Chapter 149 - ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY NINE

Chapter 149: Chapter ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY NINE

ANGEL

"Then try harder." He released my face and sighed heavily. "You know what? We’ll wait. I’ll give you... let’s say sixty seconds. One minute to get yourself under control. And then we’re going to have a conversation about consequences. Sound fair?"

Nothing about my entire fucking life since the day he’d taken me had been even remotely fair.

But I nodded anyway, what choice did I have?

I stayed on my knees, still clinging to his legs like he was a life raft instead of the iceberg that had already sunk my ship. Tried desperately to slow my breathing. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In. Out. Like those yoga videos I used to watch when I was bored. Back when my biggest problem was what to order Mrs Martha to prepare for dinner.

Breathe in the positive energy. Breathe out the negative.

Breathe in the psychopath. Breathe out the urge to scream.

"There you go." Damien’s hand returned to my head, petting slowly. Approving. "Good girl. See? You can do it when you try. You just need the right motivation." He glanced at his wristwatch. "You still got... twenty seconds. Take your time."

"Stop t-talking like this," I choked out, my fingers curling tighter into the fabric of his pants. "Please just stop. Stop playing these games. Stop hunting me. Stop counting. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore, Damien. Please. Whatever you want from me, just tell me and I’ll do it. But please stop—"

"Stop? But the fun has barely started," He grabbed my chin and tilted my head up. And that’s when I saw it.

"You want me to stop?"

The bulge in his pants had grown. Visibly. Massively. Straining against the zipper, forming a tent that was impossible to ignore when it was six inches from my face.

"Here’s the problem with that, baby girl." He rolled his hips forward, pressing that bulge against my cheek. The heat of it seared through the fabric, branding me. "The game got Daddy a little worked up."

I did nothing but kneel there with his cock pressed against my face through his pants, feeling the heat of it, the size of it, the way it twitched against my skin like it had a heartbeat of its own. Like it was alive. Hungry and just as insane as the man it was attached to.

"Feel that?" He ground against me slowly, dragging that thick ridge across my cheekbone. "Feel what you do to me? Watching you run..." Another slow roll of his hips. "Hearing you cry..." And another. "Finding you all curled up and trembling and terrified..."

His head fell back slightly, his eyes half-closing with pleasure. A low groan escaped his throat, rough and wanting.

"It does something to me, Angel. I can’t help it." He looked down at me again, pupils blown so wide his eyes looked black. "You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re scared. Makes me want to do terrible things to you. Even more terrible than usual."

He was dry-humping my face while I knelt at his feet and wept.

I stared up at him. At those grey eyes that held madness and want in equal measure. At the bulge pressing against my face, impossible to ignore, demanding attention.

And somewhere in the wreckage of my mind, a single thought emerged.

If I pleased him, maybe he’d change his mind. I was already broken. Already on my knees with his cock in my face. I was so far past dignity that I couldn’t even see it in the rearview mirror.

Might as well make it count.

"Let me." My voice came out trembling, but clear enough. "Let me make you feel good, Daddy. Please. Let me show you I can be good."

Damien’s breath caught audibly.

His pupils dilated further, the grey almost entirely swallowed by black. "Yeah?" His voice dropped an octave, rough with want. "You want to make Daddy feel good, baby girl? After running from me? After making me chase you through my own hospital like a goddamn animal?"

I nodded frantically. "Yes. Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry I ran. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you. Please. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good."

His hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back until my throat was exposed. Vulnerable. He could snap my neck like this. Could crush my windpipe with one hand. I knew he was thinking about it—could see it in the way his eyes traced the line of my throat, considering.

But then his gaze dropped lower. To my lips. And the consideration turned to hunger.

"What would you do?" He asked, and there was something dark and testing in his tone, as if he wanted to see exactly how far I’d debase myself. How deep I’d dig my own grave. "Tell Daddy specifically. What would my scared little girl do to avoid the consequences of running from Daddy?"

"Anything." I said with no hesitation. No thought. Just the word, ripping out of me like a survival instinct. "Anything you want. Whatever you want. However you want it."

"Anything?" He drew the word out, tasting it. "That’s a dangerous word, Angel. Dangerous promises from a desperate girl. You sure you mean it?"

"I mean it." My hands were already reaching for his belt, trembling so badly I could barely grip the leather. "Please, Daddy. Let me show you. Let me prove it."

He watched me fumble with his buckle, making no move to help. Just stood there with that hungry smile while I struggled with shaking hands to undo his belt, his button, his zipper. He was enjoying this—my desperation, my fear, the way I was willing to degrade myself just for the chance that he might show mercy.

He wouldn’t show mercy. I knew that. Deep down, in the part of me that still remembered who I was before all this, I knew that Damien didn’t have mercy in him.

It had been carved out a long time ago, replaced by something dark, bottomless and ravenous.

But hope was a stubborn thing. It refused to die no matter how many times it got kicked in the teeth.

When I finally got his pants open, I pulled him out and wrapped my fingers around his length. He let out a groan that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest, his hips bucking slightly into my grip.

He was thick and hard, already leaking at the tip, his cock twitching in my grip like it was as eager as he was. Veins standing out along the shaft, the head flushed and swollen. I’d touched this cock hundreds of times. Had it in my mouth, my pussy, my ass. Had learned every ridge and vein and sensitive spot because my survival depended on knowing how to please him.

And now I was going to use that knowledge to save my baby.

"Bad girl," he breathed, looking down at me with something like awe. Pride. "Now show Daddy what that nasty little mouth can do."

I leaned forward, lips parting—

"Wait." His hand shot out, gripping my chin, stopping me an inch from his cock. The head brushed against my lips but he didn’t let me close the distance. "Not yet. I want to enjoy this."

He traced the head of his cock across my lips. Painting them with the precum leaking from his tip like he was applying lipstick.

"There," he murmured, admiring his work. His voice had gone deeper, dripping with satisfaction. "Pretty. Now lick it off. Slowly. Show Daddy that tongue."

My tongue darted out, tasting salt and musk. He groaned, his cock twitching against my mouth, leaving another smear of precum on my cheek.

"Good girl. Now kiss it. Show Daddy how much you want him."

I pressed my lips to the tip. Then to the shaft. Working my way down and back up while he watched with those dark, hungry eyes. Worshipping him with my mouth because that’s what he wanted. That’s what would save my baby.

Maybe.

"You know what I was thinking about during our little chase? Getting you to submit like this," He thrust forward slightly, bumping the head against my lips. "Were you thinking about it too? Is that why you ran? Wanted Daddy to catch you and punish you?"

I shook my head, still pressing kisses to his length. Still worshipping.

"No? So you’re just naturally disobedient." He sighed dramatically. "We’ll have to work on that. Open up, baby girl. Time for the main course."

I took him in deeper.

I sucked. Licked. Took him deeper than was comfortable because I knew he liked it when I struggled. When I gagged and choked, tears leaking from my eyes. He’d told me once that watching me cry while I sucked his cock made him feel like a god.

I was making him feel like a god now. Giving him exactly what he wanted. Praying it would be enough.