Page 21 of Bent, Not Broken

He shook his dick at me. He’d shrunk some, but not much. I reached out and kept an eye on his hands to make sure he wasn’t about to slap me again for handling myself, but he allowed me to get a grip on his dick. I let out a breath. Soft, silky skin over steel. The faint taste of cum was already in my mouth. I wanted him so bad it was stupid, and this was stupid, so I guessed that was okay.

He reached out and tapped his hand lightly over my cheek. The touch stung. I probably had a red palm print there already.

“Can’t believe you came back for this. Can’t believe you’d stay after what I just did. Are you that much of a whore for cock?”

The way he sounded so sure that I was every inch the needy manslut he imagined made me moan. There was no reason for me to actually answer him. I was here, so he knew he was right anyway. He pulled a bottle of lube out of a pocket of his jeans and then shoved them, along with his boxers, down to his knees. He turned and sank onto the couch cushions, spreading his legs as much as he could to give himself room.

“Make me feel good or get the fuck out.”

I stared. He was a giant of a man, and the couch that had seemed large when I was on it looked average underneath him. No one had ever, in my entire life, talked to me like I was dirt. His imperious tone, the way he expected me to serve him—all that stuff should have combined to be a huge turnoff. I hated men who were snotty, but snobbery was fake confidence that came from being jealous of me. He really fucking felt this good about himself, really thought I was so far beneath him that he should stomp me into the ground. Maybe he didn’t care if I left. Nearly every man who liked to fuck men wanted me, that was a thing I knew about myself, but maybe he didn’t? I loved the challenge and the uncertainty. It made my stomach wobble with a real fear I’d rarely ever encountered.

Panting shaky breaths, I extended my hand and he held the lube out. I curled my fingers around the tube and pried it from his grip. He moaned, a soft, barely there sound, as he finally let go. I popped the top open and squeezed out a large dollop to slick my palm. He stared as I tossed the tube away and heard it skitter somewhere across the floor. I really hoped I didn’t need more. If the look on his face was right, he wouldn’t allow me to search for it later. I bent down to smooth the gel over his wood. He was so warm, my hand felt singed. I expected steam to rise from him. Slater studied my face the whole time I methodically worked, and I found some of my own confidence returning.

I grinned and rested my dry hand on his shoulder. He shifted impatiently as I reached behind myself to give my asshole the world’s fastest prep, which was stupid too, because he was big. This afternoon my muscles weren’t loose from being drunk and fucked-up. Oh well, I wanted him, and I wanted this—now.

The extra lube I should have taken the time to pump into myself got wiped on my own thigh, and I climbed onto his lap. His muscular thighs pressed on the insides of mine, spreading me wider. I gasped, and his lips twitched toward an evil smile. Grasping his shoulders for support, our embrace was almost intimate. He let me hold him, but I could tell he didn’t like me touching him this way. He rested his arms out along the back of the couch and gave me a dirty-boy half-lidded glare.

“Come on. Fuck yourself, Polunin.” His smile solidified into an expression that was more hate than anything.

My hand shook as I reached behind myself. He was thick and easy to hold. I tilted him toward me and tried to breathe out to loosen my nerves and my asshole, but it was difficult with him staring directly into my face. He didn’t look away, and I refused to allow myself to do the same. The challenge was half the fun.

The moment he breached me, something raw passed over his face. The answering pang that swam around in my chest, combined with the pressure and slight burn in my asshole, had me feeling shy. Swallowing hard, I stared at his chest as I worked myself down onto his thick shaft in total silence. He could win this one. I wasn’t able to handle his heavy gaze right now. I had trouble catching my breath. When I was seated on his lap, stretched and so full I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. It would have been a nearly sweet moment, except he cracked my ass so hard it brought tears to my eyes. I squeezed on him, and he arched as I did, grunting in surprise. The movement nudged him solidly against my prostate and had me shivering and whimpering.

“Work my dick. Now,” he whispered against my lips. “Unless this is the best you can do?” For the first time since I got here, anger pelted around in my guts. Did he really think I needed to prove myself to him? I’d already made him come once, and… who cared what he thought anyway?

But I wanted him impressed with me.

The strange anxiety of not being good enough rose to fill my belly as I stretched my leg muscles up and sank back down onto him. My breath caught as he glided into my body and pegged against my prostate, a bullseye on the first try. I tightened up on him, and he panted out another pleased sound.

