Page 99 of The Beast Who Broke Me
And then he’s pushing in, slow and steady, stretching me wide. My body welcomes him, muscles relaxing to take him in, and there’s that familiar, exquisite burn that lights me up.
He starts to move, deep, rolling thrusts that hit just right. His hands are on my hips, holding me in place, and he’s watching me, reallywatchingme, his dark eyes burning into mine.
I’ve never been seen like this before. Not by anyone. Stripped bare, not just of clothes but of defenses, laid open under his gaze. And just like with everything he does to me, I want it.
I want it more than I should.
And I feel every damn inch of him, every drag of his cock against my sensitive insides. He leans down, bracing himself on one arm, and kisses me again. It’s a messy, sloppy kiss, and I give as good as I get, my hands on his back, urging him on.
“Take it,” he grits out, his forehead pressed against mine. “Take all of it from me.”
Iwantit. Everything he has. His anger, his protection, his hatred, and now this fierce, possessive tenderness that scares me more than any of the rest of it. I’ll take everything he has to give. That’s what I’m thinking when he starts to come, when he gasps against my neck and spills deep inside me, filling me to the brim.
He stays like that for a moment, his weight heavy on me, his breath hot against my skin. Then he lifts up on his arms, his cock still inside me, and looks down at me. His expression is unreadable. He pulls out despite my protests, and kisses his way down my body, pausing to suck at my nipples, to bite gently at my hip bones. And then he’s burying his face between my cheeks, his tongue finding my hole, still slick with lube and cum. I cry out, my hands flying to his hair, holding him there.
He gets me writhing on the bed, pushing back against his face. His tongue presses inside me, a wicked invasion, and he grabs my hips to force me to stay still. He takes his time, lapping at my fucked-out hole, until he finally lifts his head.
“You taste like me,” he says, his voice rough. “But I wanna tasteyou.” And then he takes up my cock and strokes it—once, twice—and says, “Come on, golden boy. Give it to me.”
And with that, he closes his lips over the head of my dick and sucks, hard. I come for him at once, curling into him as my orgasm surges through me. He swallows every last drop of it, his tongue still working me as the pleasure fades, sucking me even as sensitivity takes hold.
At last, he lets me go, and I collapse back onto the bed, hear him go into the bathroom, hear water running. Almost before I can start missing him, he slides back into bed next to me and cleans me down with a warm washcloth.
“What’s going on?” I mumble. “Something happened.”
“Nothing,” he says, evasive again.
He pushes me onto my side and curls himself around me, tucking my head under his chin and pulling the covers over us. His arm is heavy across my ribs. His heartbeat is still too fast against my back.
It reminds me of how things used to be, before I stopped trusting him. Before I left him.
“Dami,” I murmur. “Whatever happened tonight...you can tell me.”
His arm tightens. “Go to sleep, Caligula.”
It sounds like a goodbye.
I don’t sleep for a long time, and neither does he.
CHAPTER 34
DAMIANO
I really did meanto kill him. One quick snap and that delicate neck would have fractured.
A mercy, compared to what the Bratva will do to him.
But then he started talking about Sammy’s birthday, and my plan, the logical plan I’d figured out while Vito drove around Manhattan, and I thought about my father, and about Caligula’s father, and about Caligula most of all…
He started talking, and that plan evaporated.
My hand went to his throat, and he looked up at me with total trust. Instead of strangling him, I kissed him. Instead of killing him, I fucked him.
And now I’ve woken with him sleeping in my arms, and I still can’t seem to make myself do it.
I’ll do it tomorrow. Or the next day.
Definitely before the end of the week, before I’m supposed to hand him over.
