Luck of the Devil (Ravens Ruin MC 2)

The cold air on the tip of my wet cock is the equivalent of getting dropped in the middle of Lake Erie in the winter. A full-body shiver works its way over every inch of my skin, leaving goose bumps behind in its wake.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, eyes wide open, yet still blinded by the mask.

“Making you more comfortable.” My hips surge upward when her soft lips brush my thigh as her hands work the fabric of my boxers down my legs. This can’t happen, but God save me, I lift a little higher to aid the removal.

“I was fucking comfortable,” I somehow manage even when I feel the rush of her warm breath over my sack. “Molly, please don’t. It’s too much.”

“It’s a dream,” she whispers. “Do you want to wake up?”

Torn, I don’t know what to tell her. I know if I tell her to stop, she would, but fuck if just the thought of her lips on me doesn’t make my spine tingle and my balls draw up higher than they ever have before.

“We can just make out.” My cock jerks again at the suggestion.

She slides her body up mine, just the thin fabric of her dress brushing over my length on the way up. The friction is both heaven-sent and burns like the fires of Hell.

“Goddamn,” I groan as my hips rotate, looking for more pressure.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“You.” I’m breathless, completely at her mercy, which amazingly is somehow keeping the devil inside me quiet for the time being, but it’s the knowledge that he won’t stay at rest for long that worries me.

“You want me to take my panties off? Slide my pussy down your thick cock?”

Jesus, and I thought her calling me baby got me revved up.

“Please don’t.” I swallow thickly. “Couldn’t handle that.”

“You’re tied up,” she reminds me, and I don’t miss the increased pressure as she settles her body a little more on top of me. “You’re my captive today.”

“You know better than that,” I warn.

“Let’s test the theory.”

“Molly?”

She’s gone, lifting her body off of mine in the flash of a second.

I nearly come out of my skin when her tongue licks from my tight nuts to the sensitive head of my cock.

“Jesus, fuck.”

“Mmm,” she purrs again before swiping over the slit. “Your taste.”

Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come.

“I didn’t think—” She licks at me again. “Wow.”

“Please,” I groan, and right now I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m asking for. Torn between give me more, and stop right now, I just dig my teeth into my bottom lip until I taste blood and grip the wooden slats of the headboard until my knuckles ache.

“Do you want to wake up?” she whispers against my hot flesh.

“Never,” I moan.

“Is this dream different from your other ones?”

That she knows something I’ve never even voiced makes me love her even more. My sexual deviances don’t stop when I pass out. They continue, growing increasingly violent and devious with each REM cycle, something she somehow knows. The women in my dreams are faceless, but even in slumber, I know she’s the one beneath me begging to be released, pleading with me not to hurt her. A better man would be disgusted by that. I wish I were a better man.

“Yes,” I answer, unsure of how much time has passed since she asked her question.

“How?” she prods before her salacious tongue swipes at me again.

I swallow, throat so dry words are nearly impossible. “My dreams are violent.”

“Mmm,” she hums against me.

“They’re so fucking filthy, they should be illegal.” Hell, they are illegal if brought to life.

“Filthy sounds nice.”

I nearly knock her to the floor when she sucks one of my nuts into her mouth, but she’s resilient and must have predicted my reaction because her hands are clamped on my thighs, fingers digging deliciously into my skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I pant. “Please.”

“Please more?” Releasing me, she wastes no time sucking the other into her mouth. “Or please stop?”

Unable to respond, I concentrate on controlling my breathing.

“Or please this?”

With swiftness my jumbled brain can’t understand, her mouth is on me, sliding down my length. She doesn’t go far, her inexperience and my thickness preventing that from happening, but it’s enough. Fuck, is it enough. My hips jerk without warning, and the gagging sound as she’s choked by me is paradise in a fucking bottle. It’s my filthy fantasy come to life, my dreams made a reality.

TJ is into blood, reveling in the spill of someone’s life rushing over his hands, but the breathless sounds Molly is making with my cock buried in her throat is my devious need.

Unable to control her body’s reaction to my invasion, she continues to gag, even though I can hear the harsh pulls of breath from her nose. She’s uncomfortable, but not in any danger. That’s my reasoning. That’s the lie I tell myself so I can continue to bury myself in her as deep as her body will allow.