Chapter 11: God of Wrath: Chapter 11

My ears ring until I can’t hear my own breathing.

For a moment, I’m hanging in space, unable to concentrate on anything but these intense gray eyes that appeared in more nightmares than I can count.

And dreams.

Lots of filthy dreams that would make Remi the prude if he ever saw them.

Jeremy advances toward me with sure, long steps. He looks the same as when he used to stalk me.

A leather jacket, black jeans, and a scowl so deep, it could make a person confess to crimes they didn’t commit.

His sharp features are shadowed by the lack of light, making him look like a reaper, a devil in his natural habitat.

A devil whose whole punishing attention zeroes in on me.

A zipping sensation slashes through my trembling limbs, mirroring the one from when I ran through that forest and he caught me.

Slammed me down.

Ravaged me.

Made me scream.

My hand pauses on my folds, and I swear he can see it through the thin material of my underwear and shorts, because his attention slides to them.

He probably sees how my fingers tremble, giving away what I’m doing.

If I were doused with gasoline, I’d probably catch fire from his stare alone. Or glare. Or something in between.

There’s a mystic quality to the way he looks at me. It rushes through my aching insides and rips out parts of me I thought were long dead.

He stops by my bedside, arms crossed, and his thumb strokes his jacket in a controlled rhythm. Back. Forth.

Back and forth.

“Is this a dream?” I ask in a sluggish, and definitely drunk, voice.

“I don’t know. Do you think it is?” His low timbre reverberates in the room and stabs my ears.

I focus on our surroundings, on my ‘nerdy’ room, as Remi calls it, with books and manga posters covering the walls and the ceiling.

The chatter, laughter, and karaoke-singing reach me from outside, and I realize the semi-party is still going.

Or this is in fact a dream and I conjured him.

“You… Why are you here?” I start to remove my hand from beneath my shorts, but he shakes his head.

“Hide again and I’ll leave.”

I swallow, flattening my palm on my folds. Jeremy’s expression doesn’t change, whether in approval or displeasure, as he reaches for the elastic of my sleeping shorts.

My free hand grabs his, my nails digging into the veins on the back of it.

“Let go,” he orders with easy authoritativeness. The type that gets past the confinements of my ears and flows into my blood instead.

My fingers tremble and it’s my turn to shake my head. I’m sluggish and can barely think straight, but I can still remember those horrendous images.

Those…loss-of-control pictures.

But then Jeremy comes into focus, with his mean demeanor and not-classically handsome face.

It’s savage beauty as merciless as its owner’s.

“I said. Let. Go.” The punch behind his words strikes me in my shriveling chest.

My fingers slowly pull away. They’re not completely free when he yanks down my shorts.

The motion is so sudden and violent that I gasp, or I think I do, but not actually, because my reactions are delayed.

He throws the shorts aside and hooks his fingers in the waistline of my underwear.

I go to catch his hand again, but this time, a single look is enough to make me pause.

“You need to quit the habit of disobeying me as your knee-jerk reaction.” He removes the underwear, slightly ripping them before he throws them toward the shorts. “If I want you naked, I’ll have you naked.”

My pulse spikes and I can’t help the mixture of vulnerability and thrill that courses inside me.

Of fear and anticipation.

Uncertainty and resolution.

I’ve never been as conflicted as when I’m in Jeremy’s presence.

It’s like he’s able to unlock a part of me I didn’t realize existed. Or I did but still tried everything under the sun to shackle it.

His rough gaze openly watches, studies, and slides over my most intimate part that I’m barely covering with my hand.

Then he glides his attention to my face. “Go on. Show me how you touch yourself. Show me what you do when your little cunt is horny and you’re unable to take it any longer.”

Heat creeps up my cheeks at his crass words. No one has ever spoken to me like this and the novelty of it makes me tremble.

“Play with yourself,” he orders again. “Unless you want me to do it for you?”

I shake my head, more out of habit than anything else, and slowly circle my fingers along my soaking folds. Ever since he barged into my dream, they’ve become wetter, dripping, making a mess out of my fingers.

Slow pleasure starts to hum beneath the surface and I turn my head, hiding my face in the pillow.

