That Sik Luv

Briony

A slow grin forms, and he runs his thumb across my cheekbone before pulling his hand back and slapping the side of my face. It’s not hard, but hard enough to send my face to the side and leave a light sting.

“Good girl.”

I practically whimper at his praise before he guides his cock into my mouth. He allows me to move my neck while he stands still, wetting him by licking the pierced tip, then mouthing the entire, engorged length. I swallow as much of him as I can, holding him at the back of my throat until I need to pull off to breathe.

“Fuck, just like that,” he says, gripping the hair at my crown, forcing himself deep again.

He holds the leash with an arm behind him, pulling it as he picks up the pace until I’m literally being pulled forward to swallow his cock and he’s effectively fucking my throat.

“Swallow your cock, slut,” he demands. I moan around him, the words so vile, demeaning, and entirely too attractive for the submissive doll I’ve become. “Take your punishment.”

After bringing himself to the edge, almost losing at his own game, he pulls out of my mouth, gazing down at the teary, wet mess beneath him with fire in his eyes. He slaps his cock against my cheek before pushing it back between my lips. He repeats this process, pulling out, slapping me, then throat fucking me again. Toying with himself. Toying with me.

“Aero,” I whine, craving my own release as he rubs the piercing across my lips, a drop of cum leaking onto my tongue. “Please.”

“Please what?” he asks, cocking a brow.

“Give me what I need,” I cry.

His infamous smirk pulls at his lips before he leans down closer to me. His arm wraps back around behind me, his fingers slipping beneath my shorts until he brushes against my arousal, slipping a finger deep inside. “Oh yeah, you’re ready,” he says, eyes darkening with his own hunger. “God, you’re so amazing, Bri. My dirty little doll. Let’s make you filthy, yeah?”

In a quick motion, he releases the leash, pushing me back against the bed, my wrists burning from the friction of the rope. He grabs my ankle and flips me onto my stomach. The cock gag fills my mouth again as he straps it back on, tighter than before. Ripping the shorts down my legs, he wastes no time in pulling me to my knees, smashing my exposed breasts into the mattress before me, and spreading my legs before him.

He runs the crown of his dick along the sopping mess between my legs, cursing at the sensation. Without warning, he pushes into me from behind, driving deep. I try to scream around the gag, my pussy spasming around his thickness as he stills, attempting to calm himself for me.

My cries are silenced by the silicone cock down my throat, while he slips out, then back in deep at a slow and torturous rate.

“They took away your voice, but remember I’m the one to make you scream.” he whispers as his hands explore.

Fingers mold to my skin, touching every available surface before him as his own. Running down my spine, up the backs of my thighs, over the curves of my hips. Gripping into the flesh near my hips, he pulls me back into him, my wetness spreading across his lower abdomen. His thrusts pick up again and my body ignites with explosive electricity at each powerful collision.

It doesn’t take long. The inability to talk as I swallow one cock while being filled with another has me spiraling into a dirty pool of desire. I feel naughty and used in the way that I crave. I want to take the disadvantages of being seen only as an object and a woman of no worth and own it as my own under the direction of Aero. Turning our pain into pleasure.

I tighten myself, my muscles seizing up as I close in on my release. He must sense it because he spits down onto my ass, his saliva dripping down the crack, rubbing my entrance before gently popping his thumb inside.

A low groan rumbles through my chest as my eyes roll back into my head. It’s too much. It’s overwhelming. I’m on sensory overload, and the fire within the pit of my belly is burning wild, requiring an escape with the heat of my arousal.

The sexiest moan leaves his throat, and the sound, plus the fact that he’s got every hole of mine filled the way he intended, using me as his own dirty doll, has me cresting the wave of the most intense orgasm.

“Now,” he demands, sounding short of breath. “Cum—ah, fuck—cum on me, filthy girl.”

We lose ourselves in each other, coming undone at the same time. My body explodes as fire travels along my spine and I feel his hips flex hard against mine, his body convulsing behind me as my face grinds into the mattress beneath us.

We explore and test our limits, needing fear and pain to drive the pleasure, and we fall hard into our heaven, gasping together until we find ourselves back on this earth.

Lying in his bed together after cleaning up, my cheeks flush as I go over the last few hours in my head again.

The way he cares for me after sex is nothing short of beautiful, going entirely against the nature of his character. He cleaned me in the bathtub as I sat between his legs, soft kisses littering my neck and ears as gentle hands massaged my tender muscles, discussing my techniques and what could make me a more skilled assassin. He cooked for me, feeding me yet another protein-filled meal. He tells me to worship my body as the temple it is, keeping me strong and focusing on foods that enrich rather than destroy.

Tucking me into the bed alongside him, he cares for me, ensuring I’m warm and comfortable. He gives me aspirin with a glass of ice water before bed, knowing the discomfort that comes from training all day, followed up by a round of aggressive lovemaking.

He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever encountered. He expresses himself through pain. Pulling hair and yelling obscenities is his own personal cocktail of love. He’s just never learned how to embrace the proper form of love. Chaos is his only emotion, and knowing that, I feel I’m the only one who can understand him.

He strokes the damp hair off my face, playing with the strands as he studies me yet again, the look in his eyes one of love and admiration, even if he doesn’t know what that means.

I know the look because I’m emitting it right back to him. Aero has said that I am his existence. That he can’t breathe without me. But I can’t live without him. I would be nothing without him. My heart has caved for the man that is without one. I love how protective he is. How he’s literally spent his life waiting for me, silently watching me from afar, waiting until the time came when they’d want to eliminate his flower that hadn’t yet bloomed.

