Emperor of Rage: Chapter 15

I moan a muffled cry as my thighs clamp around his hand. Fireworks explode in my vision as the orgasm crashes through my core. My world is turned upside-down as my head hangs off the side of the bed, and I shiver when Mal’s fingers tighten around my neck.

He groans, shoving his cock into the back of my throat as I come on his fingers. I feel his huge dick pulse and throb in my mouth as his release follows my own, his warm, sticky cum flooding my tongue. I almost choke, but I keep my lips sealed tight around him, my throat bobbing up and down in his grip as I swallow over and over.

He tastes…sweet. And salty. So him.

His fingers lazily roll over my clit, sending more shudders and tremors flickering through my body like wildfire. I whine in pleasure, twisting and writhing as my tongue swirls around his swollen head.

Mal slips his cock from my mouth, running the head over my lips and then smearing it across my cheek.

It should be utterly demeaning, vile and insulting. Except for the small matter of me being fucked in the head and loving it.

This is the second time Mal’s just somehow…appeared in my room. The second time he’s told me to “swallow his cock like a good little cumslut”. Just like the last time, he might as well be inside my twisted little head.

Because he knows the dark, deviant, fucked-up fantasies that I keep hidden behind that locked door inside me.

To an alarming degree.

For instance, just yesterday, memories of the first time he came over were running a rampage through my head, turning me into a puddle. So obviously, I pulled up some of the …rougher videos I’ve bookmarked and watched them, fingering myself and biting back a moan as I watched a dominant guy fuck a pretty brunette’s mouth with his thick cock as she hung her head off the side of the bed.

And now here we are, positioned just like that. It’s as if he’s reading my thoughts. Like he knows every button to push with me.

Mal rubs the still-hard head of his cock over my mouth again, tapping it against my lips before stepping back. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing the confused desire that’s been twisting inside me since the moment he first laid his hands on me.

I still don’t get how he manages to slip past Kir’s guards. It’s like the man can just disappear into the shadows and reappear when it suits him. Right now, though, I’m not sure if I’m more terrified of the implications of that or the way my body reacts every time he touches me.

I roll over and swing my legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. I turn to reach for my hoodie.

“What are you doing?”

The dark, sultry tone of his voice makes me stop. When I turn back to him, my breath catches.

So far, even though he’s come down my throat twice now, I’ve never seen Mal naked. Both times, he’s kept his pants and shirt on and just pulled out his dick.

But now, when I turn to him, I find myself faced with the sight of his bare torso in the shadowy light, his muscles grooved and chiseled as if carved from stone.

Holy shit.

My eyes trace over the dark, intricate irezumi style Yakuza ink mixed with other, more traditional western tattoos all over his skin. I knew Mal was inked, but shit.

He’s covered.

His lips curl at the wide-eyed look I’m sure he sees on my face.

“I…” I swallow. “I was just getting dressed.”

“I fail to see the point,” he growls. He bends to pull off his jeans, tossing them aside before he stalks toward me. “Seeing as I’m about to bury my cock in your messy little cunt.”

Holy fuck.

It’s another thing I suppose I knew was coming. At some point, this unholy arrangement between us would entail fucking him. Or more like him fucking me.

There’s just the tiny, insignificant, barely-even-an-issue fact that…well…

I’ve never done this before. And suddenly, I find myself scrambling back across the bed, my breath caught in my throat as Mal prowls toward me like a jungle cat ready to devour me whole.

I’ve thought of my “first time” over the years. I’ve imagined what that would entail, and how I’d ever even get to the point where I’d want to sleep with someone. Would it be a boyfriend? Or would I just rip the Band-Aid off, download Tinder, and find some rando to fuck me?

I’ve never imagined losing it to a psycho like Mal, though, and especially not in the context of an “arrangement” like ours.

“Spread your legs,” he growls as he climbs onto the bed with me, his cock rock-hard and his body rippling with thick muscles and ink. “And show me my fucking pussy.”

I can barely breathe. I push away from him a little bit, even as my legs fall open for him.

His muscled thighs push between mine. He leans down over me, pushing my arms above my head and pinning them there as he lowers his mouth to my breasts. I moan when he sucks a pale, tight, pierced nipple into his mouth. He bites down, making me cry out sharply and then immediately arch my back eagerly as his tongue soothes the bite.

His swollen cock nudges against my entrance, easing against my lips as my whole body tenses and goes still.

Suddenly, so does Mal.

“Are you a virgin?”

The question hits like a punch, and I force myself to look away, determined to keep my voice steady. “No.”

Mal’s hand slides up to my chin, gripping it firmly and turning my face toward him, forcing me to meet his intense gaze.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not⁠—”

“Don’t,” he snaps, cutting me off with a voice so sharp it makes my stomach twist. His grip tightens slightly, not painfully, but enough to send a clear message.

Mal’s brow furrows. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six,” I mumble, my face turning scarlet.

Yeah, this part definitely crossed my mind when I imagined losing it: what to say if someone questioned it being my first time at this age.

I just never imagined how pathetically awkward it would be.

“And I’m right, aren’t I.”

I don’t say anything. My lip twists between my teeth as I look away.

Mal leans down and bites one of my nipples.

Hard.

I squeal, gasping sharply as the pain rips my attention back to him.

“Aren’t I.”

“Yes,” I finally mumble, my face throbbing. “Happy?”

He doesn’t say a thing. But suddenly, he’s pulling away, sliding off me and getting out of bed. I frown, confused by and, embarrassingly, hating the rejected feeling I have in my chest as I watch him turn and start pulling his jeans back on.

Jesus Christ, am I upset that the psycho has decided not to fuck me for the first time?

Seek professional help, self.

Mal pulls on his shirt and turns to eye me as I curl up on the bed and pull the sheets over my nudity.

“Tomorrow night,” he mutters. “We’ll fix that.”

I blink, my mind racing. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m going to take your virginity, Freya,” Mal says, his voice matter of fact, like he’s stating something as simple as the weather. “This arrangement doesn’t work if you’re a virgin.”

My heart pounds wildly as I scramble for something to say. “I’m…busy tomorrow. It’s Annika’s bachelorette party.”

It’s not even a lie. It’s legit what I’ve got planned for tomorrow.

Mal says nothing as he stalks back to the bed. He reaches out and cups my chin, sliding his fingers down to my throat as he leans close.

“I don’t care.”

The darkness in his tone sends a wave of fear crashing through me, laced with something else—something I’m ashamed to admit.

Like everything he makes me feel.

“Tomorrow,” Mal growls softly. “You’re mine.”

His words hang in the air long after he’s gone, and my body is still trembling when I crawl into bed as dawn begins to break over the Manhattan skyline.

Needless to say, sleep doesn’t come easily.