Pure Destiny

by Aja James

  When she slowed, he slowed. When she drank longer, deeper, he gave her more of his cock, grinding up against her deepest pleasure, making her clench uncontrollably around him, squeezing him so tight he saw stars. And when she drank fast and furious, he jack-hammered into her until his hips and buttocks were completely raised from the ground, the brace of his legs and arms supporting both their weight as he planked his torso for leverage.

  The jolting effect of his relentless, hard and fast thrusting made her fangs tear his skin. He could feel the wound gaping, his blood running hot and copious down his neck, but he didn’t care. His healed body, vibrating with almost uncontainable strength, had plenty more.

  One of her hands clawed into his hair, holding his head at the exact angle she wanted; the other closing over this throat, exerting just enough pressure to reduce his intake of air. Coalescing his senses to two points—where she penetrated and fed from him, and where he penetrated and fed into her.

  Give it to me, Dalair, she commanded in his mind, her voice deep and resonant, a distorted sound that was both Sophia and Destroyer.

  I want it all. Give me everything.

  He exploded, then, on a shuddering exhale. Jerked and clenched and released in an unending flood.

  She sucked upon the torn flesh of his neck so hard the pain eclipsed the pleasure, making him hiss. Her core clamped tightly around him, milking him so brutally, his voice evaporated on a raw groan.

  But she didn’t relent, not even for a moment. Taking everything he had with merciless satisfaction.

  He felt it—the savage glee of the monster within her when it made him hurt. It reveled in the pain it caused him, as much as the pleasure. If the Destroyer were a physical being with fangs and claws, it would be tearing into him right now, shredding him into ribbons just so it could put him back together the way it wanted in a savage ritual of ownership and possession.

  But the monster was also Sophia, and she held it back from truly hurting him.

  At the height of the pain, it suddenly transmuted into a devastating, breath-stealing pleasure, as her core throbbed around him lovingly, easing him through the rest of his release, drawing it out, drinking him in. As her fangs gently retracted from his vein, and she licked the wound closed, her saliva electrifying his nerve endings with tiny shocks of ecstasy.

  Her body softened completely on top of his, molding to his hard planes and angles, calming his raging heat with soothing warmth. She lapped the excess blood from his skin, following its trail down his neck to his collarbone and pecs, her tongue swirling playfully around the hard pebbles of his nipples, first one, and then the other.

  The blood was gone by now, but she didn’t stop pleasuring him. With a voluptuous twist of her hips, she released him from her pussy.

  His unending erection, wet with their fluids, lay against his drum-tight stomach, pulsing with insatiable need. He could feel the physical proof of that need, a combination of pre-cum and the remnants of his last orgasm, leak out of the swollen, throbbing slit, down his hot column to the heavy weights below.

  Still so full. So ripe.

  He reached down and grasped his scrotum with one hand and squeezed, trying to relieve one kind of ache by distracting his body with another.

  She paused in her progression of kisses, licks and sucks down his torso, sat up slightly and looked down at him.

  “Do it again,” she rasped, her eyes intent upon his hand around his balls.

  “Squeeze it.”

  He did, making his staff jerk vicariously against his stomach, releasing a small burst of cream.

  She dipped one finger into the milky fluid at the plump, swollen head of him and drew it down his length.

  His member flexed to follow her touch, seeking as much friction as it could, hoping she’d wrap her fingers around it, or better yet her mouth.

  But she didn’t oblige him. Instead, she brought her fingertip to her mouth and sucked his essence from it with relish, torturing him with the knowledge that it should have been his cock instead.

  “Squeeze it harder,” she commanded, shifting her eyes to his fisted scrotum.

  He did, pulling his balls down at the same time, because he was getting close. His body wanted to feed that voracious hunger in her eyes. It wanted to come for her over and over and over.

  But only if she commanded it.

  Only if she begged for it.

  “Harder.”

  He obeyed, the veins popping on the back of his hand, wrist and forearm as he did so.

  The tender skin of his sac would bear the shape of his palm and fingers hours after they were done, but he didn’t care. The pain turned him on like nothing else, perhaps because he could see in her eyes how much it turned her on.

  Their will was one.

  “Take your cock in the other hand and fuck it like you would me,” she breathed, her black eyes burning with amber stars.

  “Don’t come until I say you can.”

  He did as she bid and began to pump his ultra-sensitive, stone-hard shaft into his tight fist, his other hand still holding his balls, cinching them at the base to stall his release.

  The juicy head of him swelled even further with each rise through his shackling fingers, the wet, slurping sound obscenely loud and tantalizing to his own ears.

  This was what it sounded like when he thrust into her liquid heat. But he never focused on it as he did now, too lost in other feelings when he was with her, surrounded in all ways by her.

  Now, because she kept herself apart from him, he had no choice but to focus on how he felt, how he sounded and smelled. His musk redolent and heavy in the air. His gasps shallow huffs wrenched forcibly from his chest.

  And that wet, slippery squeeze and release of his cock thrusting into a tight channel.

  All of his senses magnified and amplified and homed in on their connection. Sophia and him. This bristling dynamic between them that seemed like a living thing.