“Oh, you love it, you slutty fuck,” Slater whispered, but he rubbed a thumb over my cheek, still warm from his strike, almost like the idea of me lusting after him was a good thing. A burst of energy came over me. I rocked my hips and then got a good grip on his shoulders and rode him like I was at a rodeo, searching for more of those electric pulses that warmed me up from the inside. His eyes went wide and he moaned, dropping his head back against the couch.

My eyes closed, and I slid a hand down my stomach to tug myself, but he smacked my ass hard enough that I thought maybe there would be a bruise this time. White lights danced behind my eyelids and my dick twitched. I gasped and fucked faster. That had really goddamned hurt. I fumbled to hold on to him as he pounded my happy spot, and I shook each time he landed just right inside my ass.

“Don’t fucking touch yourself. I’m not—” He let out a growl and bucked up off the couch to plow deeper into me. “—gay. Don’t wanna see that shit.”

After that, he was done letting me do all the work. He grasped my hips and fucked upward like he sat on a spring. I moved in time with him, gyrating against his dick, and all too soon I was rocking forward and straining to rub against his stomach because I was almost there. He rolled his abs and helped me get friction.

For someone not gay, he had a really good idea of what I needed to get off. Soon he was smashing his dick against my prostate so fast—hammering me—that all I could do was rest my forehead against his jaw and wrap my arms around his neck to hold on. My dick was in heaven between our bellies; the tip teased and rubbed against his hard muscles with every thrust.

I was a goner. I gasped and gripped him tight in my ass, squeezing around him for all I was worth to try to bring him off with me, but I lost control of my body when he power-fucked into me with more force than he had before. Feverish excitement thrilled through my groin and stomach and ass, insane rushes and tingles, and then blasted out through me. My balls pulsed. Wet heat—thick spurts of my cum—splashed our stomachs. I spasmed in his arms.

“Oh fuck, how is that so fucking hot?” he whispered into my ear, and I wanted to say something smartass back, but couldn’t because I was too busy twitching and feeling blissed-out. He gripped my ass too hard and fucked into me, tilting his hips. I cried out as he caught my already sensitive prostate and another small spurt of cum shot from me to glaze his stomach.

“Fuck,” he swore and pulled my hips down with all his might while he ground his groin against my ass. I’d never been dicked so deep. My mouth hung open. I was stuffed so full, and it didn’t hurt, but him so far in me was a stretch. I shuddered and tried to grasp his shoulders. Wiggled where I was impaled. He let out a deep moan and pressed his temple against my shoulder while he shivered.

He felt so good in me, nestled close, that I allowed myself to sort of slouch against his warmth and body heat and float for a second. Bone-tiredness leeched through my body. After last night, and coming so hard right now, I wanted to snuggle in right here and sleep. I nudged my nose against the soft skin of his neck. He smelled like cologne and sweat and man, and I loved it. He grunted and pushed me off his lap. Him sliding out of me so fast actually hurt. Again. We would need to address this before the next interlude. I gaped as I landed on my side on the couch, and he stood up smoothly. I wasn’t sure where he was going, but he hoisted his pants and left the room. I heard a door shut somewhere in the hallway.

My stomach dropped and I swore under my breath at the way I felt needy and like I wanted a fucking hug. God, had I tried to cuddle him? Was I insane? He didn’t come back, and I took that as my cue. My body ached and my cheek stung, actually, three of my cheeks stung, both sides of my ass and the left side of my face.

I wanted to leave, but I refused to run and be a coward. I would wait for him to come back. My eyelids were heavy. Then I yawned. Where was he? I sat down and curled myself up in the corner of the couch because, damn it, I was tired from coming, even though that didn’t usually happen to me. If he wanted to fucking toss me out, he’d have to work up the balls to do it on his own. I wasn’t going to do it for him. Frowning at my hands, I sighed. I really should just go. That would be the smart thing to do. Go and never come back. I wrapped my arms across my stomach, yawned again, and waited.

Chapter 7

Evan

She’d always had a beautiful smile, her lips curving so widely that it made everyone feel safe in her presence. That day was no different. She cupped my cheek and beamed, and I trusted her because she was my mother. “Your father never hurt those women, Evan. The lawyer would never have helped him if he did. He loves us. Do you believe me?”

I’d nodded because I believed everything she told me. If she said he never did, then he didn’t.