Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

“If you want to find out, agree to my condition.”

His head moves in a subtle nod, but that’s all I need as I take his cock in my hand and lick the sides.

My eyes meet his hooded ones while I dart my tongue out and make a show of it.

I expected that I would need to shut myself down for this, that I would need a pep talk, but it’s more natural than I thought possible.

“That’s it.” His fingers thread in my hair. “Suck my cock like it’s your favorite lollipop.”

My core tightens and I slide the head inside my mouth, tasting the precum. Then I suck on it hard, just like a lollipop. Actually, I do it harder and it’s nothing like the candy. It’s more primal and definitely bigger.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he grunts, grabbing a fistful of my hair. He starts to thrust his hips, trying to get control, to hit the back of my throat.

But I fight for that control. I pull more of him inside and end up scraping him with my teeth.

“No fucking teeth, Nicole,” he manages to get out, but he still sounds like he’s in a pleasure haven.

I loosen my jaw to fit as much as I can of his huge cock.

The grunt that escapes his lips makes me more frantic in my movements, in my attempts to control the pace.

But then something happens. The tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, and although my gag reflex kicks in, so does something else.

Pleasure.

It’s pooling between my thighs with a need for one single bit of friction to detonate.

One single touch.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth,” he informs me and doesn’t give me a chance to react as he uses my hair to keep me in place while he thrusts in and out.

He uses my tongue and lips for his own friction, groaning with each jerk of his hips.

My stomach revolts and the sensation is weird with the pleasure gathered in my knickers. It’s so weird that I don’t even attempt to stop it. My hands are on his muscular thighs, but I don’t dig my nails in his skin or push him away.

I’m too struck by the feral look on his face, the raw power in it as he uses my mouth like it’s the best he’s ever had.

The thought of him doing this to other girls makes me want to throw up. So I push that idea away as fast as it appears, choosing to focus on him.

Only him.

I feel that he’s close by the way his body tightens and how his thrusts turn jerky.

And then he empties himself down my throat. “Swallow. Every last fucking drop.”

I try to, but there’s so much cum that it leaks down each side of my chin. Daniel wipes the droplets with his index and middle finger and lazily smears it all over my lips.

They’re bruised and puffy, but they fall open when he jams those two fingers inside my mouth and rubs them against my tongue.

Once.

Twice.

“That’s your cue to suck, Peaches.”

I do, curling my tongue around his lean fingers, trying to ignore the way my heart grows heavy at the use of my old nickname. A nickname that’s stopped appearing, even in my dreams.

Why couldn’t it just remain physical? Why did he have to make me feel so nostalgic by bringing up emotions?

He pulls out his fingers with pop, and a trail of my drool mixed with his cum hangs between his hand and my mouth.

“How did I do?” I ask in a breathless tone, even though I try to hold on to my nonexistent cool.

“You get your wish.” He slides the two fingers that were in my mouth between his lips and sucks them as if they’re his favorite meal. And that says something, considering he doesn’t even like food.

I’m struck by the view, by how he licks me off him, not bothering to break eye contact.

In fact, he seems to be making it on purpose so I’ll see what he can do with those fingers.

“Now, I want a chance to get my own wish.”

One moment I’m on my knees, the next I’m on my back and Daniel is pulling my feet apart.

For a minute, I’m disoriented as to what’s happening, but then red-hot panic crashes my windpipe.

I gasp, animal-like sounds escaping my throat before I start thrashing, hard, like a mental institute patient without tranquilizers.

My legs kick in the air and I bite skin. I don’t know whose skin it is, but I do it, a guttural sound escaping with it. I also scratch somewhere, anywhere.

If I do it, he won’t get to me, if I do…

“Nicole, stop!”

My wrists hit the ground with a thud and reality starts creeping into my vision.

Daniel’s face greets me. He’s hovering over me, his knees on either side of my stomach and his hands holding my wrists hostage on the tiled floor.

Salt explodes on my tongue and I realize it’s tears. I’m crying and being the general mess I’ve been trying to hide from everyone, especially him.

The man who might as well have made me this way.

Daniel’s brows are drawn together as he tracks my every movement like a hunter.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The authoritativeness in his tone would’ve had an effect on me on any other day but today.

I lick the sweat and tears off my upper lip. “L-let me go.”

“Not until you tell me why in the bloody hell you acted as if you were possessed by Satan himself.”

“Let me go, Daniel…please…just let me go.”