Page 138 of The Beautiful Dead

Domino hummed low in his throat. A warning. A promise. “Then I’ll make you feel.”

The words crawled over my skin. A shudder raced through me. I exhaled shakily as his hands curled into the front of myhoodie and yanked me forward, dragging me out of the grave and into him.

Heat. Muscle. Control. Leather and smoke. Home.

He crushed me against him, his breath hot against my rain-slicked skin. His heartbeat pounded through his chest, steady and unyielding. Something I could latch onto. Something that made sense when nothing else did.

I needed his touch like I needed oxygen.

I needed his pain.

His brand of obsession.

His way of carving me open until I had no choice but to feel something.

My fingers fisted in his leather jacket as his teeth scraped along my throat. My breath hitched when I felt the sharp sting of his switchblade dragging down my ribs.

Not deep enough to cause irreparable damage, just enough to break my skin. Just enough to make me burn.

I gasped. And finally, finally, I felt it?—

The spark. The pain. The fire.

I was alive.

Domino’s growl rumbled against my skin as he shoved me back against the damp ground, pinning me beneath him. My pulse pounded against his palm when he wrapped his fingers around my throat, squeezing just enough to make me dizzy.

His dark green eyes burned into mine, searching, demanding. “Come back to me, Remi.”

I arched into him, nails biting into his skin. My entire body was a live wire, crackling and begging for him to ground me in the way only he could.

I needed more.

I needed all of him.

His breath was hot against my ear, his voice nothing but a snarl. “Let me bring you back.”

The storm raged around us, but the real tempest was inside me. A chasm of nothingness, vast and consuming, swallowed me whole.

“Please,” I rasped, baring myself to him, offering up my shattered pieces like some broken thing begging to be ruined.

The pop of my button and the slow, deliberate rasp of my zipper were deafening, even beneath the relentless downpour. Every sensation was magnified. The bite of the rain against my skin, the rough kiss of the wind, the brutal press of his body against mine—it all made me feel alive in a way nothing else could.

“You’re going to feel every inch of me when I sink inside your tight hole,piccolo agnello.”

His voice coiled around my throat, tighter than his fingers ever had, and I ached for the noose of him.

Cold hands yanked my jeans down, exposing me to the unforgiving earth. Sharp stones dug into my back, grit biting into my skin like hungry little mouths, but I barely noticed. Not when he was looking at me like that. Not when his deep green gaze bore into mine, burning through my soul—or whatever was left of it.

Domino shoved my knees to my chest and dropped his full weight onto me, pinning me to the dirt, his hand a steel vice behind my knees. His lips crashed against mine—feral, consuming, merciless. The first icy brush of his mouth stole my breath, my body opening to him on instinct, obedient, desperate.

Always his.

His tongue invaded my mouth, licking inside with a hunger that obliterated everything else. Possessive. Savage. Teeth sank into my tongue, the sharp sting of pain chased by the metallic bloom of copper. I moaned into him, for him.

I was leaking, my cock aching, smearing slick against my stomach, but it was the ice-cold kiss of his blade against my rim that had me gasping.

His lips dragged across my jaw, his teeth marking their claim against my skin in the most primal way possible. His breath ghosted over my ear, low and dark, a whisper that sent violent shivers down my spine.

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