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

But we’re not done talking.

“You can always start your own social media and stalk me,” I suggest. “That way you’ll know everyone I’m interacting with.”

“Not in this lifetime.” His thumb strokes my chin, back and forth, with heightening intensity.

“Worth a try.” I pull the sleeve of my hoodie over my hand and wipe at the dry blood. “Why do you fight?”

“I have too much excess energy that I can only purge through inflicting violence and pain.”

A craving.

An impulse.

Part of who he is.

But why is he the way he is?

Instead of asking that, I go for, “What happens if you don’t purge it?”

“Nothing good comes from pent-up pressure.” His lips thin in a line. “If you’re considering options to change who I am, save it.”

“I don’t want to change you.” I want to understand you.

The last words get stuck in my throat before I can relay them and I stroke my finger over the cut on his lip. “Does it hurt?”

He makes an affirmative noise, his eyes getting lost in mine as his thumb continues the maddening back and forth on my chin.

Back and forth.

“Really?” I start to pull my hand away.

Creighton grabs it and places it back on his face. “You can continue.”

I grin. “Are you sure it hurts or do you just want me to touch you?”

“The second.”

“Wow. You’ve come a long way from when you refused to let me touch you.”

“I don’t like giving up control,” he admits in a low voice that gets carried by the wind.

“It’s in good hands with me.”

“Doubt it.”

“Why?”

“You’re a brat.”

“I can be good, too.” An idea springs to mind and I perk up. “What if I prove it?”

“Prove what?”

“That you can give up control for me and I’ll treat it well.”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“Trust me.” I drop to my knees between his legs.

The harsh surface of the rock hurts my skin, but I don’t pay attention to that and, instead, focus on my mission.

In the semi-darkness, Creighton shares the aura of a warlord, half naked, bloody, and fresh out of a battle.

Not to mention that we’re in a public place where anyone can walk by. Yes, we’re hidden from the main street, but someone could wander back here.

The old Annika would be freaked out, but I couldn’t care less.

Not when Creighton is here.

My fingers latch onto the elastic of his shorts, a bit shaky, but not to the point of being a fumbling mess.

At first, he lets me pull at the material, but then his hard voice vibrates in the air. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Bringing you pleasure.” It takes me a few moments to free his cock.

I pause as my small hand barely contains his girth.

What the…

I’ve never seen a cock in real life, aside from some unsolicited dick pics. Or some porn—don’t judge, I was curious.

But I knew those porn stars’ dicks didn’t reflect reality.

However, Creighton is totally porn-star level. Both in girth and length. Now, I’m having second thoughts about my earlier plans.

His index and middle finger slip beneath my jaw, lifting it, trapping me in the darkness of his eyes. “You going to wrap these lips around my cock and let me choke your pretty throat with my cum, little purple?”

Holy shit.

My heart jacks up in speed. He’s supposed to be silent, so how come he has the best dirty talk?

“Have you deep-throated another cock before, Annika? Have you let another prick fuck your mouth and turn your lips all swollen?”

My thighs clench together.

Seriously, he needs to stop talking like this. My actions are supposed to be about him, but I’m the one who’s getting shamelessly wet.

“Answer the question.”

“No, it’s…my first.” Like it’s his first.

I know because once, we played ‘never have I ever’ with everyone else, and he admitted to never having his dick sucked. A fact that made Remi throw a dramatic fit.

Ever since then, I think I’ve secretly fantasized about being the first girl to give him a blowjob.

Especially now that I realize he’s probably never allowed himself to receive oral because it takes away his control.

But he’s not stopping me now.

If anything, he’s watching me with fiery eyes and a lust-filled expression.

The fingers that were beneath my jaw push against my lips. “Open.”

I do, and he glides his middle and ring fingers all the way inside. He pushes them against my tongue, smears them with my saliva over and over.

I start to gag, spluttering around them.

“Breathe. If you can’t handle my fingers, how will you take my cock?”

I use his eyes as an anchor as I inhale through my nose. Slowly, the pressure eases and I lick his fingers. A low humming sound falls from his lips as he wraps his other hand around mine that’s on his cock.

Then he uses my grip to slide it up and down his length in a twisting motion, making me jerk him off. “Don’t just lick. Be a good girl, and use your tongue between my fingers.”