Page 95 of Inflict

He could shove them away for a while.

He could pretend they didn’t exist.

The further they got out of the bathroom, the better he started to feel. The trail of wet clothes he left behind—all pulled off of his lover—hit the floor with smacks, leaving puddles with each piece.

Evelyn helped a lot with making him focus on something else for a while, what with her demanding mouth taking a slow inventory of his throat, then down his chest, and lower. Connor found himself standing in the middle of the dark hallway, his head tipped back and his eyes rolled high to the sky as her hot mouth came in contact with his hard cock.

She took him deep into her throat without hesitation, the texture of her tongue sent sparks from the base of his cock straight to his balls. Her nails dug into his thighs as her teeth dragged down his length, and holy shite, all he could see were stars bursting beyond his eyes.

The groan he let loose was feckin’ primal.

It even hurt making its way out of his throat—raw and blinding.

It was easy, maybe too easy, to get lost in the way she sucked him off, all hard and fast, uncaring if his cock went a wee bit too deep, or if he yanked on her hair and pulled her in faster. The slick heat of her mouth, the tightness of her lips wrapping around his cock, was enough to make him stupid in the feckin’ head.

And he didn’t even care.

“Feckin’ there.” His words came out in a growl. “Suck that cock, love.”

All too soon, he was coming, hard enough to make his knees weak and his hands shake with the fistfuls of Evelyn’s hair. She never even slowed at the feeling of his cum hitting her tongue, and instead, sucked him harder.

She sucked him dry.

It still wasn’t enough.

His cock was still hard, his head was still too loud, and his body still felt too much. He didn’t want to feel those things at all.

“Come on, then,” Evelyn said in a whisper, standing when he pulled her up. “Can’t I handle it, Connor?”

He didn’t respond, simply turned her around, swatted her arse firmly, and sent her moving toward the bedroom. Evelyn’s legs hit the bed at the same time he was climbing over her, spreading her thighs wide and fitting himself between them.

Her back arched high off the bed the moment he filled her with his first thrust, and she only grinned when his hand found her throat, forcing her head back and taking away just enough of her air. His other hand grabbed tight to her side, her skin pinking under his digging fingertips as he pulled her body into his for the second thrust.

The harder he took her, the more she smiled.

She wasn’t even mad, he knew, but she took it somewhere else in his head, somewhere far away, where his aggression and anxiety was focused in on feeling her, not feeding a monster.

The firmer he squeezed her throat, the more she goaded him.

Is that all you got and fuck you, fuck you.

She knew exactly what she was doing, demanding more, taunting him to give her more than he already was.

He let her.

It was only after she had come, then again on her knees with his arm wrapped around her throat, did he hear her ask him again. The words came out soft and breathless, her voice raw from crying out and losing air over and over again.

“Can’t I handle it, Connor?”

He kind of loved it … or maybe that was her.

• • •

“Evelyn?” Connor came to stand in the doorway of his studio, finding the lass in question standing in the very middle of the room, looking as though she had been waiting for him. Surrounding her were sheets upon sheets of drawings, all turned up for him to see. “What are you doing?”

He’d spent his morning with his head stuck in a coffee cup that was more whiskey than it was coffee, not that he made it a regular thing to do. He needed something to perk him up, considering he hadn’t slept at all, and Evelyn could only stay awake for so long to feed into his crazy nonsense.

Evelyn looked around at the drawings. “I wanted to show you something.”