Page 66 of Claiming Pretty

I studied my Scáth, his handsome features contorted with anger, his expression blazing with fire and wrath. But beneath the fury, I glimpsed something deeper—raw, unguarded pain, fragile and aching, hidden behind the storm.

In that moment, I realized Ty and Ciaran weren’t so different after all. They both wore masks.

Ty’s was made of ice, cold and impenetrable. Ciaran’s was forged in flames. But beneath their masks, they were the same—fragile, wounded, and desperate to protect the parts of themselves they feared the world would destroy.

ThatImight destroy.

“I chose you,” I said as I reached for him, my hands pulling at his shirt, trying to get at the smooth skin underneath.

With a snarl, Ciaran wrapped his hand around my throat, walking me back until I slammed into the wall.

“Tell me you don’t feel anything for him,” he hissed.

“I want you.”

“You’re going to leave me,” Ciaran said with so much agony in his voice that my heart split right in two.

“I loveyou.”

His lips smashed against mine, his hands pulling my thighs around his waist, pressing my aching pussy against his hard cock.

I moaned with need mixed with anger and guilt, a heady poison.

Ciaran staggered as if drunk toward my bed, falling on me and knocking the air from my lungs.

“I love you,” I said breathlessly when Ciaran pulled away from our kiss to pull my shirt roughly over my head.

“Little liar,” he growled, fresh anger clouding his eyes and painting his cheeks a deep red.

He shoved me back to the bed, yanking my skirt and panties off, before diving onto me, preying on my nipples with his teeth, scraping and nipping violently. “Is he a better kisser than me? Huh?”

I reached for his pants, unzipping and kicking them off. I wrapped my hands around his hard cock and stroked him, spreading his pre-cum, my fists squeezing him with frustration.

“Does he touch you the way you like?” His hands were at my throat with the speed of a viper. Above me his eyes were blown out so wide they were almost consumed by black, by lust, by revenge. “Does he?”

Gasping for breath, I moved his cock to my entrance, desperate for him, for oblivion. “P-please…”

He choked me, cutting off my air as he slammed into me.

I cried out in pain, in pleasure, the feelings so intense, washing away all my thoughts, my confusion, my guilt. It was only his fingers around my throat that kept my scream from rattling the walls of my bedroom.

He began to fuck me, hard, bordering on violence, hurting me, punishing me.

I clawed at his back, digging my nails into his skin as I tried to keep up with the pace he set.

“Does he fuck you like I fuck you?”

His eyes were wild and uncontrolled, consumed by lustand anger. Every thrust was forceful, his body slamming into mine with a fury that bordered on violence.

His fingers tightened around my throat, cutting off my air supply and making my vision darken at the edges.

But I didn’t care. All I could focus on was the pleasure coursing through me, blurring the lines between pain and ecstasy.

My whole body erupted into goosebumps even as gray dots appeared on the high vaulted ceilings. I clenched around his cock as he battered me.

“Do you come just as hard for him?”

I pawed at his back, at the damp bedsheets beneath us.

---