Chapter 157 - ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY SEVEN

Chapter 157: Chapter ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY SEVEN

ANGEL

I let him.

This bastard had stolen me from Daddy and gotten me pregnant. The right thing to do was to push him away. Bite his lip until it bled. Snap out of this pathetic, needy state I’d fallen into.

But then what?

I’d go back to being lonely and miserable. Counting ceiling tiles and talking to myself. Going slowly insane in this beautiful prison while he watched from the shadows.

I was so tired of fighting.

I didn’t want to be alone anymore.

It felt too good to obey.

He lay me back on the bed, his body covering mine, his weight pressing me into the mattress in a way that should have felt suffocating but instead felt like safety.

God, I was fucked up.

He undressed me slowly, peeling away the shirt I was wearing—his shirt, the only thing I had on. His eyes darkened as my body was revealed to him, inch by inch.

His mouth followed his hands, kissing every inch of skin he revealed.

My neck.

My collarbone.

The swell of my breasts, where he lingered, sucking and biting until I was gasping, until the marks bloomed red against my pale skin like flowers made of bruises.

"Fuck," he breathed, sitting back on his heels to look at me. "Every time I see you naked, I think you can’t possibly get more beautiful. And every time, I’m wrong." He leaned to trap one nipple in his mouth again. "You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And all mine. Every inch of you—mine."

His teeth closed around the nipple—neither gentle nor painful, that edge between the two that made my back arch and a whimper escape my throat. He sucked hard, then harder, his hand kneading my other breast roughly while his mouth worked.

"These are getting bigger," he said, pulling back to admire his work. "Fuller. Filling up with milk for our baby." He squeezed, watching the flesh spill between his fingers. "I can’t fucking wait to taste you when you’re nursing. Can’t wait to drink from you while our baby sleeps."

I used to hate and feel disgusted by his possessive, depraved words.

But today, I didn’t feel repulsed.

Not in the least bit.

My body was responding. I could feel the heat building between my legs, the ache that demanded to be satisfied. My traitorous body didn’t care about right and wrong. It just wanted.

And Damien knew exactly how to give it what it wanted.

He kissed down my stomach, pausing at the small swell where our baby grew.

"Hey there, little one. Daddy missed you. You’ve been keeping Mommy company while I was away, haven’t you?"

Then his mouth moved lower, and my breath caught in my throat.

He kissed down my hip bone, his tongue tracing the crease of my thigh, purposefully avoiding where I needed him most. I squirmed, and he laughed—a low, dark sound that vibrated against my skin.

"Impatient?"

"Damien—"

"Use your words, Angel." He pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, so close but not close enough. "Tell Daddy what you want."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "You know what I want."

"I do." Another kiss, higher this time. I could feel his breath against my folds, hot and teasing. "But I want to hear you say it. I want to hear my good girl beg."

The words stuck in my throat. "Please," I surrendered.

"Please what?"

"Please... touch me."

"Touch you where?" He nuzzled against my mound, inhaling deeply. "Here? Is this where my baby girl needs Daddy’s mouth?"

"Yes," I gasped. "Yes, please, Damien—"

"That’s not my name right now." His voice lowered, warning. "Try again."

My face burned. "Daddy. Please, Daddy."

"Good girl."

He spread me open with his fingers, exposing me completely, and made a sound low in his throat—something between a groan and a growl.

"I’ve been thinking about this cunt every day," he said, his breath hot against my mound. "Thinking about how tight it grips me. How wet it gets when I touch you. How it’s going to stretch around our baby when you push it out."

His fingers traced my folds, barely touching, and I squirmed beneath him.

"You’re already soaked for me. Your pussy missed Daddy, didn’t it? Missed being filled up and fucked properly."

"Daddy—"

"Shh." He spread me open with his fingers, exposing me completely. "Let me look at you. Let me see what belongs to me."

He stared at my cunt like it was art in a gallery. One finger traced my opening, dipping inside just barely before withdrawing.

