He pulled on her oversensitive nipples with his lips and his tongue, like he knew it almost hurt, that it hovered somewhere in that searing hot place that was almost too much to take. He rubbed her with that fucking beard of his until she sobbed. Then he used his teeth, and when she started to shake and rock against him, making noises she didn’t know she could make, he laughed.

The sensation shot through her, straight from her tender nipples in a blazing trail of fire to her pussy and she shuddered against him, making him laugh some more as he set her back on the floor, still maintaining his same pace, just a little bit harder and just a little bit faster than she could handle.

“I’m going to—”

“Yeah, you are,” he muttered and he bit her nipple, the pain of it bursting bright and wild inside of her and careening into the pleasure somehow, all of it tangling together and turning white hot—

And she lost herself all over again, and he was right, she screamed.

Wordless and high, but it was still a scream.

“Nice,” he said when she opened her eyes again, that smug grin on his face and that same bright hunger in his eyes. “Next time, try my name. It sounds better.”

She rubbed at her face and her hands came away wet, and she had no idea if she’d cried or drooled or who even knew. She didn’t care.

“You’re an awful, awful man.”

“That’ll work, too.”

He’d shifted while she was busy falling off the side of the world, pulling out of her and shoving his jeans the rest of the way off. Sophie sprawled there, trying to catch her breath, and he pushed her hair back from her face, that hard, needy thing still glittering there in his blue eyes.

“Look at you,” he growled at her. “You’re a mess, little girl. Naked and crying on the living room floor. And I’m not done.”

“Maybe I am.”

His smile then was so wicked, so purely evil in all the best ways, that Sophie felt that flame inside of her spark anew and flicker higher.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

Sophie’s mouth fell open. She felt it. And more than that, she felt her body respond to him, that delicious shiver of heat that clenched hard in her pussy and then spread outward, making everything burn.

Maybe she really was a junkie, after all. And he was the hit.

And she just couldn’t seem to care about that, either.

“What’s the matter?” His voice was a soft taunt. “Afraid you can’t keep up with me?”

“You’re an old man,” she threw back at him. “How hard can it be?”

He grinned at that, dark and wicked, and made a lazy circle in the air with his fingers, ordering her to turn over.

Sophie felt like jelly. Her bones didn’t seem to work and her body didn’t want to obey her commands, and she thought he could tell. She heard him laugh as she rolled and then braced herself in position, her hands down in front of her and her knees somehow holding her up.

“Fucking beautiful,” Ajax muttered, and then his hands were on her.

Sophie closed her eyes and gave herself over to him. She felt him move behind her, felt his strong thighs behind hers. He ran his hands all over her back, tracing the angel wings she’d had tattooed there as her definitive act of defiance against her father when she’d been nineteen and Priest had still been treating her like she was a child.

He hadn’t called her his angel for at least a year after that, he’d been so pissed, but she’d never regretted it.

And she certainly didn’t regret it now, as Ajax licked his way across each wing as if they were made out of sugar, making her tense a bit beneath him and sway, like that might move him along when he was clearly playing.

He followed the length of her spine with his mouth, the scratch of his beard and the heat of his tongue making her shift restlessly beneath him. He kept going when he reached her ass, setting his teeth against one cheek and grabbing a fistful of the other. She felt him growl against her, felt it vibrate through her whole body and particularly into her clit, and she shifted again.

He replaced his mouth with his other hand.

“Put your head on the floor,” he gritted out.

Sophie didn’t think. She obeyed.

Ajax spread her open, and he wasn’t gentle, and then he closed his mouth over her pussy and sucked. Hard.

Sophie cried out, but he was only getting started. He ate her. He was ferocious and he was thorough. He opened his mouth and got sloppy, his beard the rough counterpoint to his wicked tongue against her clit and the things he could do with that mouth.

He left her shuddering, her hands in fists on the floor next to her face, and then he licked his way up again, but this time, he stopped to tease the tight little bud between her ass cheeks.

Sophie made a keening, impossible noise as everything in her pulled tight and then tighter and then tighter still. Until she collapsed a little bit beneath him, her knees simply unequal to the weight of that much dark pleasure, and felt him laugh again.

He hauled her back up, shifting against her, running his big, hard fingers over the tight little opening where his mouth had just been.

She gasped against the floor, blind with need and longing, at the edge of a dark wall, a wave, that she thought might drown her for good when it hit. But she couldn’t do anything but lie there and take it. As he made it go on and on and on.

“You take it in the ass before, Sophie?” he asked, and there was a wild thing in his voice, harder and far more ferocious than the matching one inside of her, tearing her up. “I’m guessing no.”

She couldn’t speak. She shook her head, restless and aching, and he pressed down, just hard enough to make her moan.

“Christ, baby,” he muttered darkly. “I’m gonna eat you alive.”

He shifted then. He pulled her back up so she was on her hands and knees again.

“I can’t—” she whispered.

“You can.”

He was so certain. And so she did, bracing herself on her palms, on arms that felt like spaghetti.

Ajax gathered her hair in one of his big hands and he shifted closer, and she could feel his cock then, still rock hard and entirely too big, nudging into her soaking wet folds from behind. He slid one hand down to anchor her hip, and then he thrust into her again without any ceremony, pulling back on her hair at the same time so her body instantly bowed.

Her reward was that dirty laugh of his and the way he surged into her, so deep and good she made a guttural noise she’d never heard come out of her before. She tried to meet his thrusts, but she realized in an instant that he was holding her immobile, looming up behind her like some tattooed god of sex and doing exactly what he liked with her.

She almost came again from that image alone.

“Not yet,” he told her, and his voice was different then. Darker and rougher, almost destroyed, and she felt a thrill of something like power wind through her at the sound. Maybe she wasn’t the only junkie in the room.

He groaned something she couldn’t understand and then he let go of her hair, his thrusts getting jerkier, falling out of that intense rhythm. He slid his hand around to her belly, lifting her and pulling her backward, easing her into a new position. She found herself astride him as he knelt behind her, his cock still planted deep inside of her.

And it was that easy strength of his that made her shiver like that, she thought, fighting to catch her breath again. He wrapped those hard, sculpted arms, inked and beautiful, around her. He dropped his head to her shoulder and she could feel his mouth open against her neck.

He started to move again, and when he did, he moved all of her. He thrust into her from below. He held her still above, one hand on her breast almost accidentally, except there was only sweet, hot purpose in the way he dragged his thumb over her nipple in counterpoint to those deep, wicked strokes that were tearing her apart.