7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
Tropes & Trigger Warnings
TROPES
Age gap, OTT (over the top) protective/possessive MCs, feisty defiant brat, praise kink, hurt/comfort, touch him and die
TRIGGER WARNINGS
This book contains some themes that may be distressing to readers including: descriptive sex scenes, impact play, violence (not between love interests) including one of the MCs being injured during a fight, orgasm control, mentions of death, a character being extremely sick with a respiratory virus
Chapter 1
Sweat glistens against the blue-black tattoo inked into Rex’s left forearm. It flexes with each thrust, making it harder for me to study the dumb scrolling letters—something they used before the pandemic—trying to figure out what it says as he fucks my ass.
I asked about it before, but all I get is that it’s from his time in the military. And fuck knows if he’ll ever elaborate beyond that.
Sometimes, when he doesn’t think I notice, he touches it like it means more.
Still, focusing on the words written into the skull and snake image is better than listening to him ramble about how I’m “his” or some shit again. As if his claim over me is gonna soften me somehow.
Fuck that.
Ever since I mentioned having sex with other people for food he’s been acting territorial, even though five months havepassed. Curious what he’d do if we actually came across another human. Not that we have.
But I don’t really care about bein’ with anyone. Rex is enough. Can’t deal with someone else causing all this internal chaos goin’ on inside my chest the way it does with this asshole currently pounding into me.
“Maybe next time I tell you to do something, you’ll fucking listen for once.” Rex shows no mercy as he slams in with each word, making me slide against the table.
I focus on the wall straight ahead, hiding my smirk.
It’s the same shit, different day.
Rex barks orders and I tell him to fuck off. Sometimes he lets me get away with it.
Other times, like now, he reminds me “who I belong to” with one of his big-ass hands holding my neck down, pinning me like a bug stuck under glass while his other is planted a few inches from my face.
I grunt and take it, barely listening to his latest lecture. I love pissing off the bastard, and with the way he’s growling, I must’ve pissed him off real good this time.
Or could be he’s still all worried after I fell into the freezing river yesterday.
Never seen him panic so much. And for nothing. I’m a damn good swimmer. But the bastard freaks out whenever something threatens my safety.
While I like pushing his buttons, or think he overreacts, part of me is sorta testing him, waiting to see if he’ll snap on me.
Or abandon me.
Bile rises in my throat at the thought. As much as I complain, I can’t stand being away from him too long either.
Only problem is Rex has taken to blue balling me lately as a way topunishme. He gets me hard as stone, leaking, and desperate to finish. Then doesn’t let me.