  “Spread your legs and raise your hips. I want to see everything.”

  He raised up and opened his body as she knelt beside him, touching him only with her fervent gaze.

  “Lift your balls, I want to see your star. I want to see it quiver and clench when you’re close.”

  Fuck.

  Dalair arched his back and thrust harder, her dark words spurring him on.

  He fucked his fist hard and brutal. His hand was big and his fingers long, but his cock was so thick from unquenchable need he could barely enclose it.

  The fit of his hand was tighter and harder because of this, even painful, reminding him of the stinging soreness already throbbing through the tortured column of flesh. Without her soft pussy and slickness to sooth his burning skin, the pain rose to an almost unbearable degree.

  But he kept on, displaying his naked need like a pagan god. Undiluted feelings and steaming, writhing flesh.

  He let her see every clench of his buttocks, every flex of his thighs. His shoulders, chest and biceps bunching. The muscles in his stomach tightening into steel bands with every undulation, the V of his hips stark, mirroring the corded lines of his taut throat as he struggled for breath.

  She watched it all with avid fascination and undisguised ravenousness.

  Mine, the black within her conquering eyes said.

  Mine, the light of her love for him echoed.

  Ah, gods, he needed her so much! He needed her touch, the tight clasp of her body. He needed her mouth on him. He needed to come more than he needed air.

  But she wouldn’t let him. His body wouldn’t release without her permission.

  “Sophia…” he rumbled in an animalistic sound that came less from his throat, more from his gut.

  She was killing him with his own desire.

  “Do you know what I want to do to you right now?”

  Her voice was deceptively mild and calm, though her eyes burned like hot coals, the universe in them ever expanding, voracious and barely contained.

  She scooted closer until sh
e knelt between his spread thighs, still not touching him.

  His breaths were shallow as he stared wordlessly at her, his hips rutting, ass clenching, fist pumping, showing her all of his naked desire and desperation.

  “I want to penetrate that beautiful hole with my fingers and tongue, stuff you full and make you mad with pleasure and pain the way you make me.”

  Shit.

  He’d never imagined…

  Of course he knew…

  But he didn’t know.

  He’d never wanted such a thing until she said it. His body was hers however she wanted to take him, and if that’s what she wanted, then she would have him. There’s nothing he’d ever deny her.

  His asshole clenched with anticipation, his entire body shuddering.

  “So hungry and dark,” she murmured, staring at the secret entrance to his body, like a starving woman before the richest feast.

  “Look at it open and close like a shy little mouth when you’re so, so close, coming inside without releasing your cream. One day soon, I’ll kiss it sweetly for hours on end, until it blooms like a flower to receive my tongue. I’ll lick inside so tenderly. Over and over and over. Would you like that, Dalair?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned in helpless abandon, unable to answer. Every muscle strung tight, his body shaking uncontrollably. She was right. He was orgasming already. But it was happening inside him, deep in his tissues and bones. Even though he hadn’t ejaculated yet.

  “Then, I’d sink one finger inside, maybe two,” she continued tormenting him with her wicked words. “Should I do it slicked with my saliva and our juices or should I do it dry so it burns with my possession of you?”

  Fucking hell!

  “I’d make up for the pain, I promise,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing, as if she was already imagining the process of hurting him then transmuting the pain into voluptuous pleasure.

  He imagined it too. His mind flooded with the images in her mind, their Bond making him experience everything she described as if it was happening right now.

  “I’d find that tender place within you that I know you have. I know because your body is mine, isn’t it? Tell me.”

  He couldn’t.

  He had no voice. No breath. No thought. Only stuttering gasps and low moans.

  She leaned down and nuzzled her face between his thighs, her nose nudging his knuckles, turned white from gripping his balls, her mouth puffing hot breaths against his shuddering star. She didn’t touch him anywhere else. She barely made contact there.

  This ephemeral touch was exquisite torture. His chest heaved, stomach and thigh muscles clenched to steel as if he was stretched on a torture rack in truth.

  “I know exactly where it is,” she said, her lips a hair’s breadth from his entrance.

  He could feel the satin of her mouth fluttering as she spoke, the warmth of her exhale stinging his most private flesh like a thousand butterfly kisses.

  He stroked himself harder, rougher, pounding up into his fist with unbridled fury, the way he wanted to punish her for tormenting him this way. She was going to make him lose his ever-loving mind after he just regained it!

  And still, she kept talking in that steady, informative way of hers, as if her words weren’t holding him hostage and flaying his control raw and bloody.

  “Just like you know exactly where my pleasure center is as well. You hit it so perfectly every time, like you were made for me. All you have to do is come inside and I splinter apart. Just like that, you shatter me.”

  Unprompted, Dalair peeled his two longest fingers away from his scrotum to press insistently on his perineum below.

  He was so hard and swollen there. From his lower abdomen to his hole and everything in between—it hurt so bad, this ever-increasing pressure and ache, the fire that burned through him, like a volcano broiling with lava, readying to explode.

  And still, she didn’t relent.