“Eyes on me.” His voice jerks me back into position and I hate how my eyes instantly fly to his. How I get lost in them in a matter of seconds.

“Thrust a finger inside you,” he tells me. “Let me watch you fuck yourself.”

“I…I don’t do that.”

The only way I get orgasms is through clit play.

“I wasn’t asking.” He snatches my hand and lifts it to his face.

I think I’m going to explode.

Jeremy slides my fingers into his mouth. The same fingers that were playing with my pussy and are all soaked with my arousal are between his lips.

His tongue swirls between them, licking, sucking, making them wetter. Then, without notice, he thrusts my middle and ring fingers into my pussy.

A soundless shriek is all I can release as his bigger hand engulfs mine and he drives my fingers in and out of my core.

This is the first time I’ve ever fingered myself, and it feels foreign and rhythmic, yet sensually pleasurable.

I start to hide my face in the pillow again, but a single stern look from him makes me abandon the idea.

“You’re soaking wet for someone who doesn’t finger themselves.”

“Your cunt is drenching my hand.”

“So messy, Lisichka.”

My whole body trembles, his words adding to the intensity of his touch. Because, no, it’s not my fingers that are eliciting this sharp pleasure. It’s all him.

And his filthy mouth, controlling touch, and spellbinding presence.

“I think your soaking cunt is inviting me to have a taste.”

I’m still waiting for my delayed apprehension to kick in when he kneels by the bed and pries my legs open.

I gasp, but I don’t fight him.

I can’t.

I don’t want to.

Jeremy places a finger to his mouth. “Shh. Unless you want your friends to see you eaten for dinner.”

He pulls my hand from my pussy and grabs each of my thighs in a strong palm as he dives in.

My back arches off the bed when he licks all the way from my opening to my clit.

The intensity of the act beats and ripples inside me, and I attempt to escape, even temporarily.

I’m not ready for what he does next.

Jeremy physically jerks me upward so that my back is bent and I’m half hanging in the air as he eats me out.

The position is awkward at best, and I slam my palms on the headboard and the wall to get some semblance of balance.

But I think that’s his purpose behind all of this. He doesn’t want me to move, doesn’t want me to stop or try to intervene.

This way, I’m completely his to do with whatever he pleases.

Not that I can fight and push him away when I’m drunk out of my mind.

Hell, I can’t even do that when I’m sober.

What I can do, however, is feel every zip of pleasure, every lick, bite, and controlled display of command.

Jeremy thrusts his tongue inside my opening, tongue-fucking me with brutal strokes. He alternates between that and biting and nibbling on my clit and teasing my folds.

The change of pace and action turns me delirious. It’s impossible to keep up, impossible to remain in this mindset.

Where pleasure is so intense that I’m unable to see anything past it. My hips jerk involuntarily, chasing the release that I’m sure will detonate me from the inside out.

Jeremy goes harder, faster, stronger.

And I’m done.

My heart nearly stops as I moan, then slap a hand over my mouth. I’d die of shame if anyone walked in on this scene and saw me being eaten out as if I’m being possessed.

The orgasm rocks through me with a power that leaves me panting, the sounds echoing around me as I’m forced to breathe the smell of my arousal.

And .

The man who’s bringing me this pleasure—or more like yanking it out of me kicking and screaming.

He lets my body fall on the bed and I’m a shaking mess from the aftereffects of the orgasm.

How come it feels this overwhelming? How come I can’t sense my body, yet I sense it too much at the same time?

“I knew you’d taste like my new favorite meal.” He darts his tongue out and licks the glistening wetness on his lips.

I think I’ll come from the sight alone.

“Do you have any idea how sensitive and responsive you are? Your tiny moans and muffled groans made my cock want to take my tongue’s place.” His fingers latch onto his jeans’ buttons, undoing them one at a time, slowly, unhurriedly, as if he knows the exact effect he has on me and is deepening it.

Toying with me to his heart’s content.

When he frees his shaft, I jerk backward slightly, shaking my head. It’s big in both length and girth and is so hard that I physically recoil.

“You…you’re not putting that thing inside me.”

