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The Carnage We Keep

Page 133

by Jagger Cole

Because the more completely I imagine him breaking me apart, the more desperately I want to find out what’s left when he’s done.

My whole body goes limp as Damiano starts to pound, fucking me like a goddamn rag doll. The high, staccato sounds of my whimpers fill the room as he fucks me over and over, our bodies sliding wetly over the blood and the carnage, surrounded by death and destruction like we’re the beating heart at the center of the fucking apocalypse.

He leans over me, one huge hand wrapped around my waist, yanking me onto his thrusting cock over and over. His other hand wraps my sticky hair around his fist, pulling my head back and snarling into my throat before his teeth sink in.

“Break for me, little nightmare,” he hisses into my ear. “Break all over my fucking cock. Break all the fuck over me.”

My world goes blank.

And then that’s exactly what I do. I fucking break. Entirely.

For a single blinding second, there is no room.

No blood, no bodies, no Damiano.

Not even really a me anymore.

Just the white-hot, violent collapse of every wall I’ve spent years building inside myself.

“DAME!”

“Come for me, baby,” he rasps into my ear, his teeth gnawing at my flesh as I shatter to smithereens. “Be a good little cum hole and come for me.”

Suddenly, I’m coming harder than I ever have, so hard that it almost hurts as sheer ecstasy slams into me like a fucking hurricane making landfall.

Everything goes black. I can feel him groan and bite into my skin as he buries his huge cock all the way inside me. His body tenses and pulses as his hot cum spills into me, filling me with pump after pump until I can feel it leaking out and dripping down from where we join.

I’m gasping for air when his mouth slams to mine.

But suddenly, I don’t need oxygen.

I don’t need reality. I don't need the shadows of the past. All I need is his mouth on mine.

And I drown in the kiss that follows.

23

DAMIANO

I’m floating in the crimson, letting it seep into my veins, my pores, my mouth. I’m drinking it down like a dark communion as it pulls me under.

A baptism in blood, and I will never, ever be the same.

My eyes open.

I’m still here. Still in the room full of blood and bodies and carnage.

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I glance down to Bella sprawled naked across me, her cheek resting on my skin as she lazily traces shapes on my chest with the tip of her nail.

I blink away the memory as we lie tangled on the floor in the middle of the bloody wreckage.

I don’t usually let those back in. I’m guessing our current setting brought it on.

There’s a reason my killing method of choice involves a sterile room. Clean gurney. Precise cuts, surgical tubing, and a nice, controlled flow of life from vein to drain.

And now here I am, surrounded by utter carnage; blood still dripping down the walls. Splattered across the ceiling. Pooling under the bodies strewn haphazardly around the blue-lit room. Smeared across our skin.

It’s not that I’m bothered by the sight of blood. I’m not, obviously. I just…