Kneel

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Seraphina's POV

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His lips lingered on my forehead like a brand. Soft. Almost tender.

"This isn't over," he said. "We're just getting started."

The words slithered through my brain like smoke, curling around my thoughts, choking out reason. My body was still humming from the orgasm he'd ripped from me—the first real one I'd ever had.

My thighs were slick with my own wetness, cooling against my skin. My pantyhose were ruined, torn open at the crotch where his fingers had been.

I should leave.

I should run.

But my feet were rooted to the floor. My cunt was still throbbing, still aching, still desperate for more. I'd never felt anything like this before. Never knew my body could want like this.

Damian's chest was still heaving. His cock was still hard—I could see it straining, thick and demanding. He'd just come. Just spilled his seed all over my thighs. And he was still hard.

Fuck.

He reached for me again, his hand cupping my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. Those ice blue eyes were dark now. Hungry. Predatory.

"You're still here," he murmured. "I thought you'd run."

I should have.

"I don't run," I lied.

His smile was slow. Knowing. "Liar."

His thumb traced my lower lip, pressing gently. "Open."

I parted my lips without thinking. His thumb slipped inside, and I tasted myself on his skin—salty and sweet and obscene.

"Look at you," he breathed. "So obedient. So fucking perfect."

The praise sent a jolt straight to my clit. I'd never thought of myself as obedient. I was stubborn, defiant, determined to prove everyone wrong. But with him, submission felt like power. Like I was giving him something precious.

Like he was worthy of it.

His thumb withdrew, and he stepped back. Just one step. But it was enough to break the spell.

"On your knees," he said.

The command was quiet. Calm. Utterly certain.

I should have refused. Should have slapped him, spit in his face, walked away.

Instead, I dropped to my knees.

The concrete was cold and rough against my bare skin. My torn pantyhose did nothing to protect me. But I didn't care. All I could see was him. All I could focus on was the bulge of his cock.

I'd imagined it inside me. Imagined it stretching me open, filling me completely. But I hadn't experienced it.

Now I would.

Damian looked down at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, something flickered across his face—shock, maybe. Like he hadn't actually expected me to obey.

Then the shock was replaced by something else. Something darker.

"Good girl," he murmured.

He reached down, stroking his throbbing. His cock sprang free, and I had to bite back a gasp.

Fuck.

The head was slick with precum, glistening in the dim light. Veins bulged along the shaft. He was so hard it looked almost painful.

"Open your mouth," he said. "Wider."

I obeyed.

His hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back. The other hand guided his cock to my lips. I could smell him now—musky and masculine and utterly intoxicating.

"Tongue out."

I stuck out my tongue. He pressed the head against it, smearing precum across my taste buds. The flavor was bitter and salty, but I didn't pull away. I wanted more.

"So pretty," he breathed. "So fucking pretty with my cock against your lips."

Then he pushed inside.

Just the head at first. I gagged slightly, my throat constricting around the invasion. He held still, letting me adjust.

"Breathe through your nose," he instructed. "Relax your throat."

I tried. I really did. But my eyes were watering, and I could feel drool starting to leak from the corners of my mouth.

"That's it," he murmured. "Take it. Take all of it."

He pushed deeper.

I felt him at the back of my throat. Felt my body rebel against the intrusion. But I forced myself to relax, to breathe, to take him.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Your mouth is so tight. So wet."

He pulled out slightly, then pushed back in. Establishing a rhythm. Shallow at first, then deeper. My throat was burning, but I didn't want him to stop. I wanted him to use me. To take what he needed.

His grip on my hair tightened. "Look at me."

I looked up. His face was twisted with pleasure, his jaw slack, his eyes dark and hungry.

"You love this, don't you?" he asked. "Love being on your knees for me."

I couldn't answer. My mouth was full.

But he didn't need an answer. He could see it in my eyes. Could feel it in the way my throat relaxed around him.

"Fuck," he groaned again. "I'm going to come."

I expected him to pull out. To spill on my face or my chest—that's what guys did in the p**n I'd secretly watched. But he didn't.

He held my head in place and thrust deep into my throat.

I gagged. Tears streamed down my cheeks. But I didn't push him away.

"I'm coming," he growled. "Take it. Swallow it all."

His cock pulsed, and I felt hot liquid hit the back of my throat. Bitter. Thick. I tried to swallow, but there was too much. It dripped out of my mouth, down my chin, onto my chest.

He held me there until he was done. Then he pulled out slowly, his cock still half-hard, glistening with spit and cum.

I gasped for air, coughing, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Damian was looking down at me with something like reverence.

