Page 122 of Beautiful Cruelty

But maybe, just maybe, if he hurts me, it’ll feel like justice.

Like I’m paying the price for what I couldn’t stop.

I tilt my head back, exposing my throat. “Harder!”

For a moment, I’m scared that he won’t oblige me.

But then, his hand wraps around my throat, tenderly at first, as if he’s not sure that he should.

I rock my hips back, meeting him with a desperation that surprises even me. The bed creaks beneath us, the sound raw and primal, matching the rhythm of our bodies. His breath comes in ragged gasps against my neck, and when I arch my ass back him and squeeze my pussy around his hard throbbing cock, he realizes that Iamcertain.

That's when his fingers begin to tighten, and my heart blooms in triumph.

My vision starts to blur at the edges, but I don't want him to stop. I want to be consumed by this, by him.

“Yes,” I moan, my inner walls clenching around his cock, my heart aching to escape reality. "Harder!"

Vadim's hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back as he pistons into me. The sharp sting makes me cry out, but I don’t want him to stop. I want him to take everything from me, to leave me raw and broken and remade.

He leans over me, his lips closing around my earlobe. Fresh pain mixes with the pleasure as he fucks me harder, punctuating each syllable with another hard thrust. “Is this enough,zvyozdochka?”

“No.” I confess.

He releases my throat and hair, pushes my face down into the bed with one hand, and grips my hips with the other—hard enough to bruise—as he pulls himself almost completely out.

Before I can beg for him to return, he buries himself to the hilt, giving me just a moment to cry out before he pulls all the way to my entrance again.

Only to bury himself completely inside of me again.

"You want me to fuck you like a slut?"

“Yes…” Tears of shame and pleasure stream down my face as he thrusts.

"You want me to fuck you like a whore?"

“Yes!” I shout.

"Then say it,” he snarls above me with every thrust, keeping his thrusts deep but measured. “Beg for me to fuck you like the whore that you are. The slut that you want to be.”

“Please!” I beg loudly. “Please fuck me like a greedy slut! Please fuck me like I'm a worthless whore! Your worthless whore! It's what I want, so don't make me wait anymore. Don't make me beg anymore! Please! Please! Please!”

And it’s true.

Itiswhat I want.

I want him to turn me into nothing but a set of holes—a toy for him to use and discard. I love the way he makes me feel small and powerless, like I’m nothing but a vessel for his pleasure.

It’s the only way to erase the waves of guilt lapping at my mind.

I know I’m just chasing a temporary high.

I know that this depravity, this degradation...it's nothing but a band-aid on a gaping wound in my heart. But I don't care.

He sets a brutal pace that has the headboard slamming against the wall. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by my wanton cries.

It's rough, almost painful, but it’s exactly what I need.

I feel a scream of pleasure bubbling in my throat. When it tears out of me, it leaves my throat raw and ragged. Before I can gather the strength to collect myself, another one punches from my throat.

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