturating his cock.

His eyes rolled back and he thrust deep, so deep. She was so wet and pliant and needy around him, the muscles of her quim flexing and squeezing so snugly that he groaned, yearning for more.

She was gasping, her voice quaking with pleasure, but she wasn't screaming yet.

He would fix that.

He withdrew, and thrust in again, and she let out the cry he wanted to hear.

The smile that formed on his lips was more feral satisfaction than joy. His grip pressed into the supple flesh of her buttocks as he built a rhythm to the music of her rising cries, higher and more keening with each thrust. She was as aroused as he was now, her hips moving with him, and when he tightened his grip in her hair and pulled until her dainty back arched as far as it could go, he was rewarded with a whimpering sound rife with wanton pleasure.

He could see her expression in the mirror, lips parted and eyes so dilated they looked dark and deep. She was losing herself in the lust, hiding from him without even trying to.

His lips curled again, and he slowly withdrew his cock from her sex, savoring the moan that escaped her lips when he did so.

He was already coated in her slick, copious arousal, but he still reached down, burrowing his fingers into the dripping wetness of her quim, and dragged that wetness slowly, teasingly from there to the tight, rosebud-colored flesh of her other hole while spreading her cheeks so that he could admire the sight.

When she felt his fingers play against the tightness there, her eyes widened in realization and she squirmed, immediately frantic.

"Please, Magnus, I can't. I'll do anything else—," she jerked when he pushed a finger into her, slow and teasing, "please!"

"Lilah, Lilah," he shushed and soothed her tenderly, and caressed her hair until she quieted beneath him, her chest wracked with silent sobs.

"Hush, little dove. I think you know better than that," he whispered against her ear, his timbre so low and sensuous that he felt her clench more tightly around him in response—responding as positively to him as ever, as though her own body felt the protests of her mind were a mild inconvenience, and allied with him against her. He had a hundred favorite things about her body, but none of them made triumph swell in his chest more than that.

He continued to work her own arousal around the hole, massaging, loosening. It was so tight, so small, and she'd just confirmed for him that it was untouched. He would be the first, the first and only one to stretch this part of her. The air felt jagged in his throat, and he took his time, forcing himself to maintain composure.

She writhed in futility, clearly not knowing how to fight both her panic and her arousal simultaneously.

"You know that I want every part of you," he said, his voice laced with false and familiar sympathy. It was the sympathy he used to show her that he saw how piteous her struggle was, and how he relished it. "—especially the parts you don't want to give me," he added, and began pushing the head of his cock into her tight, resisting hole.

She whimpered, and covered her own mouth to stop from screaming.

"None of that," he snarled from behind her, and snatched her hand in his.

"I will hear you cry out, Lilah," he whispered, his tone transitioning back to velvety seduction, "—in pain and pleasure and every mewl of discomfort in between."

"A moment ago you told me to 'hush,'" she said, panicked into protesting.

"You'll do as I want at every moment that I want it," he growled against her ear, "And now I want you to be a good pet and scream for me."

Her chest heaved, the tears falling freely, all the resigned dignity she had worn when he entered the room utterly shed.

He burrowed his cock further in, watching her fall apart beautifully under him. It was such an overwhelmingly snug fit—velvety and tight and deliciously resistant—he struggled not to come apart himself, struggled not to plunge as deeply as he could go, and again and again, exultant at being the first to feel her ass clenching, the muscles rippling tightly. The first to make her feel this way.

But he waited, as her sobbing steadied and became muted, massaging her buttocks and allowing her to become used to his width. He gripped one of her dainty wrists in his hand, to feel her skin and her pulse, and to savor holding it in place.

He felt it when her senses betrayed her, when the little pleasure signals took over and drowned her panic enough that she felt her arousal more than the fear, and that was when he slowly, agonizingly pushed the rest of the way in.

He inhaled sharply, the pleasure spiking to something almost like pain. It was a luxury, a decadence he'd never felt before. He'd experienced the sensation, surely, though perhaps not as tight as this particular virginal hole, but it was the way she moved, a little bird he could keep in place with one hand even as she tried to hide from him, tried to let her hair fall over her face as she tried to fight off her own need to wail.

As before, her effort wouldn't be enough. When he withdrew slowly—excruciatingly slowly—she groaned low in her little throat.

He moved his hand there, the better to feel the tiny muscles in her neck with each sound, and then pushed in again.

She screamed, the sound shredded with desperation and desire and pain, and he repeated the thrust. Again, and again. She was coming close—so close—just from this, from him fucking her ass.

"Oh, god," she said, lost to herself, lost to anything but what he did to her. "Oh, god," she repeated, between screams and between thrusts. "Oh, my god."

This time, when he reached down and touched her quim, massaging at the first place she reacted to, she came apart immediately. The orgasm wrung her out, a long trembling, agonizing thing that left her body wracked and made her muscles tighten around him harder than ever. For once, he was gasping as much as she was in the wake of that sensation. The groan he released was a lion's rumble, coming from somewhere deep in his chest.

Not yet, little dove, he thought, as he came close himself. Not quite yet, but I will be.

He came, squeezing her hips roughly as he did and driving into her one last time as deeply as he could go, filling her ass with his seed—so much that when he stepped back to see, it dripped out, trickling down her pale thigh.

He kissed her neck and her cheek as she cried, brushing her hair away from her face tenderly.

~< >~

Author's Note: Thanks so much to HarbingerSovereign and Karaline for editing this chapter.

I'm always eager to know what readers think and feel about what I've written, and comments mean the world to me.