The Bound Angel (Sacrilege Rising: Book 1)

Chapter Six

Meredith existed in the empty space between dreaming and awake.

Mike’s cock was stuffed in her mouth. It was both hard as steel and soft as silk, and her tongue delved into every crevasse, becoming as familiar with its shape and size as she was with her own body. She tasted precum and swirled it around with her tongue.

Then she pushed deeper, circling her lips around the base, holding him at the back of her throat while he moaned, holding, holding, until her vision spotted at the edges.

Then she was back at work, freaking out over the schedule. Someone did something to piss her off, but she couldn’t remember what. Computer screen swam before her eyes, pulsing between fuzzy and sharp, until she noticed it. There was a hole in the schedule. Someone called out sick. Dammit, why were they always doing that? Didn’t they know how hard it was to fix? Didn’t they care that it would take her a whole morning of calls and texts and emails to see if someone could fill in or if the client could reschedule?

It made her claustrophobic. It was suffocating, like she couldn’t breathe, like there was something in her mouth, something blocking her throat, hot and hard and forceful.

Mike was holding her head in place and thrusting, thrusting, harder, and harder, until…

Meanwhile, the rest of the world around her didn’t stop, or even slow down. Tom was shouting again. They were out of something, and it was her job to fix that too, of course. They didn’t know. They couldn’t know.

But Meredith did. She knew all sorts of things they didn’t. Her eyes had been opened to something wonderful, something she never, ever wanted to end. It was satisfaction and power like she’d never felt before.

Oh yes, the power was real. She could bring Mike pleasure like he never dreamed, like he never even knew was possible. His desires were hers to fulfill, and that was intoxicating.

But Meredith wasn’t alone. There were others with her. Mike was focused on someone else now, someone lean and graceful and so very pretty. She was straddling his hips, grinding, legs spread lewdly, biting her bottom lip, and…

And Emma was floating on a river of bliss. She was free of worry, of stress, of guilt and… everything. Her mind was empty. Her thoughts were scattered. Since coming to the States, she’d felt so much pressure. Pressure not to disappoint her family, pressure to achieve her goals, pressure to make friends and get good grades. It was overwhelming.

And now it was gone. Now she was free to just live in the moment and indulge in whatever idle fancy caught her attention, to savor the thick, hard length filling her pussy and the way it hit just… the right… spot… oh.

Oh, that was wonderful. But her hips wouldn’t stay still and suddenly it was gone. Could she find it again? If she just rocked this way… mmm… there it was. Her aching pussy clenched around the thickness filling her. Just a few more times… a few more… ah… there it was, and this time it started in her core and rolled through her body like a wave until her toes curled and her breath caught.

But a thought nibbled at the back of her mind. She was supposed to be… somewhere else, doing… something else. Why couldn’t it just go away and leave her in peace? Something was due, soon, that she was supposed to be working on. Couldn’t it just leave her be? A project. For school. Something about… she couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t she remember? Why couldn’t it just go the bloody hell away?

She lost the spot. She leaned on Mike’s chest and rocked her hips, searching, desperately searching, but then he moved. He gripped her waist and he was thrusting, pounding, fucking, and he found the spot himself and was hitting it over and over and over until the wave was rolling through her body again and she…

Wait, why was Mike here? The thought rocked her. He’d… done something. She was mad at him, but why? What did he do, other than… oh, that spot again. It had been such a long time, and she needed a good hard fuck.

But Mike? Her Mike? Recognition threatened to sweep away the bliss wrapping around her like a blanket. She opened her eyes and saw Mike looking up at her, his hands on her waist, his face relaxed with pleasure.

Then someone moaned. There was someone else with them. She had curly hair, and Emma thought she recognized… another moan. It hadn’t come from the curly-haired girl.

A third woman was with them, dark and mysterious. She had skin like burnt caramel, eyes like onyx gemstones, hair like black silk. She was laying on her back with her legs up on Mike’s shoulders and…

And Allie basked in the sin in his eyes. Finally, someone who could match her. Someone who wasn’t afraid. Someone who didn’t meekly fall back on tradition or get overwhelmed by her needs. She finally found someone who would stand up to her, who could took what she offered and run with it. Someone interesting.

Now she just had to figure out how to win. It was the first real challenge she’d had in a long, long time. The world was weak and boring, but this was different. This would take her full focus. She just had to… had to…

He just needed to stop pounding her poor pussy. Each hard thrust scrambled her thoughts. But, god, please don’t stop, not now, not when she was so close. She was bent in half, his weight pressing her knees into her chest as he ruthlessly fucked her.

Her mind was caught between the relentless pounding, the puzzle in her thoughts, and something else. It pulled her down like a weight tied to her ankle. It softened the edges of her mind so she couldn’t think straight, telling her to just give up, give in, let him do as he pleased. Which was counter to her very being. Oh, he could do what he wanted, but he had to earn it first. She wouldn’t give him anything. He had to take it. That’s what made it divine.

But it kept pulling at her, dragging her down, blanking her thoughts until her existence became a series of flashes, like a video blurring between fleeting, euphoric moments. Though she tried to hold on, the events between those lucid seconds were hazy.

Each time she came up for air she fought, mentally clawing with tooth and nail to retain clarity this time. She had to figure him out. She had to win. But thinking straight was impossible while his cock was making her moan and that other thing was pulling at her mind.

His eyes called to her; those dark, triumphant, concerned eyes. And it was tugging again… dragging her down… she was starting to drift… she wanted her own triumph. There had to be a way to turn things to her advantage, to come out on top, if only so he could take it away again. There had to be…

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