"Look at you," he said softly. "Covered in me. Perfect."

I wanted to be offended. Wanted to be disgusted.

Instead, I felt a surge of pride. I'd taken all of him. Swallowed everything he'd given me. I'd been good.

"Get up," he said. "I'm not done with you."

He hauled me to my feet, spinning me around before I could react. My hands slapped against the cold wall. The torn fabric of my pantyhose did nothing to cover my bare ass.

"Bend over," he ordered. "Hands against the wall."

I obeyed.

I could feel his gaze on me. Hot. Possessive. He was taking in the curve of my hips, the wetness still glistening between my thighs.

I heard him spit. Felt his hand between my legs, coating his cock with my wetness and his own saliva.

"Naughty girl," he murmured. "Walking around without underwear. Were you hoping someone would see? Hoping someone would fuck you?"

"No," I gasped. "I just—"

"Liar."

His hand came down on my ass. Hard. The slap echoed through the empty hallway.

I cried out.

"You're soaked," he said. "So wet for me. I can smell you from here."

Another slap. This time on the other cheek.

"Please," I whimpered. "Please, Damian—"

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me."

He laughed. "Greedy girl."

I felt the head of his cock press against my entrance. Not pushing. Just waiting.

"Tell me you want it," he said.

"I want it."

"Tell me you need it."

"I need it. I need you inside me. Please—"

He shoved inside me in one brutal thrust.

I screamed.

He was bigger than I thought. Thicker. He was splitting me open, filling me completely, and I could feel myself stretching around him. The pain was sharp and immediate—a burning sensation that made my eyes water.

"Shhh," he murmured, clamping his hand over my mouth. "Don't make a sound."

I tried to obey. Tried to muffle my screams against his palm. But he was so big, and the pressure was so intense—

He pulled out, then slammed back in. Harder. Deeper.

"You're so tight," he groaned. "So fucking tight. I can feel you squeezing me."

I was crying now. Tears streaming down my cheeks. But I wasn't crying because it hurt. I was crying because it felt so fucking good. Because every nerve in my body was on fire. Because I'd never felt so alive.

"Look at you," he breathed. "Taking my cock like you were made for it. Like you were made for me."

His rhythm was brutal. Unrelenting. He was pounding into me with a desperation that bordered on violence. Each thrust pushed me against the wall, my breasts pressing against the cold concrete.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked. "Is this what you needed?"

"Yes," I sobbed against his hand. "Yes, yes, yes—"

"Fuck," he groaned. "I can feel you getting tighter. Are you going to come for me?"

I nodded frantically.

"Then come," he ordered. "Come on my cock."

It hit me like a wave. Like a freight train. My orgasm ripped through me, violent and overwhelming, and I screamed against his palm. My cunt clenched around him, milking him, pulling him deeper.

"Fuckkkk," I screamed as my body spasms.

"That's it," he growled. "That's it. Fuck, Seraphina—"

He moved inside and out faster now, harder. His groan became louder. I felt his cock get warmer in my soaking pussy.

"Sera—"

He barely managed to grunt my name. His hands moved through my waist, found my inner tigh. Without restraint his fingers found my clit and stroked them desperately.

"Damian I can’t-"

"Shhh," he quickly shut me up like I was distracting him, he pounded harder.

"Fuck I’m coming, I’m coming-"

He came inside me. I felt his cock pulse, felt hot liquid fill me, felt the warmth spread through my belly. He kept thrusting, drawing out every last drop, and I kept clenching, taking everything he gave me.

When it was over, he collapsed against me. His forehead pressed against my shoulder blade. His breath was hot on my skin.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Fuck."

I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't think.

He pulled out slowly, and I felt his cum start to drip down my thighs. The sensation was obscene. Degrading. And I loved every second of it.

"Turn around," he said.

I turned.

He was looking at my face. At my tear-streaked cheeks. At the sweat on my brow.

And then his gaze dropped. Down my body. To the blood on my thighs.

His eyes widened.

He stepped back. Just one step. His gaze was still on the blood on my thighs. For a moment, I thought I saw something like regret cross his face.

Then it was gone.

"Fuck," he breathed. "You're—"

"A virgin," I said flatly. "Surprised?"

"I should have been gentler."

I laughed. A broken, unhinged sound. "You think I wanted gentle?"

He stared at me. I stared back. The air between us was thick with something I couldn't name—not just lust, not just obsession. Something else. Something that felt dangerously like understanding.

Then I broke the moment. I couldn't let him see too much. Couldn't let him get too close.

I reached down, grabbed my ruined skirt, and started walking toward my locker.

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