Page 165 of The Beautiful Dead

A deep groan rumbled in my chest as the salty sweet taste of his cum filled my mouth. I wanted to swallow him down. I wanted him to take root inside me and never leave.

Oh, fuck.

His words licked at my skin like flames, branding me, searing themselves deep, burning through flesh and bone until they were part of me.

Until I could never fucking forget.

Domino’s gaze darkened, locked onto the sight. His tongue darted out, sweeping across his lower lip, his smirk cutting sharp at the corners. “Good boy.”

Fuuuuck.

A fresh wave of tears burned the back of eyes. No one had ever said anything like that to me.

Not in praise.

Not in want.

Not in love.

My whole body felt like a struck match dipped in kerosene.

Domino’s lips brushed over my sweat-dampened forehead, trailing slow, reverent kisses across my face. Like he was memorizing me. Like he was grateful for me.

His voice came wrecked, raw, shattered. Silk dragged over broken glass. “Thank you.” A pause, a shuddering breath wrenched from the depths of his dark soul. “For bringing me back.”

My heart cracked wide open.

I didn’t know how to respond. Didn’t know how to tell him that he was the one keeping me here. Keeping me alive.

That if he ever left me again, I would never recover. So I let him take me. I let him own me. Let him manipulate my body like it belonged to him because it did.

Domino’s hands skimmed down my sides, featherlight, teasing, before they tightened at my hips. Blunt nails bit into my skin. The only warning I got?—

Before he flipped me over.

My face hit silk, my tears soaking into the sheets. Domino’s strong arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me up, positioning me exactly where he wanted me. Like I was meant to be here. Like I was built to be here. Like I was splayed open for his pleasure alone.

His hands moved fast, practiced, spreading me out, maneuvering me like I was his fucking toy.

I was.

I fucking was.

He shoved my knees under me. A strong, possessive palm pressed down on my lower back, arching me deeper, forcing me to push my ass out more.

Fuck.

I was shaking. Trembling. Still holding his release in my mouth, fighting my body’s instinct to swallow.

A sharp crack rendered the air.

Pain. Heat. A fire blooming across my ass. I moaned, low and wrecked, the burn searing through my skin. Another slap landed. Harder. Faster.

The impact rocked me forward, sending electricity crackling through my veins. Pleasure collided with pain, fused into something that left me aching, gasping, begging.

My neglected cock throbbed, the tip dripping precum, every nerve screaming for relief.

“Beautiful,” he muttered, his voice dark, reverent.

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