Page 50 of Hymns of the Broken
His finger slides lower, teasing, parting me with maddening slowness before pressing in. I gasp, my hips jerking into his hand like they’ve got a mind of their own. My hands come up to grip his shirt, pulling him closer to me.
“Fuck,” he breathes, right before his lips crash onto mine. The kiss is brutal, all teeth and tongue, like my mouth is the only thing keeping him from growling out loud.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he mutters against my lips. “So fucking wet…” His finger curls inside me, making my eyes roll back and knees buckle.
He catches me with the hand still wrapped around my throat, gripping me tighter, holding me upright, keeping me still like I’m some instrument he’s intent on playing until I break apart in his hands.
I can’t think. I can’t breathe. It feels too good—he feels too good.
How does he already know how to touch me like this?
Like he’s mapped my body in his head and knows every weak spot.
His thumbfinds my clit and presses. I nearly cry out, biting my lip to stop the sound, but he feels it. He grins against my mouth while his finger fucks into me, curling just right.
“Say it,” he growls, voice sharp and jagged. “Say who you belong to.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Just a strangled, breathless moan that he swallows with another kiss.
So he punishes me for it. A second finger slides in.
“Oh, my God—”
“You don’t get to call him now,” Jasper snarls, his voice almost angry against my ear. “You moan like that? That’s for me, Sawyer. Always me.”
His fingers curl deeper, hitting something inside me that makes my vision blur. My breaths are short, ragged gasps, my body trembling like it doesn’t know how to hold all this heat.
“Please,” I finally whisper, too far gone to care. “Please, Jasper—”
His lips curve into a dark, crooked grin the instant I beg. “Good girl.”
The words shoot straight through me, and the praise ignites something in me. He says it as if he owns me; owns this orgasm, building like a wave that’s about to break, and to be honest, he does.
“Now…hurry and cum for me, Sawyer, before somebody sees how hard I can make you fall apart with just my fingers.”
He drives them harder, faster, wrecking me in a rhythm that feels dangerous. My nails dig into his shirt as my hips grind against his hand. And still—it isn’t enough. I need more.
“I want them off,” I gasp, clawing at the waistband of my shorts, trying to push them down.
“No,” he bites out. “Not here. Not like this. When I take them off,” his voice dips, sinful, “it’ll be when I have time to fucking ruin you the way you deserve.”
Then his fingers slam into me again, faster, curling and pressing. Each thrust is more relentless than the last, making me cry out, hips jerking, body arching as he pumps into me with brutal precision. Every thrust of his fingers feels like it’s tearing me apart in the best possible way.
“I canfeel how close you are,” he grits, voice ragged with want. “So fucking tight around my fingers. So wet for me. You gonna cum in your shorts like a good girl?”
I nod. I'm helpless and panting, my body seconds from shattering.
“Then cum.” His breath ghosts across my lips, hot and commanding. “Cum for me on five, Little Demon.”
I choke on air. “What—” His fingers don’t stop. They move in slow, devastating thrusts inside me, curling perfectly, his palm grinding over my clit with every motion. Absolute torture.
“One…” The word drops from his mouth like a warning, low and dark, coiled with control. I feel myself clench around his fingers.“Don’t you dare.”
I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.
“Two.”
His tongue flicks against my ear, making my whole body tighten. “You’re already trembling.”
