Page 116 of Raise Hell

Drake has to be withholding what I want from me on purpose. Maybe it’s about proving to himself that he has the upper hand.

He isn’t wrong.

My hands clench on the altar cloth. They move to his arms, clawing at the skin. It doesn’t seem to faze him at all.

“I want it harder.”

“No.” His hands coast up my thighs, tracing the curve of my waist. “You’ll take what I give you and like it.”

In that moment, I understand just how much he’s holding back. I can’t allow him to do it. I can’t be the only one who feels this way. My walls are coming down. If his don’t do the same, then he will see everything I’ve worked so hard to hide.

“If you can’t give me what I need, maybe I’ll just find someone who will,” I taunt, arching my hips. “Maybe I should call Nolan. He seems like he’d be an angry fuck.”

Drake freezes for a split second. Then, his expression alters to one of angry intent. He shifts back on his heels, pulling almost all the way out of me so the very tip of him is poised at my entrance. He hesitates, like he might just walk away.

Our gazes meet, eyes flashing in the dark. He looks at me like he might just strangle me.

When I roll my eyes, he growls.

He shoves in to the hilt. A desperate cry rings from the rafters, and it takes a beat to realize it came from me. The force of his hips is enough to shift me back on the altar, but he grabs my hips to keep me in place.

He pounds me back against the altar, over and over. Even with the fabric covering the rough surface, my back will have bruises tomorrow left by the stone.

Drake fucks me like he wants it to hurt.

And it does, in the best possible way.

I’m dying, burning up from the inside out.

I recognize this pain.

It’s penance.

And absolution.

I writhe under him like a wild thing, bucking against his hands. My fingernails gouge trails of red into his arms.

His thrusts get more and more wild. My heels dig into his back, thighs on fire as they clench and shiver around him. He couldn’t get any deeper inside me if he tried, but that doesn’t stop him from moving faster and harder. Shocks of painful pleasure shoot up my spine each time he bottoms out.

I feel like a sacrifice laid out on the altar, a true sacrament of the flesh.

And I come again with that same excruciating intensity.

He isn’t far behind me. With a groan, Drake collapses on top of me so I’m crushed under the weight of his body. Every pulse of his cock batters the bruised flesh of my insides. The rhythm matches the painful beat of my heart. I squeeze down on him, drawing a low moan from his chest.

“Okay, enough,” he gasps.

Drake pulls out, and I sit up. Fluid leaks out of me to stain the white altar cloth. I wonder if anyone is going to notice it during service tomorrow.

I should feel worse about that than I do.

He doesn’t meet my gaze as he tucks himself away and zips up his jeans.

“There’s a party at Havoc House on Saturday.” He says it offhandedly, like we were just in the middle of a conversation. “It’s the last big blowout before midterms, so everyone who matters will be there.”

Saturday is Halloween.

I catch the jeans he tosses at me. “Are you asking me to be there?”

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