Claimed

ALEXIA GREEN. 

He doesn’t kiss me. 

Yet he holds me like fragile glass. 

He doesn’t look me in the eye. 

Yet his hands do the talking and the seeing. 

He pushes my hair away from my neck, capturing it in his fist till it hurts but not enough to yank my hair from my scalp. 

I don’t yelp from the pain. 

I moan. 

Like a wanton mess, my head lolls back and I give him a view of my chest offering it for his 

devouring. 

I don’t feel his mouth on my skin. 

No. 

He uses his teeth to taste me. 

He uses his teeth to bite me. To bite every inch of 

skin he can find. 

When I feel pain, the cool lick of his tongue 

comes crushing on my skin, massaging 

everything away. 

He tortuously builds a trail of marks from my neck till my stomach burns hot, and my head dissolves in a mixture of heat and needy passion. 

One fist in my hair to steady me, his other hand explores my body like an engineer learning the schematics of a building. I feel him on my stomach, patting my navel and doing the opposite of what I want. 

I want him to go south. Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

I want him to end this torture. 

To be done with his cruelty and we can move on. 

Can I call this torture though? 

If this was torture, he wouldn’t go through the formalities of touching me, he would do it and be 

done with it. 

If this was torture, I would be screaming, I would be running out of my mind trying to get him off 

of me. 

Just like that night with Brad and Rhett and everyone who was present that day, I would scream for this to be over. 

I’m two seconds away from convulsing in 

pleasure when his big hand takes my left breast in 

his grasp. 

His hand completely eats my breast till he is full with it and that’s not enough for him. 

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He squeezes, he kneads, his teeth land on my right nipple and he bites. Hard. 

My body arches off his lap, doses of pleasure coursing through my body like adrenaline, like a rush that mounts the throbbing in my pussy to a whole new level I never thought I would feel. 

Painfully full and pearled, he does the same to my left breast. 

Biting, licking, leaving room to want more and 

more. 

My thighs already feel slick against his crotch. 

The same crotch that is covered with suit pants 

and is as hard as iron beneath me. 

The same crotch that is poking my pussy and wanting to be free. 

The same crotch my pussy is hauntingly begging 

for. 

I’m too distracted with him licking the underside of my boobs to notice his hand disappear 

between us. 

The next time I feel Christian Volkov, two of his thick fingers pump inside my eager pussy embedding themselves all the way to the hilt till my knees shake and my hands reach out to hold his shoulders. 

He doesn’t move. 

Two seconds with two of his fingers inside me 

and I lose it. 

My hips start bucking, my eyes fall down to his. 

I don’t speak. He doesn’t either. 

What he sees is his slave bouncing up and down his fingers like a greedy person who’s never felt anything remotely good as this. 

I don’t correct his thoughts. Because it’s the truth. 

One finger the other night felt good.. 

Two fingers? They stretch me out, they hit my g–spot. They cross me to the promised land. 

A spot only this bastard discovered. 

Rhett never made me feel like this. Rhett never had sex with me till my insides started tingling. Rhett never found that spot that Vicious has found with his fingers only and not the real thing. 

My insides shouldn’t be tingling in the first place. 

But I would be lying if I said listening to my pussy take his fingers in and out didn’t make me weep 

for more. 

My toes curl, I feel like peeing, my eyes hold his glaring ones and I ride out my orgasm with a staring contest going on between us. 

What I don’t expect next? 

I don’t expect this man to stand with me naked in 

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his arms. 

I don’t expect this man to smack my body against a wall slightly, 

I don’t expect this man to gp my hips, place my thighs on each of his shoulders and bury his head between my legs. 

My back arches off the wall when his mouth latches on my clit sucking it into his warm mouth and teasing it with a tongue that could go to a war of dueling and win that competition with a gold 

prize. 

Rhett never went down on me. He said he would 

never kneel for a 

woman, 

Christian isn’t exactly kneeling and he isn’t. exactly going down on me in the literal sense but the way he eats me out has my lungs gasping for 

air. 

His teeth grasp my little mound tugging slightly and letting it go before his tongue licks everything his fingers did for me. 

Licking me clean. 

He doesn’t give me time to come down from a 

high. 

His tongue is everywhere, between my folds, back to my clit, hovering outside my hole before he dives in like he could care less about me having a 

heart attack. 

This is him seeking his own pleasure, I realize. This is him feeding off his favorite meal and leaving no crumbs. 

As soon as another wave of orgasm hits me and warm liquid trickles down my legs to Christian’s shoulders, spraying everywhere, Christian 

murmurs with excitement in his voice. 

“A squirter.” 

I realize then and then, I might have challenged a maniac and this angry maniac might make sure I never make it to see the light of day again.