Chapter 138 - ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY EIGHT

Chapter 138: Chapter ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY EIGHT

ANGEL

"Daddy," Damien mocked, his voice dark with jealousy, or maybe just his wounded pride. "Couldn’t keep you." He slapped his cock against my cheek again. "I can. I fucking will."

"Keep telling yourself that." I smiled up at him, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

His nostrils flared and I caught that unsettled glint in his eyes again—that flicker of uncertainty he was trying so hard to hide. The look vanished again, replaced by mockery shrouding his eyes.

"You want to know what helps me sleep at night, baby girl?" He rubbed his cock across my lips again, "Knowing that no matter how much venom comes out of this pretty little hole, I’m still going to fuck it. You know I’m still going to fill it with my cum and make you swallow every drop and you’ll thank me for it."

"I’d rather choke."

"That can be arranged." He gripped my jaw with crushing force.

"Basta—" I barely managed to get the words out before his cock pushed past my lips, thick and demanding, filling my mouth so completely I couldn’t breathe.

I gagged as he hit the back of my throat, my hands flying up to push at his thighs, my nails digging into his flesh through the dark fabric of his pants.

"There we go," he breathed, "That’s better. Less talking. More choking."

I bit down.

Hard.

ANGEL

And even harder until I tasted metal—sharp and coppery mixing with the salt of him on my tongue.

Damien growled out a curse and yanked himself free, staring down at me with a thunderstorm glare. Blood beaded on his shaft where my teeth had broken skin. I fucking hoped it scarred.

"You little bitch!" He snarled.

I laughed maniacally, the sound wild and unhinged even to my own ears. Blood on my lips. His blood. It felt like victory. "I’m not some docile little toy you can just shove your cock into whenever you feel like it—ARGH!"

His hand cracked across my face so hard my vision exploded into white static. The force of it sent me tumbling sideways on the bed, my cheek burning, ears ringing from the impact. I tasted copper—my own blood this time, mixing with his.

"Fuck you, fuck you, Damien!" I screamed, trying to push myself up, but he was already on me—flipping me onto my stomach with terrifying ease, one hand pressing my face into the mattress while the other yanked my hips up like I weighed nothing.

"Shut the fuck up."

His voice was ice. No playfulness left. No dark amusement lurking underneath. Just something cold and terrifying that made every hair on my body stand on end. I’d pushed him past his limits. Past the games. Into something real.

"You want to bite?" He ripped my shorts down, baring my ass to the cool air. His hand came down with a crack that echoed through the room like a gunshot. "You want to play rough?"

Another slap, harder than the first. A scream tore from my throat that I couldn’t hold back.

He didn’t pause. Didn’t hesitate. Just kept going.

"Fine."

Slap.

"Let’s."

Slap.

"Play."

Slap.

"Rough."

Each word punctuated by another brutal crack of his palm against my ass. The pain was blinding—white-hot and all-consuming. I lost count after five, my face pressed into the mattress, muffling my screams as he spanked me over and over until my skin felt like it was being flayed from the muscle.

"Every time you fight me—" Slap. "—every time you bite—" Slap. "—every time you think you can fucking hurt me—" Slap. "—I will remind you exactly who owns this ass."

"Fuck you!" The words came out distorted against the sheets, more sob than scream.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back so far my spine screamed in protest. I could feel vertebrae grinding together, could feel the strain in my neck muscles as he bent me like a bow.

"Oh, baby girl."

His hand came down on my ass again, right where the skin was already burning, already swelling, and I screamed as pain fired through every nerve in my body. Tears were streaming down my face now—I couldn’t stop them, couldn’t control anything about my body’s response to the assault.

"Are you going to bite me again?"

"Yes!" I spat, pure defiance even through the pain, even through the tears. "Yes, I’ll fucking bite you again! I’ll bite your cock off and chew it up and spit it in your face, you psychotic piece of shit—"

He laughed. Cold and mean and utterly devoid of humanity.

"Fuck, you’re stubborn." He flipped me onto my back, crawling over me like a predator pinning its prey.

"Time to break that out of you."

He grabbed my thighs and yanked them apart, wedging himself between my legs before I could even think to resist. I tried to close them, tried to twist away, but he was stronger. So much stronger. And I was already weakened from the spanking, my body trembling and spent.

"Here’s what’s going to happen." His voice was still furiously dark, but controlled now. Somehow that was worse than the rage. "You hurt my cock. You bit it until it bled. And now you’re going to apologize."

"I’m not apologizing to you—"

He slapped my pussy.

The shock of it stole my breath. Not the pain—though there was pain—but the intimacy of it. The violation. His hand between my legs, striking me.

"What was that?" He rubbed his palm over my stinging flesh. "I didn’t quite hear you."

"I said I’m not—"

Another slap, harder this time, landing directly on my clit.

I gasped, my hips bucking involuntarily, my whole body jerking against the sheets.

"You bit my cock, Angel." He slapped me again, then rubbed the sting, his fingers sliding through the wetness that had gathered there despite everything. Despite the pain. Despite the humiliation. My body betraying me the way it always did with him.