Page 48 of Collision of Winters
“But it’s also nice to have sex in a warm bed,” he mumbled.
I hummed. “I’m not aiming for nice.”
He inched back, and his eyes flashed with the same internal storm I’d battled all day.
It was time to see how much of a CNC-loving masochist he was.
“Coat me with spit—unless you want me to fuck you dry,” I commanded quietly.
Motherfucker, the way his already hungry stare ignited with submission would live rent-free in my brain for as long as I drew breath. He didn’t hesitate for a second. He squirmed around and dropped down, sucking my cock into his mouth as if his life depended on it.
Christ, just like that. I grunted and pushed deeper, and I leaned forward to slip two fingers between his ass cheeks. He turned a little to give me better access, and I rewarded him by easing a finger inside him.
InsideKayden. I shivered, not necessarily from the cold.
He sucked me strongly and wetly, and I groaned when he took me to the back of his throat.
“Right there—that’s where I belong.” I fisted his hair and started fucking his mouth, and the boy moaned around me.My baby brother, my boy, my little one.“Fuck.” I gnashed my teeth and pulled away abruptly. And before he was ready, I manhandled him into position for me. Back on all fours, hands hitting the wet ground. He yelped as I slapped my cock against his bottom, and I rubbed it over his tight hole.
He was already panting—and whimpering. A sound that drove me fucking insane.
Slow inch by slow inch, I forced myself inside him, and he tensed up and pushed back.
“Ow,” he gasped. “More, please—ouch, fuck. Ow!”
“Take it.” I spoke through clenched teeth and thrust forward another inch or two. “I want you to hurt for me—and only me.”
I couldn’t look away. I stared hungrily as my cock disappeared deeper and deeper into him, cementing our future. I was going to be possessive as fuck of him.
“Jesus fuck,” I breathed. All in. Balls deep.
Urgency surged within me, and I didn’t give him much time to adjust. I eased out only to push in once more.
Back and forth, over and over, with my pelvis smacking against his pale bottom, I fucked him to hurt him, to claim him, and to feed my sadism with his breathless cries.
It turned out, he was a crier. And a beggar.
“Hurt me more,” he croaked. “I need it.”
I dug my fingertips into his hips and forced him to meet my thrusts by pulling him back roughly on me, and it stripped him of the last remnants of composure. His groaned screams pierced the air and filled my lungs with power and greed.
All fucking mine—he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d be mine to own, to rapefuck, to discipline, to spoil, to…to take care of.
I pushed up his jacket, revealing half his back—in a perfect fucking arch—and I raked my blunt fingernails along his spine.
“Ow! Mother of fuck!” he sobbed.
I exhaled harshly and tilted my head back, and I kept pounding his sweet ass.
Rain smattered across my face. Every breath misted in the air.
He was goddamn perfect.
Even when he was in pain, he sought out more.
I gave it to him.
And a little bit more than that.
