Page 143 of Beautiful Cruelty

"Yes…" I admit, arching my back towards him until the angry throbbing head inches inside of me. "Hurt me. Use me. Punish me. Make me pay for all the things I've done."

Then, I turn around, stare into his storm gray eyes, and whisper, begging. "Please."

42

LACEY

He entersme in one savage thrust and I cry out, both from pain and pleasure. His cock fills me completely, stretching me wide.

But even through his rage, I can feel him holding back. Like he doesn’t quite believe me that Iwanthim to hurt me.

And when he starts moving, the motions are controlled, measured—and nothing like the brutal force I expected.

It's not enough.

Not nearly enough.

It urges me to fuck myself back onto his cock with desperate abandon. Each thrust drives me harder against the unforgiving floor, but I want more.

I need more.

I need him to break me apart so I can maybe, finally, be put back together.

"I told you to hurt me," I snap. "You promised you would if I asked."

"Not like this." He snarls by my ear, voice straining as he keeps himself in check.

"Why not?"

"Because you don't deserve to be hurt like this."

Frustration explodes through me. "I don't need you to tell me what I deserve! I don't need you pretending you're anything but the monster keeping me in this mansion. Stop holding me like I'm made of porcelain. I need you to fuck me until it hurts. Make the physical pain match the guilt tearing at my mind since Paris!"

"You don't know that!"

I slam my hips back against him, taking him deeper. "You don't get to tell me what I know!" I snarl as I start fucking him mercilessly. "I betrayed you, remember? I went to the cops behind your back. If anyone else did this, you wouldn't hesitate to hurt them. Why not me?"

"Because you're my wife!"

His words hit me like a slap. I let out a bitter laugh.

"I'm not your wife. I'm just a means to an end." My voice cracks but I force the words out anyway.

"If you're not my wife, then what are you?"

"Just a woman whose fiancé you killed."

His rhythm falters for just a moment. Then his hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back as his thrusts quickens until it starts to near the punishing pace I need it to be.

His control is starting to slip.

Good.

Recklessly, I keep talking. I goad him forward, knowing that it's only a matter of time before I finally push him over that edge.

"What, you can kill my fiancé without hesitation," I pant. "But fucking me is somehow crossing a line?"

"That's different."

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