"So pink," he murmured. "So pretty. So fucking desperate for my mouth." He leaned in and inhaled again, deeper this time, his nose pressing against me. "And the smell of you—fuck, Angel. I could get drunk on this. Could live between your thighs and never need anything else."

Then his mouth was on me, and all coherent thought fled my brain.

He ate me like a man starving.

His tongue pushed inside me, fucking me with it, his nose grinding against my clit. His hands gripped my thighs, holding them open, keeping me spread and helpless while he feasted on me like I was his last meal.

"Fuck," I gasped, my hands fisting in his hair. "Damien—oh god—"

He pulled back just long enough to growl, almost angrily, "That’s not my name."

"Daddy," I corrected, breathless. "Daddy, please—"

"Please what? Please stop?" He sucked my clit into his mouth, hard, then released it with a wet pop. "Or please don’t ever stop?"

"Don’t stop. Please don’t stop—"

"That’s my girl."

He buried his face between my thighs and went to work. Licking, sucking, fucking me with his tongue while his fingers found my clit and rubbed in tight, merciless circles.

"Scream, baby girl." His voice was muffled against my flesh, his breath hot on my most sensitive places. "Let Daddy hear you. Let me hear how good I make you feel. How much you missed having my mouth on this pretty cunt."

He sucked my clit into his mouth, hard, and I shattered.

The orgasm ripped through me without warning, my back arching off the bed, my thighs clamping around his head. I came with a cry that sounded more like a sob, pleasure and shame and relief all tangled together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the others began.

But he didn’t stop.

"One more," he growled, his fingers replacing his tongue inside me, crooking upward to find that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes. "Give Daddy one more."

"I can’t—it’s too much—"

"You can." He added a third finger, stretching me wide. "You can take whatever Daddy gives you. You were made to take whatever I give you."

I came again. Harder this time, my whole body convulsing, tears leaking from my eyes.

And still, he didn’t stop.

His mouth moved to my clit, sucking and flicking while his fingers pumped in and out of me. Then I felt his other hand drift lower, felt a wet finger circle my ass.

"Daddy—"

"Shh." He coated the finger with my arousal. "Relax for me, baby girl. Let Daddy in everywhere."

The finger pressed inside, past the tight ring of muscle, and the sensation—the fullness, the pain, the dark pleasure of being filled in both places at once—pushed me over another edge.

I came screaming, both holes clenching around him, my body shaking apart like it might never come back together.

"That’s three," he said, satisfaction dripping from every word. "Think you can give me a fourth?"

"Please," I sobbed. "Please, I can’t—"

"You can. You will." His fingers moved faster, harder, fucking both holes in a rhythm that was driving me insane. "Because you’re mine, Angel. Every hole, every inch, every orgasm—mine to take. Mine to give. Mine to own."

I came again. And again. I lost count after that.

He played my body like an instrument, drawing orgasm after orgasm from me until I was nothing but sensation, nothing but need, nothing but his. Until I was begging but couldn’t remember what I was begging for—more or less.

Mercy or death.

When he finally pulled away, his face was glistening with me. His lips, his chin, even his cheeks—covered in my release. He looked down at me with those grey eyes, dark now with want, and smiled like he’d just conquered the world.

"Open your mouth."

I obeyed without thinking.

He crawled up my body and kissed me, his tongue pushing past my lips, and I tasted myself on him—salt and musk. The taste of us was intoxicating.

I moaned into his mouth and pulled him closer. Sucked his tongue like I was starving for it. I licked my own pleasure from his lips and wanted more.

"Filthy girl," he murmured approvingly against my mouth. "I love you, little girl," he whispered against my lips. "More than anything in this world. I love you more than my own life. More than sanity or reason or anything that came before you."

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. The words stuck in my throat like a hard pill I couldn’t swallow.

"Say it back," he whispered. "Tell me you love me, Angel."