The rain that had soaked the island stopped.
The storm that erupted from him continued.
She convinced him to come inside, barely able to wrangle him into his cell, before he shoved her against the heavy door and slam inside of her again. Her dress, ripped apart, fell in tatters next to his slacks; silk threaded fabrics destroyed by rain and their combined anguish and passion.
Her grunts reverberated against the steel as those three locking clicks sealed them inside. She drooled against the metal door, cheek pressed against it as Tristan lifted her leg and shoved forward. Even if she wanted to push him away, her left leg was pressed tightly against his chest, as if melting into it, and her left shoulder exposed.
The powerful, terrifying Lady Dante was at his mercy.
He was insatiable, all of his frustrations, his anguish, his helplessness coming forward in rocking waves. His rage and Lust, broke through the dam of primal fear. All he wanted to do was fuck her until she was a gasping, mewling mess.
He wouldn’t stop until she shattered.
He clenched his teeth and bit the back of her shin, sucking on the firm flesh. She tasted of smoke and salt. Her inner muscles coiled and tightened, and he groaned, feeling his cock throbbed in that molten embrace. “You’re…you’re going to cum again.”
She panted, her eyes hazy, scarlet jewels hidden under heavily lidded eyes. Her body bent sharply as he pressed harder against him, forcing her right side to press against the steel door. Her left knee bent and she whimpered, trying to hold back against that growing orgasm boiling in her loins.
He chuckled darkly, gripping her leg with one hand, nails digging into bronze skin. His other moved towards their connection and slowly gave one, torturous, stroke against her clit. Her eyes widened, her breath hitched, held in, and then her body, taut with resistance, loosened. Juices splashed onto the tattered pile as she succumbed, her eyes rolling back before closing.
Tristan moaned, chewing on his lip. “You’re such a fucking mess.” He released her leg, gripping her plump, firm bottom, spreading the cheeks as he ground his straining, ravenous girth against her coiling inner walls. He pressed her tightly against the door, forcing her upright, legs closed together. Tristan cooed, the sudden tightness making his eyes fluttering as he held her captive with his body. He jerked his hips upwards, laughing airily at the sudden squeaked that escaped her throat.
He never felt so powerful before.
He wondered if she ever felt so vulnerable before.
“I need you…”
“Tristan!” She clenched her teeth, her throat vibrating with a snarl as another thrust jolted her onto the tips of her toes. Her forehead ground against the door, as the humiliating pleasure made it so fucking hard to focus. She slammed her fist against the steel, feeling it concave with the impact.
That thud thundered through the room and Tristan stopped, one hand gripping her breasts, clenching tightly, fingers almost melting into her flesh, “Are you getting…angry, Wrath?”
His voice cracked along her spine like lightning, and she bit her bottom lip. His breath coiled against her ear, and she shivered in their shared silence.
It was a battle of wills.
Her molten sex undulating and coiling around his pulsing shaft.
He was desperate to go deeper, to break her apart.
She was too desperate to let him go.
She made a promise.
“We won’t fight anymore…”
“The-the bed. Let’s go to the bed.” Her voice shook, the serrated edge of the beast hiding underneath. It slithered into the magma of her volatile psyche, its presence only known by her knuckles grinding against the small crater made with her fist.
The hand that was not busying itself with pulling on her nipple slid down her stomach, going back between her thighs. He clenched his teeth, feeling her muscles milk him for everything he had. He lowered his head, his tongue running up from the bottom of her neck to the back of her ear, tasting the smoky salt that permeated from her flesh. “I wonder how thick this door is.” His fingers shackled her hand to the door, and he pulled his hips down and back, before surging up, salivating against her shoulder. “I wonder if your guards, your servants, your ‘family’ can hear your squeals.”
How loud can I make you sing…?
She shook her head, her curls flicking against his cheek, “F-Fuck! The bed, let’s go to the bed!” She jerked her head to the side, trying to look at him. “I’m go-going numb! You’re driving me crazy!”
Funny, she did the same to him.
In fact, fucking her against the wall, a demented truth to the dream-like lie of the penthouse, seemed to cement the idea that they were both absolutely fucking insane.
He was crazy.
He was fucking crazy.
His cock plunge upwards, hitting the edge of the abyss that made Ira’s teeth chatter. He couldn’t even think of dragging her to the bed, not when he was so close to the edge. He felt blood surging up the veins of his neck, burning against his scars. Another load surged from his tightening loins and into her weeping depths. Sparks of electric white blinded him; the pleasure of his release was that one addicting slice of heaven in this Hell.
She must be so full of him. As she had shattered and invaded his mind, he was invading her body, painting her insides with scalding white. And no matter how many times he emptied himself, it wasn’t enough.
The Devil turned him into a demon.
He was, still, frustratingly hard. Even though he felt a deep emptiness in his gut, this new, mutilated form had so much more to give and demand. He was not satisfied.
She promised him everything.
He pulled back, releasing her wrist. He shook his head, his hand pressed against his hair, running it back, smearing the mix of sweat, rain, and Ira’s juices into his scalp. His brow furrowed as he noted that despite all he was putting her through, she was still standing!
True, her body was quivering and her knees almost buckled. Her mind was in a fog and when she finally turned to look at him, there was a glaze over her ruby eyes. They sparkled and her skin glittered with sweat.
Why…
Why was she still so beautiful?
“You’re the one who broke my leg. Who tazed me; almost killed me. How many times have you beaten the shit out of me?” He let the memories take hold of him, transforming his uncomfortable attraction to a knife. “Oh, but poor Ira is tired and so sore… Poor Wrath; get on the bed since your legs are so numb.”
His word bit and ground into her mind like a starving, rabid dog. It was rotten and the knife he plunged with his mouth moved through flesh like his cock did. The room become humid and he could see her upper lip lift and twitch; the whites of her teeth bearing under her lip.
The beast was prowling under her skin.
It hungered for satisfaction.
She shoved back from the door and they stumbled onto the bed, a mess of limbs, passion and anguish colliding onto the mattress. Even though those words pissed her off, she bit down onto the pillow instead, shredded fabric as her back arched against his chest. Her head was turned to the side, glaring at him.
Challenging him.
He glared back, a slight smirk on his face, sweat from his scarred, ivory chin landing on her shoulder blades. He slid back into her, hitting the deepest part of her and making her snarl against the feather remains of the down cushion, “Does this feel better?” He was ravenous, smashing her chiseled body into the bed, “I have so much to take.”
Ira bit her bottom lip, a mix of a whimper and growl hiding in her throat. She closed her eyes, nodding.
“I have so much to give you…”
Tristan thought he could hear her mumbling against sheets.
“All I have is yours…because I love you…Tristan.”
***
For a much fluffier, sweeter, while also realistic slice of life romance, check out MimSS's 3 Paths to Love! An accessible and sweet Omegaverse story that centers on the lives of three brothers and the men who love them. Check it out!
Link in the Description!
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