Page 113 of The Fire Went Wild
“Are you sure you don’t want me to use my knife?” he whispers, brushing a loose strand of hair out of my eyes.
I nod, never looking away from him. Pale winter sunlight filters through the cracks in the tomb’s roof, dappling us with shadows. He warned me strangulation wouldn’t be an easy death, not like cutting my throat. But it could be pleasurable.
He would make it pleasurable.
“Tell me when you’re ready.”
I breathe in, filling my lungs. His cock brushes against my clit, inflaming me, and I reach down and guide him into my pussy, making him gasp in surprise.
The darkness inside me pulses.
“I’m ready,” I whisper.
“I can tell.” He thrusts into me slowly, carefully, his lips trailing kisses along my jaw. “You’re drenched, cher.”
He kisses me before I can respond, so I roll my hips against him instead, wrapping my legs around his waist, drawing him inside me so he’ll feel my body quake as I stop breathing.
Jaxon kisses me for a long time, slow and sensual, his thrusts keeping pace. He trails his fingers around my neck, a tease of what’s coming next, and I moan into him, building up the pleasure for my orgasm.
“You’re getting close,” he breathes into my ear.
“Yes,” I gasp back.
“Good.” He raises himself up just enough to gaze down at me, his face flushed with exertion.
His fingers dig a little deeper into my neck.
“You’re going to come for me before you die.”
I nod as he brings his other hand up to join the first, his long fingers spreading across my throat. I cry out, bucking into him, grinding my clit against the base of his cock. Heat builds in my belly, sparking with an undercurrent of depravity, a sprinkle of fear.
More. I want more.
“Last chance to tell me to stop.” His thrusts are deep and rhythmic, his big cock sliding against some spot inside me that makes me spark and shiver.
And I don’t even have to think about it. Because I’ve done all my thinking already. This is what I want.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I rasp.
Jaxon’s grin splits his face open?—
And then he squeezes.
He squeezes hard, and tight, digging his thumbs against my trachea. I try to cry out, but my voice is trapped in my throat. Trapped by his hands. His cock slams in and out of me, body angled just right that he shoves it across my clit, giving me the sensation I need as my lungs burn and my head spins.
“It’s going to be so fun to fuck you when you’re dead,” he purrs, pressing his weight down on my throat. My body thrashes of its own accord, some primitive part of my brain telling it to fight for survival. It’s not conscious.
Because I want it.
I want it so bad.
“That’s it,” Jaxon whispers, his eyes wild with lust. White spots dot the edge of my vision, and Jaxon eases up just enough that I suck in another thin lungful of air to keep me conscious for a few seconds longer. I’m close. The pressure is building up in clit and my cunt both, a hot swirling hurricane of need. I try to goad him, but all that comes out are strained, choking sounds.
Jaxon squeezes my throat tighter.
The world blinks, and my body erupts.
It’s a monstrous swell of an orgasm heightened by the lack of oxygen. The light streaming through the gaps in the bones seems to swirl and dance, braiding together until there’s nothing but whiteness, a light so bright it burns black on the back of my eyelids, and I see its face. The god that Jaxon worships. The god that brought me to him so he could save me.