10: A Proper Dessert

Briar's POV 

I blinked at him, still trying to catch up with the way the conversation had shifted.

“Dessert?” I repeated. 

His gaze dropped, not bothering to pretend he didn’t know precisely how exposed I was. 

“I can smell your arousal.” 

Heat rushed to my face. “That’s not—” I stopped myself, then shook my head. “I’m fine. I don’t need anything.”

I tried to move, instinctively pushing against his chest so I could slide off his thighs, but his hands closed around my waist without effort, firm enough to make the attempt useless.

“Stay,” he said.

“I’m okay,” I repeated, more hurried now. “Really. I can go back to my room—”

“No,” he interrupted. “You won’t.”

I twisted again, more out of panic than defiance, and that only seemed to amuse him. His grip tightened just enough to remind me who was in control.

“I don’t leave things half-finished. I need to take care of it for you.”

“I don’t need you to take care of anything,” I said, my voice betraying me despite my effort to steady it.

He ignored that entirely.

In one smooth motion, he lifted me, the sudden lack of ground making my breath hitch, and set me down on the table in front of him. The dishes were already pushed aside, leaving cool polished wood beneath my palms as I braced myself.

He positioned me so my legs were stretched out toward him, my knees slightly bent.

“There.” 

He shoved my thighs apart with his hands. The wood was cool against my heated skin, but it did nothing to quell the fire igniting low in my belly. I pushed at his shoulders, palms flat against the hard planes of his chest, but it was like shoving a wall. 

“Azarel, wait—'

He didn't. His hands gripped the waistband of my panties, yanking them down in one swift motion, exposing my dripping folds to the air. 

Coolness hit my swollen clit, making me gasp, but before I could clamp my legs shut, his broad shoulders wedged between them, forcing me wide open. His eyes locked on my pussy, dark and feral, pupils blown wide with something unhinged. 

“Look at this mess. All for me.”

Then his mouth was on me. Hot and demanding, his tongue flattens against my slit in a long, slow lick from entrance to clit. 

I cried out, the sound echoing in the large hall. He groaned into me, the vibration sending shocks up my spine, and dove in deeper, lips sealing around my clit to suck hard. 

My hands fisted in his hair, tugging, not sure if I wanted to pull him away or hold him there as pleasure and pain ripped through me.

He ate me like a starving man, tongue thrusting into my hole, lapping up the juices that leaked out with every flick. 

Slurping sounds filled the hall, wet and obscene, his mouth working relentlessly. He sucked my clit between his teeth, nipping just enough to make me buck off the table, then soothed it with broad swipes, circling the nub until my thighs quivered around his head. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he muttered against my skin, the words muffled as he buried his face deeper and ground his nose into my mound.

I thrashed, back arching, but he pinned my hips down with one massive hand, and I'm sure his fingers had bruised my flesh. 

His other hand slid up my blouse, shoving it over my breasts to expose them to the air. He pinched a nipple hard, twisting as his tongue plunged inside me again, fucking my pussy with wet, rhythmic thrusts. 

The dual assault shattered me, and waves of heat were building fast, coiling tight in my core. 

“Oh fuck, Azrael!” My moans turned loud and desperate, as my body betrayed me completely.

The first orgasm hit like a freight train, my walls clenching around nothing as I gushed against his mouth. 

He didn't stop, drinking it down, tongue lashing my clit through the spasms until I was sobbing, oversensitive and shaking. 

But he kept going, sucking harder, fingers joining in to spread my lips wide, exposing every inch for his assault. He added two thick digits, curling them inside me to hit that spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids, pumping in and out while his lips tugged at my clit.

I came again, harder, my screams raw as my pussy squirted, soaking his chin and the table beneath me. Juices dripped down his jaw, but he lapped them up greedily, humming approval. 

“That's it, give me more,” he demanded, voice hoarse, his free hand now choking my thigh to hold me still as I writhed. 

The third climax built slowly and torturously, with his unyielding pace. There was tongue flicking, fingers scissoring, and mouth devouring. 

My vision blurred, and my body convulsed as I shattered once more, cum flooding his tongue in hot pulses.

He didn't relent until I went limp, spent and trembling, my pussy twitching with aftershocks, raw and swollen from his attention. 

Only then did he pull back, lips glistening with my release, eyes wild and unfocused. He stared at me like I was his to ruin and claim. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing ragged, cock tenting his sweatpants painfully.

Before I could catch my breath, he grabbed my waist, yanking me off the table and into his lap as he dropped back into the chair. 

My bare ass hit his thighs, slick skin sliding against the fabric, and he crushed me against him. His mouth crashed onto mine in a dark, possessive kiss, tongue forcing past my lips to share the taste of my own cum. 

It was brutal, all teeth and dominance, his hand wrapping around my throat in a firm choke—not enough to cut air, but enough to make my head spin, to remind me who held the power. 

He squeezed, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss, growling into my mouth as his hips ground up, his hard cock pressing insistently against my oversensitive folds.

I melted into it, hands clutching his shoulders, lost in the haze of his claim.