Page 64 of The Club

“Rafael.”

I slide across the bed toward him, but he’s already fighting his way out of the sheets and scrambling up.

He staggers away across the room and through the doorway. I get out of bed and follow him. He bangs into the hallway wall a few times before he makes it out into the living room.

“Rafael.”

He wheels to face me. The nightlights glow dully over his bare skin. His hard cock juts up toward his navel.

“Help me,” he gasps.

My nostrils flare as I stalk toward him. I grab his throat. I don’t squeeze, but I hold firmly. Anyone but me would try to soothe him with words, with gentleness.

There’s no way in hell that would reach him right now, but my hand on his throat definitely does. He visibly calms. He’s shivering, still breathing hard, but he’s listening, waiting.

“You need me to fuck you up, Angel?”

He grabs my wrist, but not to stop me. He’s begging me.

My cock, which has been stiff since I woke from my own dream, twitches upward. Thank god he needs me right now—because I need him too.

“Then get back in the fucking bed.” I thrust him away from me in the direction of the hallway.

He could fight, force me to deal with things right here, but he complies. I’m impatient to take over, practically treading on his heels as he backtracks to the bedroom. As soon as we near the bed, I grab him and force him onto it. God, it’s so darkly satisfying.

I pin him with my body as I lean across him to the bedside table and grab the lube. He’s panting, shaking. I slap his ass.

“Calm the fuck down.”

It helps a little. He loosens enough that I can get his hips up. I lube my cock until it’s sloppy and slap some on his hole. Then I set my broad tip against that tight ring. In the ambient light, I watch how his hole stretches around the head of my cock as I breach him. It’s fucking beautiful, and the way he’s crying out as I penetrate him in a long, unrelenting glide just makes it better.

His hands fist the sheets as I force my way into his body. When I bottom out, I lean down and grab his hair. Hard. Meanly.

“Cry as much as you want. Scream if you want. It’s not gonna stop.”

He gasps and shudders at my words—and I start fucking him. I’m not nice about it. I pull back, drawing out the thick, brutal length of my cock almost to the tip before thrusting deep. He’s tight. I’m sure it hurts. But when I reach under him and grab his dick, he’s still rock hard.

I slap his cock away, making him cry out at it smacks against his lower belly. I grab his hips in a bruising grip and start railing him. Eventually, his body loosens. He starts taking it better.

“You like that, whore? My cock in your ass?”

He moans and puts his hands over his head. I let my hips snap forward as hard as they want. I don’t hold back. The bed is too solid to hit the wall, but it still moves with my pounding. My cock plunges noisily. My pelvis and balls slap audibly against him.

“How many men have been inside you? How many times have you been fucked by cocks in the dark? Do they make you come, you dirty bitch?”

He cries out hard and long. It’s awful, and I fucking love it. I almost come when I hear it—because I feel that sound insidemyself all the time, but I can’t let it. He can. He does it for us both.

I plant my hand on his head and smash his face into the mattress as I pound his ass. He’s so fucking loud. He’s half screaming, half moaning. He’s so damn close.

“You take it so good, you pretty little whore. No wonder everybody wanted to fuck you.” I start jackhammering him. “You’re made for cock, aren’t you?”

I slap his ass. “Answer me!”

He screams. His ass clenches on me like a fucking vice as he comes so hard that he starts thrashing. It flips my switch. Holding him in place, I pound into him ruthlessly until my balls draw up hard, and I come in hot, wrenching pulses inside him.

It is the ugliest, dirtiest orgasm I’ve ever had. It has me roaring, snapping forward, burying myself deep as I keep coming in angry spurts. It takes a long time for me to stop heaving against him, for my anger to fade.

Rafael is spasming through his own aftershocks, but he’s starting to go still, to go quiet. I pull out of him. I flop onto my back and try to come back to myself.

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