Page 97 of The Beautiful Dead

A pained whimper slipped past his lips, and his eyes shuttered closed as if the words were a blade carving through him. And when they reopened, their beautiful dark green depths had been swallowed by obsidian hunger. His pupils were blown so wide they consumed the color entirely.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His hands tightened, thick veins protruding against the skin. Something inside him snapped. The moment was palpable, like a bomb detonating, obliterating everything in its path.

His lips crashed down on mine with a force that stole the air from my lungs. A brutal, claiming kiss that wasn’t soft, wasn’t kind—it was a declaration of war.

Teeth. Nails. Bruising kisses that drew blood and shattered me apart, only to piece me back together under him. He was my master. My dark god. The altar I’d worship.

His hands weren’t just gripping me—they were staking a claim. Tearing pieces of me away. Owning. They trailed fire down my skin, branding me with every ragged breath, every growl vibrating through his chest.

I felt his need in every single visceral touch. The way he dug his nails into my waist, into my hips, yanking me closer like the distance between us was unbearable.

The way he bit into my throat, sucking deep enough to leave another mark as my blood coated his lips, another reminder that I was his.

I moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed it whole, his tongue licking into me, dominating, demanding.

His name was carved into my body now, left in bruises and bite marks, in the ache of my muscles, in the sting of my lips.

Domino didn’t remove our clothes—he ripped them away. The fabric shredded under his hands, torn apart like nothing more than an inconvenience. A low growl rumbled from his chest as he bared me to him, heat rolling off his skin as it sealed against mine.

His body was a furnace, scorching away the cold that had settled in my bones. The sudden contact stole the air from my lungs, forcing a gasp from my lips that he swallowed with his mouth.

We didn’t need whispered words.

There was no need for declarations or sweet reassurances. We understood each other without them.

The way his hands bruised into my skin—demanding, urgent. The way I arched into him, meeting his force with my own. The way his forehead pressed against mine, breaths mingling, shared between us. This was our language.

His large hands hooked under my knees, lifting me, spreading me wider until I was open, exposed, helpless beneath him. His legs caged me in, a predator pinning his prey.

And I wanted to be caught.

The slick, swollen head of his cock notched at my entrance, pressing, teasing—but it wasn’t gentle. Nothing about Domino ever was. His dark gaze burned into mine, eyes feral, full of something savage and unrelenting.

Then he drove forward. One brutal thrust punched into me as he forced my body to submit to him.

I choked on a cry as he breached me, filled me, stretched me to the edge of breaking. A sharp burn flared through my spine, pleasure and pain tangled so tightly together I couldn’t separate them. My body resisted, then yielded, sucked him deeper until he was buried to the hilt, fully seated inside me.

Domino shuddered, a breathless curse spilling from his lips as he gripped my hips like he was trying to fuse us together.

My nails dragged down his back, leaving marks of my own, staking my claim on him the same way he was branding me. His flesh embedded under my nails, his blood slipping down his back, staining my hands.

His head dipped, teeth sinking into my throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark that would last for days. A reminder. A warning.

Domino’s hips snapped forward, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm. No hesitation. No mercy. Each powerful thrust tore the breath from my lungs, each drag and stretch of his cock against my raw, hypersensitive nerves sent violent tremors through me.

Pleasure and pain collided and fused into something monstrous. A devastating, all-consuming force that left me at his mercy. And I wanted it. Begged for it.

He fucked me like he was breaking me apart just to put me back together. Like he needed to destroy every inch of me before claiming what was left. And I let him.

The thick head of his cock pummeled my prostate with ruthless precision, ripping desperate, wrecked sounds from my throat. My body convulsed beneath him, muscles straining, vision tunneling as the pressure inside me coiled impossibly tight.

“Domino—” His name was a prayer, a plea, a surrender.

I was on the edge of oblivion, teetering between pain and rapture, between madness and salvation.

With one final savage thrust, he shattered me.

The heat of his release seared into my core, marking me, branding me from the inside out. My spine arched off the bed, my head snapping back as my orgasm detonated, white-hot and annihilating.

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