“Please,” I beg again, the word spilling from my lips without permission.
Marco reaches for the oil on the nightstand, never removing his fingers from inside me. Like he knows I can’t bear even a heartbeat without him filling me. His cock glistens in the lamplight as he slicks himself with one hand, the other still buried deep.
When he positions himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against his fingers still inside me, I laugh—a broken sound caught between relief and desperation.
“Birdie?” he breathes.
“Nothing.” I meet his eyes, drinking in the sight of him above me—hair disheveled, pupils blown wide with want.
I don’t quite want to voice the thoughts burning through my mind—that this pain is good pain. The arena, Jason’s beating, months of violence and fear have taught me the difference. This burn, this stretch as he slowly replaces his fingers with his cock, this ischosenpain. Welcomepain.
Marco pushes himself inside, gentle but steady, and we both groan—raw, desperate sounds that bounce off the bedroom walls.
He stills. Fully seated, buried deep, and the world narrows to this single point of connection. His cock throbs inside me, each pulse matching the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat. The silk around my wrists pulls tight as I strain against the bindings, desperate to touch him, to anchor myself to something real. Tohim.
His forehead drops to mine, breath uneven against my lips. Then he lifts his head to gaze into my eyes, fingers stroking the remnants of my hair with infinite tenderness. “Te amo, birdie.”I love you, birdie.He kisses me, soft lips against mine. “Eres mi razón para vivir.”You are my reason for living.Another kiss, deeper this time. “Eres mi sol, mi mundo, mi todo.”You are my sun, my world, my everything.
“Marco…” I start, but a small thrust inside me silences whatever I was going to say, steals it and replaces it with a raspy gasp.
Then, with me trembling beneath him, already unraveling from his whispered words alone, he says, “Y ahora, voy a hacerte mío tan completamente, que seré lo único con lo que sueñes el resto de tu vida.”And now, I'm going to claim you so thoroughly, I will be all you dream about for the rest of your life.
He moves. Not softly. Not gently. Exactly how I need—strong, powerful thrusts that drive the breath from my lungs and set every inch of me ablaze. His hips snap forward with controlled violence, each stroke nailing that spot inside me until I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Yes,” I choke out, back arching. “Fucking hell, yes— Marco—”
His hand, slick with oil, closes around my cock, matching the brutal rhythm of his hips. The dual sensation threatens to shatter me completely. The silk restraints cut into my wrists as I pull against them, desperate for something to hold on to as he takes me apart.
Marco’s pace increases, relentless now. His cock fills me completely with each thrust, stretching me open, claiming every inch. The hand on my cock moves faster, thumb swiping over the head with glorious pressure.
My world is only this—his weight above me, the burn of his cock inside me, the silk holding me helpless. Nothing exists beyond this room, this bed, the feeling of being utterly possessed. Everything else fades away, unimportant.
There’s only Marco, only this, only the exquisite torture of being fucked within an inch of my life while bound and helpless beneath him.
His breathing becomes ragged, movements more erratic. He’s close. His hand on my cock becomes merciless, stroking with punishing intensity that has me writhing beneath him.
“Come for me,” he growls against my ear. “Let me feel you—”
His pace on my cock increases to levels that blur the line between pleasure and pain, and I’m drowning in sensation, lost somewhere between ecstasy and oblivion.
“Please,” I gasp, the word torn from somewhere deep inside me. “Please, Marco, I can’t— I can’t bear it like this. Untie me.”
My wrists burn where the silk bites into them, but that’s not the agony I’m talking about. It’s the desperate need to touch him, to hold him while he destroys me so completely.
“Please,” I beg again, voice breaking. “It’s all I want. Don’t deny me this. You said you’d never deny me anything.”
His rhythm falters, dark eyes searching my face. Something in my expression must convince him, because he reaches up, fingers working at the silk knots. The ties fall away, and blood rushes back into my hands with painful intensity.
I don’t pause to savor my freedom.
My hands slam into his chest, shoving him sideways before he can process what’s happening. His cock slips from me with a wet sound that makes us both groan, and I follow the momentum, rolling him onto his side.
I snatch up the tiny oil bottle, hands shaking so badly I dump half of it onto my fingers. Too much. Don’t care.
“What areyou—”
I press two fingers against his entrance, and Marco’s protest dies in his throat as I push inside.
“Shh.” I nip at the flesh of his shoulder. “You didn’t really think you were going to get away with that, did you?”
