The Villain Duet by Bella J.

Chapter 18

Charlotte

Iwould burn in hell for wanting the devil. But I was too intoxicated to care—drunk on his earthy-sweet scent and high on the taste of him on my tongue.

Elijah hungrily stared at where he touched my bottom lip with his thumb. “Since you don’t respond well to questions, how about I just tell you what my intentions are, what I plan on doing to you? Then you can just nod that pretty little head of yours.” He stepped up close, his naked body a breath away from mine, the tip of his thick length brushing against my stomach. Every move he made dominated my senses, his presence filling every bone in my body that was primed to be taken and used. To be swept away by ecstasy.

He wrapped his palm around his swollen cock, and I looked down, his thumb wiping at a drop of pre-cum before pumping with slow, leisurely strokes. My thighs clenched, my sex throbbing with need, wanting him inside me.

“I’m going to take you, fuck you, make you come so hard it’s going to feel like your body is about to break. And once your first orgasm tears through you, I’m going to fuck you again, feel you from the inside while your slippery heat coats my cock until I cream that sweet cunt of yours, marking you, staking my claim. Now nod.”

I swallowed hard, my body so fucking needy from his words alone, I was sure just a single stroke of his finger would push me over the edge.

He stepped up, my hard nipples brushing against his dark dusting of chest hair, my oversensitive flesh hyperaware of even the slightest touch. “I said nod,” he ordered, his gaze boring into mine.

I nodded, refusing to deny myself the sordid pleasure I sought from this man.

“Get on the bed.”

I inched back, feeling the silk sheets against the back of my knees when he grabbed my wrist.

“Turn around, and get on the bed. On your hands and knees.” It wasn’t a request. It was a demand, an order.

“Why?” My voice was nothing but a whisper.

He let go of his cock and cupped my cheek, gentle, like a lover, and I could smell him, his sex, his dominance. His arousal.

“This is the only reason I won’t be killing the man who had you first.”

I whimpered as he leaned down, his lips brushing gently against mine.

“Because now there’s no need for me to be gentle. I can do what I want to.” He kissed me—no tongue, no open mouth, just a tender kiss. “And right now, I want to fuck you, my sweet, beautiful cellist. Now, be a good girl and turn around. Get on your hands and knees.”

There was a fleeting moment of weakness that passed through me, a moment of hesitation when I doubted myself.

Am I good enough for him?

Am I beautiful enough for him?

Will I be enough for a man like Elijah?

Powerful. Dominant. The kind of man who would have women flocking his way. Yet here he was, a sheen of sweat covering his chest, his eyes hooded and dick hard…for me. A poor girl who had nothing but a broken cello.

“I said get on the bed.” He grabbed my shoulders, spun me around, and forced me onto the bed with cruel, cold hands.

“Elijah—”

“You agreed, Charlotte. I told you, there’s no going back now.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my throat, yet my body yearning for him to do whatever it was he wanted. For him to make my body his playground. I had never been so at war with myself—how my mind fought my body, wanting to deny that which it desired most.

The silks sheets were soft against my palms and knees as I steadied myself, staring straight in front of me at the blue velvet headboard.

“Jesus, Charlotte. If only you could see yourself through my eyes right now. You’re glistening.”

The thought of him staring at me from behind ignited more flames that raged through my core. I had never been so exposed, and I could feel my arousal coat my thighs.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, and I groaned when he dragged a single finger through my slit—slowly, gently, yet the shockwaves it caused were powerful enough to make me arch my back, pushing out my hips, wanting more.

“Look at that.” Again, he slipped a finger through my wetness. “You’re a greedy little cellist, aren’t you?”

The mattress dipped as he got on behind me, dragging the head of his cock down my thigh, earning a desperate moan from my lips.

“Does it ache? Wanting a release so badly?” He placed a kiss on the soft skin of my ass. “Is your pussy throbbing, clenching with a need to be filled and stretched? Used?”

Jesus. God.

“Elijah. Please.” My eyes rolled closed, and I buried my face in the silk sheets, pushing my hips up and out in search of him, of anything that could give me the friction and touch I needed for a release.

“Please what? What is it you need, Charlotte?”

“You. I need you.” I was past the point of pretending, of fighting. “I need you inside me.” I had never been this aroused with lust that threatened to drive me mad.

