God of Pain (Legacy of Gods #2) by Rina Kent

A trait that’s not usual for him. Yes, he can be caring, but only after sex, not during.

He told me so himself once, that he knows how to take, and doesn’t know how to give, which is why he’s never considered relationships.

No clue if it’s that knowledge, the fact that he’s giving me this type of care so naturally or his appeasing touch, but I find myself relaxing, and my muscles loosen, slowly adjusting. I choose to focus on just how full he makes me.

So very full.

“Such a good girl,” Creighton’s deep voice might as well be touching me too. Or maybe it’s that word, because I’m dripping between my thighs.

He holds my nape with the hand that was stroking my side and lowers the other to tease my clit.

The arousal that I thought had disappeared earlier returns with wrecking force.

When he starts rocking his hips, I fall into the slap of his groin against my ass, into the sounds of grunting, moaning, groaning. Slapping and slapping and slapping.

Sweat coats my skin and I melt into his touch, into his presence.

“That’s it.” His rhythm is slow, pleasurable. “You’re taking my cock so well. You feel so good. So tight. So fucking mine.”

A moan rips out of my throat and all the tension from earlier disappears. Raw, gritty pleasure pools between my thighs and I rock my hips, demanding more.

“You want me to fuck you harder? Want me to take your ass and ram into your virgin hole until you’re unable to sit for days?” he asks, voice oozing with dark lust as his thrusts deepen. “Want me to tear into you and claim you as mine? Because that’s what you’ll always be, Annika.” Thrust. “You can shoot me and run. You can push me and leave.” Thrust. “But you are my girl, and you’ll remain my girl despite your fucking parents.” Thrust. “I’m the only home you’ll ever have. My bed is the only bed you’ll ever sleep in, so the next time I say you’re my home, you say I’m yours, too.”

I gasp and whimper and moan, unable to take in the load of emotions he’s arousing.

Lust, despair, and sadness.

Complete utter sadness that stabs my bones, but I choose to fall into lust instead.

I choose to fall into the feeling of having him completely owning me.

Body, heart, and soul.

Pleasure shoots inside me in waves, starting where we’re joined, where he’s torturing my clit, and spreads through my whole body. The harsh slide of my hard nipples against the leather heightens it to the point of eruption.

The fact that his hold on my nape prevents me from fighting this, even if I wanted to, adds a sense of animalistic pleasure.

“Tell me you’ll stay.” He grunts from behind me as the slaps of flesh against flesh echo in the air.

Every hit on the welts on my ass causes me to drip into his hand.

Every inhale is filled with the smell of him, me, and sex.

Of us.

Still, I shake my head slowly, as much as his hand allows, and Creighton slaps my clit.

The hit is so sudden that I come in a long flood of…holy shit.

My eyes widen. Please don’t tell me I peed myself.

Creighton becomes feral at the wetness that pours out of me and thrusts in with animalistic force.

I close my eyes and chase my orgasm, rocking my hips and adjusting to his rhythm.

He comes deep inside me with a growling, “Mine.”

He doesn’t seem done, though. After he pulls out, he coat my ass and thighs with his cum, as if he’s marking me for the whole world to see.

When he finally releases my nape, I don’t turn around and, instead, remain in the same position. In fact, I wish the world would open up and swallow me.

“Annika?”

I bury my face in the leather, my voice coming out muffled. “Leave me alone.”

“Look at me.”

I shake my head in the sofa, trying to ignore the process of my heart shriveling and dying.

“I won’t repeat myself another time. Look at me.”

I slowly do, shame and tears clinging to my eyes. “Can’t you just leave me alone to deal with the fact that I peed myself?”

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“Just now when you… Ugh…give me a moment.” A slow smile lifts his lips, and he looks so gorgeous that I want to slap him. “What are you smiling at?”

“You didn’t pee, you squirted, and it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

My cheeks heat. “Oh.”

Hearing him call me the hottest thing he’s ever seen makes me want to do it all over again. But maybe it only happens with strong orgasms.

A low gasp rips out of me when he lifts me in his arms. “Now, let’s have a shower so I can fuck you again.”

“But I’m so sore.”

“Not in the cunt.”

I release a long breath as his large strides eat up the whole distance to the stairs. Despite the peaceful moment, something still nags at me.

“I meant it, Creighton. I’m not staying.”

His jaw clenches, but he soon schools his features. “I’ll convince you otherwise.”

My body falls slack against his. “That’s what I thought I could do, too, ever since we came here. I thought I could convince you to let bygones be bygones, but that’s not possible, is it? Aren’t we both just fooling ourselves at this point?”