“Aero,” I whisper, blinking my tired eyes nervously.

“What is it?” he asks, concerned already.

He brings my wrist to his mouth, eyeing the small cuts from the roped restraints. My heart rate surges as I contemplate voicing the things I’m feeling. His tongue darts out of his mouth as he licks the cuts before kissing them gently. Healing his harm. My heart swells further.

“You must know,” I begin shyly, looking up at him. “I think I’m in—I mean, I know I’m in lo—“

“Don’t,” he interrupts sternly, sitting up onto his elbow abruptly. “Don’t you ever say that to me.”

My eyebrows lower and my heart pinches in my chest.

“Don’t tell me you love me because I’ll never say it back to you,” he says in a cold, lifeless tone. One void of the very emotion I’m emitting.

My bottom lip trembles and his eyes are drawn to it. His hand reaches out and his thumb gently trails along it. His lips part, but for a moment, nothing comes out. It’s as if he’s heard the echoes of the complete shatter happening within the confines of my chest.

“What we have together isn’t definable by a word created by another man. No combination of letters or formulated language can encompass the magnitude of our tragedies. Our pain. Our euphoria.” His eyes find mine, searching deep through me as his fingers softly stroke my hair behind my ear. “Love is beneath us,” he states confidently.

I swallow, the tears spilling over my lashes at probably the most perfect answer from a man who loves in his own undefinable way. Love is beneath us.

Lifting my hand, I carefully stroke my fingertips over the deep-seated scar that tears through his devastatingly handsome face. He’s still working on letting me touch him. Hitting him, cutting him, knocking my skull into his…that’s affection he can bear. But the gentle touch of a caring caress is still owned by the demons we seek to avenge.

“I do have a question for you, though,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s been weighing on me all afternoon.”

I drop my hand, his face immediately softening as he sucks in a breath, letting me know he was holding it the entire time. It kills me he has to work that hard to allow my hands on him. He’s trying, and I hate it. I don’t want him to have to try to be comfortable with my embrace. If he’d rather I slap him, then I’d gladly do it. I don’t want to change him, I just want to love him, however he’ll allow.

“What’s the question?”

His brows lower, and his eyes narrow, contemplating. “Who was it you pictured when you hesitated at the last strike during today’s training?”

I stall for a moment, peering down before gaining the courage to find his gaze again. “Saint.”

He stares at me for a moment, wearing his anger proudly.

“I don’t know how many more times you need me to explain it to you. He was the one who counted the books wrong for class, Briony. He knew you’d need to visit that closet where his friend was waiting to end you. Watch his face, remember? They set you up.” He scratches the top of his hair, visibly frustrated as his nostrils flare at the memory. “The brick. Did he ever tell you what was on that brick I threw through the windshield?”

I shake my head, remembering how Saint looked at it. He was terrified, as if he’d read something horrifying.

“He told me nothing was on it. That it was just some kids messing around…”

“Exactly. It was all a fucking lie,” he declares. “Saint was never on your side.”

It still haunts me; the way I let him in. Saint is the most manipulative liar there is. While the others eagerly showcased their hatred, Saint brought me closer. He kept me under a watchful eye by faking his interest in me. We were never meant to form an alliance. He just wanted a chance to prove himself as a loyal member of the despicable society that keeps their own on top.

“It’s not that,” I reply, as Aero combs through my hair with his fingers again, listening intently. “I know now that he wasn’t the person I thought he was. But…”

I don’t know how to say what I’m thinking without showing the lack of remorse I feel. Does it make me a monster? No. Just a woman seeking the worst kind of revenge.

“What is it, Briony?” Aero asks directly, needing me to continue.

“I feel like death isn’t something he deserves.”

His face hardens as I continue.

“I want him to suffer. To burn. From the inside out.”

Aero listens intently, his face shifting into that one that makes me weak and makes my little heart flutter like a moth to the dying light. The look of admiration. The look of a proud protector on his knees before his throned queen addressing her kingdom. He’s watching my growth. My evolution of strength before him. The bud has opened and I’m finally ready to bloom.

“I want to ruin him as he lives.”

He leans forward, his tongue slipping through his mouth, licking the words from my lips.

“Tell me more,” he hums, before licking across my lips again.

“I want to take away the only thing that would dismantle the institution, ruining him with the same stain they’ve smeared upon us.”

Aero’s head nuzzles into my neck, where I feel his warm, wet tongue trail up my throat, licking and urging for more.

“I want to take his virginity.”

He pauses against my neck, his mouth open and his tongue stilling against my flesh. Raising his head, he looks down at me with an unreadable expression. I see the war behind his eyes as he imagines the possibility, with a push and a pull of the heart he pretends to lack.

Revenge. Possession. Vengeance. Claim.

“Killing him is too easy an art,” I declare, holding my chin up.

Aero wants to own me, but can’t if he yearns for true retribution. Does he trust me enough to allow the destruction of another man’s future through the use of my body? Can he understand it will be a meaningless transaction to me, but one only I can accomplish? I have leverage with Saint. I’ve seen how I can get him to react to me. In that kitchen, during our kiss, he wanted more. Needed it like the drug he’s also been denied. Can I be the one to push him over the edge?

Setting up and exposing the man in line to become bishop would be the ultimate ruin for the entirety of the church, the congregation, and the community, and Aero knows this. This institution would come crumbling down if one of its own were exposed beneath the true light.

His jaw flexes, and his teeth grind as he fists a handful of my hair. I feel the pain in his grip; the demons whispering in his ear. Letting out a deep sigh through his nose, he relaxes his hold, his eyes finding mine as he declares confidently, “Whatever revenge you desire. It will be yours.”