Page 49 of The Beautiful Dead

He didn’t give me time to figure it out. His mouth crashed into mine, crushing, devouring, his teeth scraping over my lower lip before biting down hard enough to make me whimper.

My hands fisted into his hair, yanking him closer as his grip bruised into my sides. The air between us was thick with blood, sweat, and something more potent—something dangerous. Dark and delicious.

He yanked my hoodie off, then my shirt, dragging his mouth down my throat, biting at my pulse point, sucking until I knew there’d be a mark. I barely noticed when my jeans hit the floor, only aware of the way he was stripping himself just as fast, his sweatpants falling away to reveal the thick, hard length of him, slick, precum spilling from his slit.

“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice dark and commanding.

I obeyed without hesitation, my blood-drenched fingers gripping Calloway’s shoulders. His skin was wet beneath my touch, the air cold against my feverish skin.

Domino pressed against me from behind, his cock sliding against the cleft of my ass. His breath was ragged at my ear. “You look so fucking good like this,” he groaned. “So ready for me. So hungry for it.”

A whimper slipped past my lips as his fingers sank into the globes of my ass and spread me open. He dragged his finger lower, circling my entrance, taunting me, and softening the tight ring of muscle before pushing inside. The intrusion was unlike anything I’d ever felt before—ice cold pain warred with the fiery lust roaring in my veins. I groaned as he pushed in further, stretching where no one had ever stretched me before. When the pain subsided, I arched my back and pressed my hips into him, desperate for more.

“Fuck, Remi,” he growled, voice shaking with restraint. “You’re so fucking tight. You’re going to feel so good wrapped around my cock as I pound into you.”

“Oh, fuck.”

He pulled his finger out and pushed in two, stretching me further. His other hand gripped my hip so hard I knew there’d be bruises. Marked. Owned. Claimed. He twisted his fingers, brushing against something inside me that made my knees buckle as pleasure coursed through me, drowning me.

“That’s it,” he gritted out. “You like that, huh? You like being split open for me?”

I moaned, pushing back against his hand, fucking myself on his fingers. Chasing the pressure, the stretch, the way he was unraveling me piece by piece.

He pulled his fingers out abruptly, and before I could whine at the loss, I felt the weight of his cock pressing against me. His hand ran down my back, making me shudder. The sound of his hand working up and down his shaft echoing in the room, the blunt head of his cock nudging against my loosened hole on every upward stroke.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Tell me you want it.”

I swallowed, my voice wrecked with nerves and anticipation. “I want it.”

“Louder.”

“I want it, Domino. Fuck me.Please.”

A low growl vibrated against my back. “Good fucking boy.”

Praise swelled in me, goosebumps prickled across my skin as waves of heat crested in my chest. Then he was slamming inside me, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. A cry tore from my throat, my body clenching around him as pleasure and pain blurred into one. He didn’t give me time to adjust—he pulled back and slammed into me again, and again, each thrust rough, merciless, a punishment and a reward all at once.

The more it hurt, the higher I floated.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers digging into my hips, nails cutting into my skin. “You’re taking my cock so fucking well. Look at you. So tight, so perfect for me.”

I gasped, arching into him, my whole body trembling as he fucked me hard enough to make the chair creak beneath me.

“You love this, don’t you?” His voice was a growl in my ear, filthy and possessive. “You love being used like this. My perfect little killer, soaking up every second of it.”

“Yes,” I choked out, fingers slipping on slick skin. My grip tightened so hard that my knuckles ached.

He slammed into me harder, his breath ragged. “Mine,” he snarled. “Every fucking inch of you. Mine.”

The pleasure built fast, curling deep in my stomach, turning into something blinding. I was drowning in it, in him, in the way his cock was hitting every spot inside me that had me unraveling.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered, voice rough, desperate.

I obeyed, slipping my hand between my legs, stroking myself in time with his thrusts. The sensation was too much, overwhelming, pleasure bleeding into pain, and it sent me spiraling over the edge.

One more pump and I came with a wrecked cry, my body locking up as I clenched around him. Domino cursed, his rhythm stuttering before he slammed into me a final time, coming deep inside me, filling me with his cum and marking my insides like he did my skin.

His breath was hot against my skin. “Fuck,piccolo agnello.You love the bite of pain, don’t you?”

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