Page 54 of Break Me Apart
“I need it,” I plead, my voice raw. My fingers twist in the sheets, my knuckles white. “Stop fucking teasing me and fuck me—”
He pulls back, and his hand cracks down on my arse, the sharp sting making me groan. His grip on my hip turns bruising, his nails digging in as he finally — finally —pushes forward, his cockhead popping past the tight ring of muscle. The burn is immediate, intense, my body fighting the intrusion even as I whine and push back, trying to take more. The stretch is almost too much, but the ache is perfect, and the pain makes my cock drip against the bed.
“Fuck, Caiden—” he groans, his voice strained. He pulls back just enough to press in again, this time sinking another inch, dragging against my prostate. His hips roll the tiniest amount, his cock barely moving inside me. “Did you touch yourself like this? Pretend it was my cock stretching you open?”
“Y-yeah—” My voice cracks. “I finger myself until it hurts, but it’s never— never—” His cock sinks deeper, and I choke on a moan, my body trembling. “Please, Ari—”
His teeth graze the back of my neck. His cock is halfway inside me now, the stretch bordering on toomuch, but I don’t want him to stop. “I need you to fuck me,” I beg, my voice breaking. “Hard.”
His voice vibrates against my skin. “Since you asked so nicely.” His hand leaves my hip, only to crack down on my arse again, the sharp pain making me jerk forward before he slams his hips home, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
The air rushes out of my lungs. My body burns, stretched around him, my hole clenching helplessly as he bottoms out. His balls press against me, heavy and full, and I can feel the pulse of his cock inside me. “Fucking Jesus—” The words are torn from me, my voice hoarse, my cock throbbing against the sheets.
“That’s it,” he snarls, his fingers digging into my hips. He pulls back slowly before slamming back in, the impact driving me into the mattress. “You wanted it hard? You got it.” His thrusts turn punishing, his hips snapping against my arse with enough force to make the headboard thump against the wall.
Every time he bottoms out, I can’t think, I can’t breathe. All I can do is take it, my body rocking with every thrust, my cock leaking onto the sheets beneath me. His fingers find my nipple, twisting just hard enough to make me cry out, the pain sharpening the pleasure until I’m nothing but a bundle of sensation.
His hand wraps around my throat, pulling me up until my back arches. His cock still buried inside me. His other hand snakes around my waist, gripping my cock, strokingme in time with his thrusts. “You’re gonna come for me again,” he murmurs against my ear, his voice a filthy promise.
I whimper, my body tightening around him. His cock hits that spot inside me with every thrust, the pleasure building too fast, too much. “Ari— I —” His fingers tighten around my throat just enough to make my vision go black.
My cock throbs in his grip, my balls drawing up tight. The pleasure is a live wire, sparking through my veins, my body coiled so tight I can barely speak. “I’m—I’m—”
“Give it to me,” he commands, and my body obeys, my cock pulsing in his hand as I come for a second time with a broken cry, my release spilling over his fingers. My hole clenches around him, spasming as he buries himself deep, his own groan rough against my ear.
“Good boy,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my shoulder as his hips stutter, his cock twitching inside me as he fills me. His hand leaves my throat, sliding up to tangle in my hair, yanking my head back enough to press a filthy kiss to my lips. “Such a good boy for me.”
Later, we’re tangled together in the middle of the bed, the sheets kicked half to the floor. Ari lies on his side behind me, his arm draped over my waist, thumb tracing slow, idle circles against my stomach. I feel loose, boneless, with every ounce of tension thoroughly fucked out of me. “This place,” I murmur, eyes already heavy. “It’s different.”
“Mm?”
“I like it.”
He shifts closer, his nose brushing the back of my neck. “You would.”
I smile and let my eyes close, falling asleep before I can think too hard aboutwhat comes after.
SIXTEEN
ARSENY
I wake to the distant sounds of water, muted engines, and a bicycle bell. It’s so far away it should barely count as sound. The room smells like clean linen, last night’s sweat, and the faint citrus bite of whatever soap this hotel thinks passes for luxury. The curtains leak a thin strip of pale morning.
Caiden is already awake.
He’s behind me, propped on one elbow. His fingertips moving in slow, patient circles along the strip of muscle beside my spine, as if he’s mapping me by touch. As if he has time and nobody is going to knock on this door to remind us this is all temporary.
I don’t move right away. I let him keep doing it because if I open my eyes and acknowledge it, he’ll stop, and it feels too good.
His hand shifts lower, following the curve of my back, and I feel my own body respond with a lazy, satisfied heaviness that I refuse to examine when I've just opened my eyes, and I’m still warm from sleep. “You’re awake,” he says quietly.
“I’m always awake.”
He huffs a laugh. “Weird, because you were drooling on my shoulder five minutes ago.”
“Lies.”
“Would you like me to describe it in detail?” he asks, mildly smug.
