I pull. Love the shape of his ass ring around the handle as I do.
Rory rolls out from under me. I let him. He’s crouched, on his knees, glaring like a feral animal—his monster cock iron-hard and promising violence. “Felt safer when I was just trying to bang her. Now? Now it’s like there’s a damn hurricane under my ribs every time she so much as sighs.”
I press my lips into a smile and eye the handle with the brown smears on it. I don’t break the silence, the moment. Let him get it out for once in his miserable life.
Rory’s lip curls up in a silent, threatening snarl. “You think I like this shit? I hate it. But I’d gut a man twice my size like I do my kills. I’d make it last. Skin him, strip him, rip out his intestines—all that if it meant she’d open her eyes again. So aye, congratulations, ye wrung it out of me, lumber-dick—Rory thesociopath’s got a goddamn heart.” He snorts. “It’s a sick heart. Black as fuck. But guess I got me a heart. Ye happy now, Dopey?”
I grin. “Extremely, Grumpy.”
“Good, because I’m not done with ye.”
I get in position. He spits on my hole and digs himself in, rocking and riding me like a rodeo. Fuck, it hurts like hell. Especially with his King’s Crown piercings tearing into me, metal studs scraping my insides, dragging nerve endings raw with every brutal thrust.
“Take it, you lumberjackarse, you little sumbitch.”
He fucks like he’s furious—all muscle, all pain, ramming and grinding like a beast. I take it. I want it because I’m hard as my axe, and the hurt makes it real.
We won’t forget this night.
That ring of steel around his tip? It punishes, each stud catching flesh and dragging it out of place. Stretching my hole beyond compare. Up till now, it’s been slow. A steady slide with globs of lube. Never in all the way. I’ve only ever taken half his cock.
Now, he pounds into me like a jackhammer, then rolls us, still buried, still moving, still fucking destroying me from the inside.
Arrogance fills me, remembering how he couldn’t even handle one piercing without screaming. Not even with Jude and his expert hands applying them.
Jude’s got the full Jacob’s Ladder, magic cross, and a frenum for fucks sake. Reverse Prince Albert for me.
Pain’s a prayer. I’m a cathedral.
Rory grabs my hair, yanks me back, his hand strangling my shaft, fingers flexing over every embedded barbell like he’s trying to tear them out through the skin. I grunt, deep and guttural, every nerve blistering.
His teeth tear into my throat. Our mouths meet, mauling, biting, teeth clashing. I bleed into his mouth.
We don’t fuck to feel good.
We fuck to feel alive.
50
Briella
IF HE DIES, I WON’T JUST BE HEARTBROKEN. I’LL BE UNMADE.
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“Without You”
“Bulletproof”
“You Are Enough”
When I stir awake, it’s still dark outside.
There’s the digital clock on the bedside table. It’s 4 AM, but I’m wide awake. I’m in the main bedroom at the big cabin. And the room seems to be empty until I hear the heavy breathing on my other side.
Soft warmth rolls through me at the sight of Jude sitting in a leather chair, fast asleep at my bedside. How long has he been there? How long have I been asleep? The last thing I remember was being trussed up like prey, pain from the switches, multiple mind-blowing orgasms from the vibrator clamps, the big gamble, and then…I blacked out.
I also remember when Raphael fucked me against the tree. And something happened in those moments. Something I can’t quite describe.
