Page 131 of The Oath We Give

“Silas,” she begs, voice choked from the hold I have on the belt around her throat. “Silas, Silas.”

She’s a divine mess. Ruined and so close to coming all over my dick. My beautiful, divine mess. I drive myself into her with more purpose, more hunger, using the sobs of bliss slipping from her lips as fuel. Hot sweat and her juices run down my thighs, her pussy joining her cries. The hollow walls of the room echo the sound back into my ears.

“You’re such a good fucking girl, taking all of me like this, Coraline.” My teeth grind together. “I’m going to fill you all up until you’re overflowing with me.”

I sound harsher than I want to, but everything feels so vicious as I try to savor every inch of my length plowing into my new home. She watches me in the reflection, eyes wet and melting for me. She’s soft and soaking all around, swallowing me like a wave.

My hand releases the belt, locking both hands on her hips, gripping her soft flesh in my palms, using them as leverage to sink myself as deep as possible with every thrust. She’s shuddering, moaning sweetly, so close to toppling over the edge, and my balls tighten, wanting to follow her over that cliff.

Not feeling close enough, I circle my arms around her middle, pulling her back into my body. She cries out at the change of position, my cock lodged so deep inside of her, piercings assaulting her G-spot to the point it’s almost too much.

But I’ll never have enough.

Her tight ass rests on the tops of my thighs as I shove her up and down my shaft, using her pussy to massage my cock like a toy. I fuck her like she’s mine to ruin, because she is. I’ll wreck, ruin, and demolish everything she knew before and fall to my knees in worship at the beauty of what she rebuilds into.

My lips press a kiss to the side of her neck, breath erratic in her ear as I taste the sweat dripping down her throat.

“Soak my cock, baby. Come all over me. Show me how good I make you feel,” I moan, feeling her already start to come undone, that tight spring in her lower stomach snapping in two.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, oh my God,” she curses, body stiffening in my arms.

Her pussy strangles me, a starved pull that sends me over the edge just as she gushes all over my thighs, throbbing around my cock until I’m filling her with my cum.

“Coraline.”

Her name is a plea into the crook of her neck as I keep pumping my cum into her sopping pussy, fucking us both through the afterwaves of our orgasm. Even as she collapses into me, a puppet who’d lost its strings, she still moans and whimpers while rocking her hips back, meeting me for every thrust.

I never want to pull out, never want to leave her body.

She’s opium. Some addictive substance that I never want to quit. That subtle, sweet sting of drugs being injected into your bloodstream, its tendrils wrapping around your mind, luring you into that secluded place where subtle whispers and sweet release hide.

There is peace that lies in her body. Quiet peace after the world has refused to give me only war for years. A stillness that the chaos inside of me craves.

“Silas,” she whispers, her head dropping back against my shoulder. “I think you succeeded. I’m officially ruined.”

I tuck my head into the crook of her neck and pepper her throat with kisses, flicking my tongue beneath the leather belt to soothe the red skin. A smile touches my lips as I keep myself inside of her.

“You’ve ruined me too.”

Ruined the fear of loving because of imminent loss.

Death is not a maybe; it’s a must for all of us. It’s scary knowing at any moment, we can be taken, one second here and gone the next. It’s even more chilling when you think of loving someone, knowing no matter what you do, they’ll die.

But she’s worth it. Worth the pain, worth the fear, worth the grief if she goes before me. Worth her weight in gold, and I’d like to destroy anyone that made her feel like she wasn’t. Like loving her is a hard thing to do.

Loving Coraline Whittaker is worth inevitable death.

The quiet stillness of the air shatters like glass as my phone rings. Good things are rarely built to last and this moment of peace? Is no different.

One sentence is all it takes for war to return. Unstoppable destruction. Buildings topple, monuments crumble, and everything good turns to ash.

“We have a fucking problem.”

Book made for [email protected]

THIRTY-ONE

OH BROTHER

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