Chapter 165: Sex with a criminal r18

NOAH

He pulled off just as I teetered on the edge, pumping my dick with his hand instead. I came hard, spurting over his cheek, lips, chin in thick ropes, my body shuddering as I cried out.

Mortification hit me instantly, “Oh my god, I’m sorry—” I tried to sit up, face burning.

Cassian just wiped the cum off his face with his thumb, licked it clean, eyes never leaving mine. He smirked, satisfied.

“We’re not done,” he said, hand still stroking my sensitive cock. I protested, “Wait, I just, I can’t—” oversensitive, trying to squirm away, but he pinned me with a hand on my hip. “You can. And you will.”

He took me back into his mouth, slower this time, deeper, throat relaxing around me. It was borderline painful at first, but he didn’t care, sucking relentlessly, working me through the overstimulation until pleasure built again. I writhed, hands fisting in his hair, not knowing if I was pulling him closer or pushing away. “Cassian—I’m—again—”

He took me deeper, swallowing around me, and I came down his throat, less volume but just as intense. He swallowed everything, pulling off slowly, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk.

I stared, couldn’t believe he’d swallowed. “You… you didn’t have to…”

“Didn’t have to what?” he asked, knowing damn well.

“Swallow. You didn’t have to swallow.” My face was on fire.

He kissed me then, letting me taste myself on his tongue. “I wanted to.”

“But… why?” I didn’t understand.

“Because you’re mine.” Said simply, matter-of-fact. “And I take what’s mine.”

He kissed back up my body, stopping at my stomach to bite gently, then sucking harder on my nipples, teeth scraping, leaving them even more swollen.

I arched, moaning as he marked my chest with red blooms, hickeys that would last days.

Up to my neck, finding that sensitive spot, sucking hard, definitely leaving a mark.

“Cassian, you’re leaving marks—”

“Good.” He bit down harder. “Want everyone to know.” He continued, aiming for my lips next.

Every touch felt like it was erasing Alex, the drugged, violating hands replaced by Cassian’s consensual, wanted claim. Relief stung my eyes, not from pain but from the way he reclaimed my body, making me feel clean again.

Cassian broke the kiss, breathing hard. “I need to fuck you.” Voice strained.

“Oh. Right. That.” The nervousness returned as I chuckled to myself.

“I’ve been patient.” He ground his still-clothed erection against me. “But I’m done waiting.”

He stood and yanked his office shirt open, buttons straining as fabric parted, and my attention snapped to him like a reflex I couldn’t control.

His hair fell into his forehead, disheveled and sinful, his body revealed inch by inch until there was nothing left to hide.

I felt like I truly saw his body for the first time.

Tattoos bled across his skin… dark, deliberate, made to be touched.

Barbed wire wrapped his upper arm like a promise and a threat, drawing my eyes to the flex of muscle beneath it.

A crown sat just below his collarbone, subtle but arrogant, like it knew it belonged there.

A panther stretched along his ribs, sleek and lethal, its body moving when he breathed, when he shifted, like it might leap right off his skin and tear into me.

My eyes dragged lower, catching on a clock inked near his hip, empty of hands, and I swallowed hard. The dots on his hand drew me in when he moved, when his fingers curled, and I couldn’t stop thinking about them on my skin.

When he turned, just slightly, I caught sight of a single teardrop inked behind his ear, and something hot and reckless twisted low in my stomach.

The scars and his bandage mixed in, served as evidences of violence, making him more deadly, more devastatingly hot.

I’m about to have sex with a criminal. A murderer. And I want it. What is wrong with me?

He opened the nightstand, pulled out lube, set it on the bed. Returned, kneeling between my legs, hands on my knees.

“Spread for me.”

Embarrassed, vulnerable, I slowly opened my legs. “Wider.” He pushed my thighs apart himself, exposing me completely.

He poured lube on his hand, warming it. I watched nervously as his finger circled my hole, not pushing in yet, just teasing. His other hand on my chin, turning my face.

“Look at me.”

Our gaze locked as he pushed in, the first finger sliding slow, the stretch strange, foreign.

My breath hitched.

“Relax. Breathe.”

He watched my every reaction, moving the finger slow, letting me adjust. “How does it feel? This isn’t your first time afterall.”

“Weird. Not… bad. Just weird.”

He added a second, the burn intensifying. I winced. “You’re doing good.” He kissed my knee. “Just a little more.”

His fingers curled, rubbing against something inside and my eyes went wide.

“Oh, fuck—” I felt the familiar electric pleasure, different from anything.

“Found it.” He rubbed harder.

I moaned loudly, hips jerking, dick leaking again. He rubbed relentlessly, watching me fall apart. “You like that?”

I nodded frantically, pleasure building. “Please—”

I came again untouched, just from his fingers, crying out as spurts hit my stomach. He worked me through it, not stopping.

Added a third finger while I was still sensitive, the stretch sharper. “Ah—wait—” I squirmed. “It’s too much—”

“You can take it.” Pushing deeper. “You need to be ready.”

He scissored, stretching me wider, thorough and patient. I breathed through it, relaxing gradually. He pulled out.

“You’re ready.”

I looked down at his bulge. “I don’t think I am.”

He stood, unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down. His dick sprang free, long, reaching past his navel; thick, intimidating girth; flushed pink, angry red at the tip; prominent veins running along the shaft; swollen head leaking pre-cum.

Scary, beautiful, impossible.

Seriously how did I fit that in my mouth? There’s no way that’s going inside me. I’m going to die.

Cassian noticed my fear. “Don’t be scared.” He smirked.

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to take it.”

He climbed back, “I’ll be gentle.”

I highly doubt that. I didn’t say it, just swallowed nervously.

He lubed his dick generously, slick and shiny, stroking himself. I watched, mesmerized and terrified.

Positioning, pulling my hips closer, lining up.

I grabbed a pillow, covering my face. “Noah. Put the pillow down.” He reached for it.

“No!” I held tighter, muffled.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

His hands were on my thighs, pushing wider, almost to my chest. I felt exposed, vulnerable. His weight leaned forward, pinning me. The pressure of his dick pressed against my hole but he wasn’t pushing yet.

Then came the actual push… the head of his cock breaching and immediately stretching me out. I felt a sharp burn that was overwhelming. I gasped, my body tensing as my knuckles turned white on the pillow.

He paused, just the tip inside, letting me adjust. The fullness from just the head already made me stuffed.

How is there more?

Cassian kept pushing in, slowly and relentlessly, inch by thick, every inch burning.

The stretch was brutal, my hole resisting at first, then yielding with a sharp sting that made my breath hitch. I jerked away instinctively, hips twisting to the side, trying to escape the impossible pressure.

His hands clamped down on my hips like iron, yanking me back onto his cock. The sudden pull forced another inch deeper, and I gasped, legs kicking uselessly against the sheets.

“Stay still,” he ordered, his voice low and unyielding. There was no anger in it, no pleading, just absolute command.

I tried to obey, but my body wasn’t listening. Every time he advanced, my muscles clenched, trying to push him out. He pulled back slightly, only an inch, then thrust forward again, deeper this time, claiming more territory.

The rhythm was mercilessly patient: withdraw, advance, withdraw, advance.

Each push stretched me wider, filled me fuller, until I felt like I was being split open from the inside.

I couldn’t see him, still hiding under the pillow like a coward, but I could feel every inch of him. The heat. The thickness. The way his cock pulsed inside me, alive and demanding. My own dick lay forgotten against my stomach, leaking steadily, untouched and aching.

Then he stopped.

Completely still.

Buried so deep I could feel him in my guts.

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