Spit spills past the edges of my lips, and fresh tears race down my cheeks now, part from the strain and part from the release.He twitches in my mouth, groaning again, and I’ve never felt more powerful.
“That’s it. Suck my cock, Little Rabbit. Do as you’re told, like the weak, desperate little thing you are. And when you come, you think of me destroying you. You think of my fat cock choking you,” Santos pants.
My fingers work faster, desperation claiming me like a wave, lapping against my burning skin. I want to come just like this—with this man’s cock down my throat, his hateful words filling my ears.
Even though I feel my orgasm beginning to crest, it’s still not enough. So, with what little strength I have, I pull my mouth off him. He growls, his fingers pulling at my hair, and I yelp, panting as I look up at him.
I’m no doubt a pathetic sight.
“Show me how much you hate me and make. Me. Choke.”
His eyes flash with understanding. He reaches his free hand out, wrapping it around my neck as his other slams my head onto his dick with a force reserved only for your worst enemy. I nearly weep as relief burns low in my belly.
His fingers squeeze tighter and tighter with each thrust, and finally, I feel the edges of my mind begin to blur.
“Fuck,” he shouts and I do all I can to simply hold on to him as he pounds into my mouth, my mind growing fuzzy as I get closer to unconsciousness. “I’m going to come, you dirty fucking slut.” Through hazy eyes, I watch his chiseled jaw go slack, and then, as if forgetting himself, he whispers almost reverently, “You’re going to make me come, baby.” As stars fill the edges of my vision, he does, the first rope of it hitting my tongue. He grinds his hips against me, and I do what I can to inhale the deep musky scent of him as his cum pumps down my throat in scalding ribbons. His hips buck again, and I have to fight the urge to gag.
I moan as he softens in my mouth—it tastes like victory.
The adrenaline of victory and near suffocation are enough to push me over. I silently scream around his cock, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, and his hand instantly loosens around my throat. The orgasm rips through me with such intensity, my back bows. I quiver from head to toe, my core pulsing with a insatiable need to be filled, even as release washes over me.
Finally, he slips from my mouth, and I fight for breath, my shoulders shaking, my eyes dotting as I blink rapidly. I try to calm my racing heart.
Once I’ve regained my breath and my gaze is no longer covered in dark dots, I move to stand. Warm, callused hands wrap around my biceps, hoisting me up with a gentleness that seems foreign with how he just wrecked me.
Santos leans forward, brushing the dirt and hay from my knees, taking extra care to pick any embedded pieces out of the creases, before standing up tall again, his fingers slowly tracing the curve of my hip.
He stares at me, no signs of the mask or the hatred just burning in his eyes to be seen. I’m met only with a look of confusion and the smallest, most mischievous grin that only makes me want to crawl on my knees and do it again.
Santos reaches out his thumb, tracing it along my bottom lip, tugging it slightly as he goes. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know what we did, Little Rabbit.”
Out of words and afraid of the feelings that seem far too real building in my chest, I turn to flee.
My eyes instantly land on McCrae standing in the entrance of the barn. His knuckles are white against his bices, ticking jaw equally pale. For a split second, terror and regret consume me.
But then, he refuses to meet my eye, and something in me withers and dies. I know in my heart, McCrae and I will never bethe same—there’ll never be any ending for us, if there ever even was a beginning.
I lift my head, flicking my hair over my shoulder. As I walk past him, I lift my thumb to the corner of my mouth, wiping away an imaginary bead of cum.
TWENTY-FOUR
RAFAEL SANTOS
October 31st, 2025
I hate myself.I hate that I’m lonely, and stupid, and weak. I was almost caught tonight—why?Because I couldn’t stay away. And what’s fucking worse, I feel guilty for leaving Valentina standing alone in the crowd.
I shouldn’t feel this way. I can’t afford to feel guilt when it comes to my enemies. Marco wouldn’t.
But my mother would.She was always compassionate, always encouraging us to imagine another person’s hardships instead of assuming the worst. She was sunshine and pure love to her core. My father thought she was weak; Marco and Javier did too.
Not me. I thought she was perfect.
But she’s dead—they all are.And it’s all her fault.
Renewed in my disdain for Valentina Reyes, I resume pushing McCrae’s bike toward the barn, only a sliver of light from within to guide me. I push toward it, picturing each of their faces, ashen and lifeless, Jose only a faded mystery, his death still unknown to me.
I thought for a second I could begin to heal, and then, I did the unthinkable. I kissed her. I fucking kissed the enemy, spitting on my family’s graves.