“Oh, I will. And ? Seriously? Is that what you call a cock in your head?” He straddles me and jerks his shaft up and down in a fierce motion.

If he handles himself that roughly, he’ll undo me in no time.

“Please don’t.” Tears gather in my eyes.

“Shh.” He leans over and presses his tongue to my lid, licking my tears before they even escape, then whispers against my skin, “Don’t cry when we haven’t started yet.”

A sob escapes my lungs, and I place two trembling hands on his chest. “I-I’m drunk. I won’t be able to fight you.”

“You wouldn’t be able to fight me even if you weren’t drunk.”

“J-Jeremy…please.”

“Would you have begged Landon, too, if he were here? No, you wouldn’t. You would’ve opened your legs and offered him your ass if he’d so much as looked at it.”

“Lan wouldn’t do this to me,” I murmur. “He’s not a monster.”

He lifts his fist in the air and I close my eyes, expecting him to punch me or something, but only a thud reaches my ears.

On the mattress.

That’s what I realize when I peek through my lids. He drove his fist into the mattress.

And his eyes have become so dark, they damn near swallow me whole.

“A monster, huh?” His calm voice contradicts his expression as he grabs my jaw with raw power that chills me to the bone. “If that’s what you think of me, might as well go for it, no?”

My nails claw into his shirt with a desperation I’ve never felt before.

Not only to stop him, but also because I don’t want to lose whatever feeling that’s been slowly but surely developing in my chest.

“Kiss me,” I whisper in a desperate attempt to distract him.

He pauses, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was caught off guard. “Why?”

“Please kiss me.” I try to lift my head, but his grip on my jaw forbids it.

“You want to kiss a monster?”

“I never said I was normal.”

“You’re an annoying fucking existence.”

“Still, you’re here.”

“That I am.”

“Kiss me, then, Jeremy. Just—”

My words are cut off when his lips slam against mine. They’re violent and absolutely claiming.

He kisses me like he already owns me, has the deeds to prove it, and is marking me for the world to see.

It’s much more animalistic than the kiss at that club. That one was consuming but slow and passionate.

It felt safe back then, which is why I asked him to kiss me now. It was an attempt to recreate that atmosphere, but this one is by no means like that time.

He’s punishing me. Jeremy bites my tongue so hard that I groan and buck. More tears escape my eyes as I bite back, harder, until a metallic taste explodes in my mouth.

Jeremy drinks the blood off my tongue, then makes me swallow it. He tightens his hold on my jaw and pushes my head back so he can get deeper, closer, to a part of me that I can’t reach.

It’s like he’s punishing me for even asking to kiss him.

For everything else I said, too.

And illogically, it doesn’t feel threatening. It’s safe like back at the club but in a completely different way.

It’s safe and threatening and gray.

All at the same time.

When he wrenches his mouth from mine, I gasp, inhaling sharp intakes of air.

Jeremy watches me with that raw power in his gaze, the hurricane in his gray eyes, as his thumb wipes the blood from the corner of his lower lip.

There’s a nip there, and I realize that I actually drew his blood.

“Aren’t you an adorable little fighter?” He slides up, nearly crushing me with his weight as he straddles my head so that his knees are on either side, then grabs his shaft again, placing it at my battered lips. “Open.”

I purse them shut and stare at him.

“Either open your mouth or I’ll use another hole.”

My lips tremble.

“Are you scared of me, Cecily?”

“No.” I lie through my teeth. Because, yes, I thought I was courageous enough to not be intimidated by the notorious Jeremy Volkov, but that was way before I actually got to meet the real him.

The decadent, lawless beast.

“You should be.” He slaps my mouth with his weighty shaft. “I don’t make idle threats.”

It dawns on me then.

As I stare into his light-devoid eyes, I realize just how different Jeremy is. He really wouldn’t care if he broke me, or fucked me when I was drunk.

Knowing full well that I’m a virgin.

It’s about what he wants, and if I don’t give him that, he’ll just take it.

And a part of me is tempted to do that, to provoke him to take it.

But not when I’m drunk. I really wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I woke up tomorrow knowing full well that I didn’t allow the real me to make the decision.

So I open my mouth slowly.

