God of Wrath (Legacy of Gods #3) by Rina Kent

On his assertive touch.

He’s a man who takes what he wants and there’s something arousing about that.

Just when I think the torment will never end, two of his fingers thrust inside me. At the same time. All the way to the knuckles.

I shriek, the sound permeating our silent surroundings.

Despite being soaking wet and needy for more, I wasn’t ready for this. My core clenches around his fingers as he drives them in and out of my heat in a long, controlled rhythm.

Each thrust picks up in speed methodically, too in tune with my body’s reaction until they’re ruthless and merciless.

My toes curl and a whole-body shudder grips me. This is so different from the tentative, almost shy way I touch myself.

There’s nothing shy about his touch.

It’s a command, a force that can’t be stopped or derailed.

A disaster of my own making.

He’s here to take, and take, and take some more.

And I can only give.

My hips slam against the ground with how much they buck.

He drives in a third finger. Pleasure mixes with pain as I’m stretched to my full capacity.

It’s impossible to breathe properly, but I force myself to relax, to take it, even if he’s ripping me from the inside out.

His rhythm grows in intensity and I gasp with each in and out, the sound animalistic in nature.

Usually, I hide my face in the pillow or any surface to muffle the sounds of pleasure.

Now, I only have the dirt.

I don’t get to focus on that when a sharp flood rushes through me.

It’s a flicker of pleasure at first, but then it mounts, inflates, and intensifies until tremors cover my skin fully.

I’ve never experienced this type of pleasure before.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I’d be on the edge of blacking out due to an orgasm.

Hell, I didn’t think orgasms could feel this way.

The ones I give myself are always soft, pleasurable, and make me sigh in content once I’m done.

This one?

All I can do is scream at the collision. In my attempts to mute some of the carnal pleasure, I nearly eat the dirt.

A low, gruff sound comes from the devil looming over me, watching, sporting a dark halo that I’ve never seen on Lan before.

But then again, I’ve never been introduced to this side of him before.

“So this is how good girls like you get off. Does being used in the middle of the night like a worthless fuckable hole turn you on, Lisichka?”

I choke on my inhale and everything pauses.

The air. My heart. My brain.

But not him. He definitely doesn’t pause.

He, as in, the guy who certainly didn’t sound like Landon.

At all.

Unless Lan picked up an American accent, a different intonation, and has decided to mess with me.

The worst part is that he sounds familiar.

Way too familiar.

“L-Lan?” I whisper in a barely audible voice.

“Try again.” His voice has roughened, sounding absolutely terrifying.

Oh, God.

Oh, no.

Please, no.

The only reason I went against my character, my moral code of conduct, and did this is because I thought it would be with Landon.

So why isn’t it…? I clearly picked him through the app.

No one else could match his physical traits.

The beast—literally and figuratively—curls his fingers inside me, stroking a part of me no one has touched before. “You look plain and innocent, but deep down, you’re nothing but a dirty little slut. You’re ready to do anything to get rid of this barrier, no? You asked for it last night, begged for it, even.”

My body must be going through a shock, because the moment realization rushes back to me, it’s like someone has kicked me in the stomach and crushed my rib cage.

He’s Orange Mask.

“L-let me go! S-stop it!”

An unruly chuckle stabs through my ear. “You think I give a fuck about whatever little game you had with Landon?”

I go still, my heart nearly spilling on the ground.

I’m in that position where it’s life-threatening again, where my reckless decisions and impulsive actions might lead to my demise.

He can hurt me.

No, he will hurt me.

“I might consider letting you go if you answer the question you ran away from last night, Cecily.” He pounds his fingers inside me, rekindling the power he holds over my arousal.

My nails sink in the dirt as bursts of the earlier pleasure pulse and throb, tighten and clench.

My body still hasn’t gotten the memo that we’re in survival mode right now.

“Why were you at the initiation?” There’s a raspy, blunt quality to his voice, an authoritativeness that bleeds out with every word.

I purse my lips.

“I could and I would fuck your virgin cunt all night long. Then, when I’m bored, I’d stuff my thick cock into your ass and use your blood as lube. I suggest you answer the question before I get to that point.”

My muscles lock as I get a glimpse of his face. It’s only a fraction of it, but it’s enough for recognition to kick in.

It is Jeremy.

I suspected that he was Orange Mask at the initiation, then ignored it, decimated that thought, and chose to delude my mind.

However, there’s no escaping the facts now.

Not only is it his face, but the tone gives him away, too. It’s that cold, emotionless, and absolutely loathsome voice.