Page 63 of The Beautiful Dead

I was unraveling him, thread by thread, carving my name into his soul. Every gasp, every broken plea belonged to me. His body was mine to ruin, mine to worship, and mine to control.

Tears streaked his flushed cheeks, his breath coming in frantic, shallow pants. His body glistened with sweat, the bruises I’d left painted across his skin like the most exquisite art. Time had ceased to exist. There was only this—only him. Bound by my hands, by my desire.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” he chanted, voice slurred, hypnotized, shattered.

His limbs trembled violently, and he was barely able to hold himself up. Between deep, slow drags of his cock and fucking his hole with the length of my tongue, I unraveled him thread by thread, carving my name into his soul.

The sheets beneath him were soaked with his tears. The puddle of precum below him was obscene.

I gave his stretched hole one last deep lick before reaching for my switchblade. Flipping it open, I met his gaze—those ice-blue eyes hazy, lost, drowning in my control.

A wicked smirk curved my lips as I traced the blade down the arch of his spine, pressing just hard enough to break skin. Beads of red welled up, rolling down to where he was stretched and quivering for me.

I licked the blood from his skin, savoring the metallic tang, the intoxicating mixture of pain and surrender. My fingerstangled in his damp hair, yanking his head back as I crushed my mouth against his in a brutal, claiming kiss.

Mine.

Always.

I fed him his essence, his whimper lost between my teeth. It was messy. Raw. Obsession incarnate.

He was mine. And I made sure he knew it.

When I pulled back, he gasped, lips swollen, eyes glazed with need. He reached for me, desperate.

“Nu-uh.” I gripped his jaw, forcing him to meet my gaze. “You take what I give you.”

Dragging my fingers through the blood streaking his back, I painted my palm in crimson before wrapping it around my cock, slicking my length with it. My breathing turned ragged at the sight—his blood marking me. Claiming me as much as I claimed him.

It made me fucking feral.

Notching the head against his stretched hole, I let out a satisfied growl. “You exist to take me, Remi.” I pressed in just enough to make him shudder. “To be filled by me. To wear me inside and out.”

A moan tore from his throat, his hips rolling, his body seeking more. My hand cracked down on his ass, sharp and punishing. He jerked forward with a high-pitched cry.

“Stay. Still.” My voice was steel. “You don’t move unless I say. You don’t breathe unless I allow it.”

My hips snapped forward, impaling him in one brutal thrust. Remi’s back arched, his body seizing, his nails clawing at the sheets as he wailed.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back, my lips grazing his ear. “I’m going to use you like my own personal cocksleeve.” I licked a slow path down his throat, feeling hispulse hammer beneath my tongue. “And if you can’t behave, I’ll tie you down. Bind your wrists. Your ankles. Spread you wide.”

I tightened my grip on his hair, tilting his head back further, and his body bent to my will.

“You’ll be at my mercy.”

Remi shuddered violently, whimpering, his body limp against mine, pliant, willing.

“You like that, don’t you?” Remi nodded. I dragged my teeth along his jaw before shoving two fingers into his mouth. “Suck.”

He obeyed without hesitation, tongue swirling, moaning around them like he was starving for it.

“To be tied down and used over and over again. Fucked until you blacked out.”

He moaned around my fingers, saliva spilling down his chin.

I pulled my fingers free, gripping his jaw once more. “Would you like to wake up,piccolo agnello, and feel my cum dripping out of you?”

“Oh God. Oh God,” he chanted.

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