Page 28 of Shattered
Standing, he took off his jacket. My chest tightened, seeing the way his muscles stretched underneath his shirt. He offered me his hands. Pulled me up.
I shrank as his eyes explored me, searching for what he wanted. He brushed his fingertips along my bare arms, then traced them to my back. Chills erupted all over me.
“There’s more than one way to do breath play,” he said.
He reached down with one hand, his other palm gripping my hair. The click of his pants button coming undone was weighty between us. He knew what he wanted; he knew whatIwanted. I licked my lips, daring to glance down, watching his fingers pull down his zipper, his cock already pressing against his boxer briefs. A quiet whimper escaped my lips, and with that sound, he pushed me to my knees, making me face his cock. Long and thick and harder than steel. A cock that could bruise and mark and take. Right on his defined v-muscle, a black serpent stretched in a perfect circle, eating its own tail. Drawing me in. Like Rourke.
“Your tattoo,” I whispered. “What’s it mean?”
He pulled out his cock. The veins throbbed with the movement.
“Death, life. Rebirth.”
Simple, yet significant. It was the same with all creatures. We would all die one day. Rourke had told me that. What did it matter if Rourke took that control into his own hands?
What did it mean if Rourke let me live?
For a second, I envied Garrett. The commitment to a piece of art. Being able to control his own body. To mark what was his. But once he slammed his cock it into my mouth, I forgot about it. I gagged, my eyes burning, the pain worse than the candle wax dripping onto my skin, his cock swelling wider in my throat. I looked up at him, blinking away the tears, and with our eyes locked, he pinched my nose shut. Cutting off my air. What I needed to breathe.To live.
I revolted, pushing back against him instinctually, and he held me in place.
“You can survive for a few seconds,” he said, his voice eerily calm as I squeezed everything tight, trying desperately to force those reflexes to stop. I closed my eyes and counted, but then his cock twitched, making me gag again, and my sex clenched tight, not wanting to like this, wanting so badly to be repulsed, but knowing, deep down, that I loved it. That this was exactly what I needed, the distraction I had been looking for. To be so filthy and turned on that I only thought of in the moment. A way to forget about the screwed up things that had taken place over the last few weeks. To feel and forget. He loosened his grip on the back of my head, freeing my nostrils, and I gasped, my chest swelling with air like it was the last I would ever have. His cock gleamed with my saliva, and an evil grin spread on his plush lips.
“I could choke you until you passed out on my cock,” he said. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I didn’t even understand the question, I was so aroused and overstimulated and every vein in my body pulsed for more, only more. His lips opened, watching my chin nod.Yes.Being forced to give total control to a man who would use me however he wanted, that he controlled the very safety of my life.Yes, it thrilled me. That I had no choice. That I was utterly his.
He grabbed my hair again, this time fisting the strands, pulling at the roots and straining tighter, making my scalp ache, and forced my mouth down onto his cock. I gagged and thrashed, but he pulled me in tighter, forcing me down to the base of his cock. The scruff of his pubic hair on my lips. Hot tears ran down the sides of my face. My legs spread for stability and desire and the need to be fucked in every hole, like he was fucking my mouth. Warmth spread over my body, making it feel like I would melt and become a part of him.
When his rough fingertips sealed my nose again, I imagined they were gloved. Black leather on my skin. That coarse, earthy odor. Dirt and life and death. Rourke’s hands on me, forcing me onto his cock, his hands around my neck as he took what was his. Made it so that Mel and Melissa didn’t exist anymore. I was just a body. Conquered to my core. Those blank eyes knowing each depraved thought and urge inside of me and biting every desperate need until he devoured me whole.
“That’s it,” Garrett said. I blinked my eyes open and he yanked my head back. I swallowed up as much air as I could until he penetrated me again, fucking my face like he didn’t care about what I wanted. Because he didn’t care. This was his time, and I knew my place.
There was freedom to Garrett. He asked what he wanted to know, and he knew, without a doubt, what he wanted to do to me. He was willing to indulge in those desires and never asked to create an alternate fantasy. Because I was all he needed. I was Mel, the server he had paid to face fuck in a private room. There was no foolery necessary. Only genuine interactions.
But that freedom, that honesty, didn’t stop me from thinking about Rourke.
