I hadn't imagined it. The blackness stamped on his flesh was totally real.
I couldn't help myself. I pressed my face to the edge of his abs and kissed him, moving my lips up when his fingers pinched my chin and guided me.
Those addictive, dangerous fingers went through my hair again, caught the ends, and pulled. “Keep going, babe. Taste your sir.”
And I did. I tasted hate and addiction in every drop of his sweat, his delirious scent. I shuddered when his tattoos were underneath my tongue, Evan's power and mystery was there, achingly intimate. When I got as far as I could, he began to guide me down, tugging at my hair.
God, he was built. It was more obvious than ever with my mouth moving against his muscle, amazed that a man could sculpt his flesh like this. It was a universe away from the skinny and portly extremes men had on their bones in Beacon Grove.
Sin tastes bitter as ash. When you gorge, my children, gorge until you're sick. You'll remember that taste. No matter if it's filling your gut or brushing your tongue with unholy poison.
Remember it, and despite it, for it's the best way to understand the evil in temptations.
More of the Prophet's words burned in my brain. My tongue flicked against Evan's skin, searching for the revulsion I'd felt before, the poison, the sin.
Nothing.
Evan tasted simply wonderful. He was smooth, warm, and intoxicating. There wasn't a hint of evil on his flesh, only raging desire.
Scary? Hell yes. It terrified me to know my instincts about this man were right, that he only tortured me because he had to.
I only wanted to know why. What would drive a man to do this to another human being?
My chin scraped against the top of his jeans. His free hand reached and pulled. The gigantic bulge in the denim was insanely close to my lips, close to driving me crazy with new forbidden want.
“Open it,” he said, shifting back a little to give me access to his fly.
I looked at him. He was dead serious, commanding. I couldn't have said no if I wanted to, and the last thing I wanted to do was deny this.
My fingers went for his zipper. When it was open, he pushed his hand against the lump. A huge pulsing erection sprang out, and the fire that hadn't stopped churning in my belly exploded.
His cock was obscene and gorgeous at once. It pulsed around his fingers on the base, and he gripped it, rolling his fingers over it in one tight fist. Pearly fluid collected at the head and then oozed down, a single sticky droplet falling to the floor.
I jerked my head back when he pushed his tip close.
“Suck it, babe. For a girl your age, you got a lot of things to learn about men. Need to help your pretty ass make up for lost time. Take it.”
He grabbed my hand and pushed it to his shaft, replacing his own. It was warm and alive in my fingers. Tightening them around it was natural, and it rewarded me with a fiercer jerk when I caught the underside with my thumb.
“Open your sweet red lips. Fuck, you'll feel so goddamned good wrapped around me...” He couldn't wait anymore.
His other hand pushed at my head, renewing its grip on my hair. I barely opened my mouth in time to slide down and take his swollen head in my mouth. And he pushed me lower, lower, low enough to make me worry about how I'd keep breathing.
He shoved my head and locked me on his flesh. I panicked, spitting and grunting around his dick.
“Shhh. Just relax and open up. You'll thank me for this lesson later, babe.” His voice lowered to a growl. “This is what we call deep throating cock. Better get used to it because it's what a man expects with the hot fucking sugar you call lips.”
He pushed me to the brink. I thought I'd choke or die if I took any more down my throat, but then he relaxed, and I went sailing up in desperation. I moved until the back of my head hit his stiff, unmoving hand.
He pushed. Down I went.
Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!
I should've known. Just when I thought he was being sweet, he threw me into another test, another thing to torment and make me hate him.
If I had to satisfy him like this, then I wasn't going to let him know he was getting to me. I summoned up all my courage and calm and let his hand guide me. He began to thrust, driving his hips up to my lips, burying me deep on his cock.
I was full of him. So, so full. His scent and taste overwhelmed everything, lighting my senses on fire, burning away the hatred I tried to hold onto.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I remember he's a monster, even when he's choking me with sex?
Is this what sin tastes like? Bitterness beneath this thick, masculine shadow?
After the first few strokes, it wasn't so bad. I adjusted. The rhythm was one a girl could get lost in, allowing me to forget what was happening, that I was nothing but a slave in training.
His breathing turned ragged after what seemed like a few minutes. He panted, grunted, cursed, tensing his hand more fiercely against my head.