“I’ll be inside you soon enough.” His voice was a low rumble, like thunder, lightning, a threatening storm that would capsize me, drown me, ruin me. “But first, I want to taste you.” His palms flattened on my ass as he stretched me open, cold air brushing against my sensitive folds before his tongue lapped against my slit, his hands spreading my pussy wider, his tongue dragging all the way from my entrance to my clit, my body trembling so hard I could no longer hold myself up with my arms, surrendering.

His tongue felt exquisite against my cunt, licking, lapping, dipping inside me. Euphoria slithered up my spine as he enclosed my clit with his lips, sucking hard, only to replace it with a few gentle flicks of his tongue, then sucking again. It was a rhythm, a beat, the way he played my pussy like a filthy, erotic melody.

It wasn’t a lie when I said I had been with a man before, but it wasn’t anything like this. God, this was a lethal mix of desire and ecstasy, and I was sure insanity would claim me if he didn’t let me tip over the edge.

“Elijah…Jesus, please.” My body writhed, my hips pumping back and forth, wanting to fuck his mouth, needing more as I felt the pleasure start at my toes, flowing through my body, up my spine. I was lost in the massacre of wills and inhibitions while my body hummed with the wicked desire my stalker stirred to life—as if the depravity of it all was the vice that made it possible for me to surrender willfully.

“Do you want to come?” He slipped a finger inside me, his tongue licking around it, leaving no part of my sex un-kissed and un-licked.

“Yes. Please. I have to come.”

“How?” I shuddered when he lightly blew against my wet sex, his breath warm as it caressed my skin. “How do you want to come? Like this, with my mouth, my finger? Or do you want to come with my cock inside you?”

“I just…” I clawed at the silk sheets, convinced my body was about to snap in half. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Pick, Charlotte.” As if he wanted to make it more difficult for me, more torturous, he straightened behind me, slowly stroking the head of his cock through my pussy, coating himself with my arousal, nudging at my entrance. “Should I fuck you now? Or keep licking your cunt?” His lips were down there again, sucking my pussy as if he was starved for my taste.

“Anything, Elijah. Just…do whatever you want.” I reared back, rocking my hips, forcing my sex harder against his mouth.

He groaned, and it sent a wave of vibrations against my clit, forcing a whimper from my lips. A cry. A moan of pure torture.

His mouth was gone, and my legs pulled tight when I felt his cock at my entrance again. “I think this body of yours deserves to come with me inside you. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, please. Please. God.” I panted, whimpered, my nails clawing into my palms, my toes and knees pulled taut. My hips moved on their own accord, pushing back just as he thrust forward, impaling me with his thick length, causing me to cry out, tears prickling the corners of my eyes.

He grunted, slamming into me completely, filling me to the brim, stretching me to a point where it hurt. But it felt so fucking good, his cock so incredibly hard inside me, forcing a pleasurable pain that rolled in waves to every corner of my body.

“Fuck,” he groaned behind me. “Your cunt is so tight. Warm. Jesus.” He placed his palm on the small of my back, steadying himself as he reared back only to delve back into me—harder this time.

My cheek was firmly planted on the sheet, my lips parted as he drove his cock in and out of me with relentless thrusts.

“Ask me if you can come,” he demanded, but my mind was lost in the haze of lust and primal instincts. I was too busy getting high on the feel of him inside me, but he pulled out abruptly, his palm slapping my ass hard. I gasped as the searing pain spread along my flesh.

“I said ask me if you can come, or I swear to fucking God I will pump my seed on your back and leave you here panting like a little slut, desperate for cock.”

“Okay!” I cried out, unable to take the torture anymore. I no longer felt the sting of his palm against my ass; all I felt was the ache that throbbed, consumed, possessed. “Please. Please let me come.”

Like a wild fucking animal, he growled and plunged into me so fucking hard I had to clamp down with my hands to stop myself from falling forward.

We were both lost. Willingly ravished. And I screamed as my climax tore through me, leaving nothing but shattered fragments of pleasure in its wake.

My knees trembled, my back arched, my goddamn mind scattered. It was everywhere—in my skin, my bones, my head—everywhere, the pleasure he fucked into me. And there was nothing else I could do but lie there and take it, letting him take possession of my mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck!” he roared, and then I felt it, the way his cock jerked, spilling his cum inside me—the ultimate act of possession. And I loved it. I wanted it. I relished the thought of his seed spilling into me. Filling me. Tainting me as his.

That was the moment I realized we were both thoroughly and utterly fucked. There was no going back from this. I was claimed and ruined by the man who dragged me into this hell with him. And there was no escape. No way out. But even if there were…I knew I wouldn’t want to.