Jeremy doesn’t wait or make introductions. He drives all the way inside, hitting the back of my throat. I gag and I think I’ll throw up all over myself, but he pulls away.

His hand fists in my hair and he tugs me up by it. “Suck and make it good or I’ll switch to your other available holes and in no particular order.”

My sluggish movements pick up in speed, but not immediately. There was a moment, one single foolish moment where my eyes widened for a completely different reason than fear.

Or being appalled.

For a second, I wanted to see if he’ll make good on his threat.

There’s definitely something wrong with me. I blame my drunk brain’s delayed response. That’s the only reason.

There couldn’t possibly be anything else.

My licks and sucks are tentative at best, but I try to go faster, thinking maybe that will do the trick.

The problem is that he’s really big; I haven’t even gotten all of him in, and my jaw aches.

“You’ve never sucked cock before, have you?” His voice is dark with lust.

My cheeks heat, and I hope he thinks it’s because of my lack of air and not actually shame.

“Such an innocent little virgin with a dangerous kink.” He mobilizes me with my hair. “I’ll show you how you please me, how you open your mouth for me when I tell you to. You’ll offer me this hole and any other hole I want to stick my cock into.”

He drives in with a raw power that robs me of air.

“Open your mouth wider and stick out your tongue.”

The moment I do, it’s like I’ve unleashed a beast. Using my tongue for friction, he hits the back of my throat, over and over, but when I’m about to gag, he pulls out, giving me some air before he thrusts back in again.

He uses my mouth like it’s his custom-made hole, pressing me into the mattress, holding me in place with his merciless grip on my hair.

“Your mouth is made for fucking.” He slides all the way out again. “So hot and wet and pliant.”

“I think you have an oral fixation. Not only do you like kissing, but you also take my cock so well at the back of your throat. You’ll let me stuff this mouth with my cum and then swallow every drop, won’t you?”

My only reply is grabbing him by the jacket, nails digging into the leather.

“Do you want more, my greedy little virgin?” He pounds in and out of my mouth. “I want more, too. I want to corrupt, tarnish, and ruin you so deeply, no one will recognize you when I’m done with you. Not even your fucking prince.”

And then he thrusts so wildly, I think I’ll black out.

I’ve never experienced this level of intensity. Of savage claim.

It’s like he can’t touch me hard enough, or engrave himself inside me deep enough.

Jeremy is a man who takes unapologetically, destroys ruthlessly, then walks away silently.

He’s a true monster who knows exactly what he wants. And apparently, right now, what he wants is to ruin me.

For some reason, I like that unapologetic part of him, the assertiveness in his actions. The take-it-or-leave-it attitude.

Maybe because I lack it when it matters the most—when I have to make decisions about myself.

Jeremy fucks my mouth like he has a grudge against it and me. He rams in and out at a speed I can’t keep up with.

Then he pulls out and I blink when hot spurts of his cum cover my face, sprinkling on my eyes, my cheeks, nose, lips, and neck.

Everywhere.

He reaches out a thumb, gathers his cum, and slides it inside my mouth with his middle and ring finger.

The motion is erotic and makes my legs clench, or maybe it’s the attentive way he watches me swallow every drop. Sucking his fingers clean.

The more appreciation he shows, the more diligent I become.

A gruff sound leaves his throat as he taps my lips one final time. “I knew you had an oral fixation.”

He leans over and brushes his lips against mine.

It’s a small kiss, way too soft compared to everything he’s done. Actually, the softest thing he’s done.

But then he bites my lower lip and I gasp when a metallic taste explodes in my mouth.

Jeremy licks it, then taps his own bite that I gave him. “Next time, I’ll draw your virgin blood.”

“There will be a next time?” I ask, a little scared, a little excited.

“Oh, there will be a next time.” He strokes my hair back. “You’ll be mine to do with as I please.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Are you going to have sex with me?”

“I won’t have sex with you, Cecily. I will fuck you.”

I slowly close my eyes, letting a tear loose. I’m not sure what type of tear it is.

A resignation tear probably.

I don’t wait for him to leave as I let my body relax, wishing the dream would end.

Wishing the dream would never end.

Wishing this wasn’t a dream.