  “I was made for you too. I’d rub your sweet spot endlessly as I suck on your fat crown like the sweetest plum. Would it fit in my tiny little mouth, I wonder? It’s so swollen now, so needy. It’ll be a tight squeeze to be sure. Just like my fingers and tongue in your tender hole. I’ll make you feel so, so good.”

  Fucking gods!

  What was she doing to him?

  He experienced her words as if she was physically doing these things to him right now. Her tongue and fingers in his ass, thrusting deep. He could even feel the tantalizing burn of it in his virgin hole. Which tightened reflexively, clenching on emptiness.

  The sensations overloaded his mind, unraveling the last tenuous threads of his control, making his cock jerk with a gush of seed that drenched his hand as he continued to ruthlessly pump his fist.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, “You released without permission.”

  She noted this with both satisfaction and something dark and…sly.

  “How should I punish you, warrior? Make you go on like this for the rest of the night without completion? Or make you climax so many times and for so long you’ll plead with me to stop?”

  He opened his eyes and met hers, his chest rising and depressing like bellows, the sweat on his hot skin shimmering.

  I don’t beg, he communicated to her with the intensity of his stare.

  A dangerous, voracious smile spread slowly across her lips as the monster within her rejoiced at the challenge.

  We shall see.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He was her trigger, all right.

  Dalair brought out the Destroyer in her full force. But this time, it wasn’t the world she wanted to take apart in vengeance.

  It was him.

  All her need, primitive and raw; all her possessiveness, terrifying in its intensity; and all her love, boundless and wild—everything zeroed in on Dalair.

  He was her trigger, yes.

  But he was also the answer to any question she could ever ask. He was her solution, her antidote. He fired her up and calmed her down. He made her feel limitless while always grounding her with his protection. It was the most exhilarating way to soar—to know that you never have to fear falling.

  Sophia could feel the power in her blood roaring through her veins, making them stand out beneath her skin. She didn’t need to look a mirror to see that her eyes must have gone pitch black, voracious with hunger and need. But she didn’t feel the tell-tale wrath and violence that always threatened to overwhelm her when the Destroyer rose to the surface of her consciousness. She only felt lust.

  Unquenchable, insatiable lust for her Mate.

  The love was there too, as it always was. Perhaps it would help temper the ways she wanted to destroy him.

  Then again—she bared her teeth in a feral grin—perhaps not.

  Slowly, like a slinking jungle cat, she crawled on all fours over his body. Directly over his pumping fist she lowered herself, until the length of him that couldn’t fit in his broad palm, including the plump, swollen head, was squeezed between her breasts.

  “Hold only the root of your sex,” she commanded as she pushed her breasts together with her hands so that his maleness was nestled snugly in her cleavage.

  “Now thrust.”

  With a stuttering breath, he obeyed, one hand fisting the base of his cock, the other hand gripping his balls, two fingers continuously pressing against his perineum. He tightened his core muscles to thrust up into the channel created by her breasts, coating her skin with his slick.

  “Does it feel good, my warrior?” she taunted, spearing his eyes with her own.

  They were as black as hers now, no silver in sight, his pupils completely blown.

  “Yes,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, more of a hiss, less of a word.

  “More,” he rasped, fusing their gazes with desperate intensity.

  “No,” she rebuked, lifting away from him, taking away the heavenly pressure of her soft, rounded flesh around his aching head, and making it shudder helplessly at the loss.


  A stream of pre-cum poured out of his slit, sliding down the heated stalk, making the veins that wrapped around it bulge and flex as if angry.

  “Beg me.”

  He gave an infinitesimal shake of his head.

  Make me, the stubborn motion said.

  She grinned beatifically at him, flashing her sharp, Pure female fangs. Oh, how she loved it when he invited her monster to play.

  This push and pull had always been between them. Sometimes, she fought the magnetism, sometimes he did. For different reasons, they both did, when she was Kira and now Sophia.

  Perhaps she pulled away out of self-preservation, as if she knew that he would enslave her, that she would lose all sense and reason for want of him. That the loss of him would lead her to destroy everything and everyone in mindless retribution, including herself.

  Perhaps he pulled away because he felt too much. Because she pushed all of his buttons. He was such a tightly controlled man. So honorable and selfless. Restrained. But when he was with her, his rules didn’t apply.

  She loved that she could make him lawless.

  She crawled a little more over his body, pressing down so that she dragged her drenched pussy over his fists, coating his hands with her wetness, just to make sure he knew exactly how badly she wanted him. And if he asked nicely, all that hot, liquid silk would be wrapped tightly around him where he needed her the most.

  But he merely locked his jaw and held her stare.

  Hmm…he was a tough nut to crack. Her inner beast sharpened its claws in anticipation.

  When she hovered directly above the engorged head of him, she ground down to take the tip inside.

  His breath stopped; his chest froze.

  She let him go with a wet pop from her greedy little pussy.

  He huffed an exhale.

  She ground down again and swiveled, then released him with another slurpy suction.

  His nostrils flared, as his upper lip curled to reveal his gritted teeth.

  On and on, she tormented him, working just the sensitive, fat head of him into her tight channel in an unrushed, methodical series of undulations.

  “Sophia…” he warned, his voice frayed and guttural.

  “Beg me,” she demanded.