Page 216 of Entangled

My heart tells me we need to try something else.

It takes everything in me to pry my fingers from around his wrist and lower them submissively to my side.

“I don’t need to run from you.”

Jayk flashes me his teeth in a terrifying caricature of a smile. “Yes, sugar. You do.”

He slams me onto my back by my throat, and begins tearing at his belt, then his zipper. I squirm under his hand as he yanks out his thick, heavy cock. This close, I see the fat vein running up the side—every swollen, florid, angry inch of him.

“You take everyone else’s dick tonight, you’re taking mine too.”

Jayk moves up to straddle my chest, then his grip moves from my throat to my hair, grabbing a fistful at the roots. He lifts my head by my hair and drags it to his cock at a painful angle. Holding himself steady at the root with his other hand, he shoves into my mouth, so hard and deep that tears come to my eyes and my glasses slip down my nose.

In one adrenal part of my brain, I am terrified by him. My heart pounds and skids, and my palms sweat as he punches his hips forward, riding my face. My tongue pushes against his filling, scorching cock, and he only groans. It’s almost too much.

Almost.

Because the other part of me is stormed with need. That craves every punishing slide into my mouth and the scent of him all around me. Being overwhelmed, being made helpless by Jayk, is like being conquered by a divine adversary. I’m a reward I always want him to win.

Jayk hits my gag reflex again, and my tears spill over as I look up at him. He doesn’t stop for my tears. It’s not like Jasper, who savors their creation—Jayk just doesn’t seem to care. With both hands, he holds my head still as he fucks my throat the way he wants, using me even as I choke and writhe under him.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Adrenaline rises in time with my desire. He’s taken my mouth before, of course, but not this roughly. I know I could slap his legs, and he’d stop right now, but I haven’t mademypoint yet. He can’t scare me away. He’s not too much, or too awful, or too base, or any of the things he’s convinced himself of.

If I have to go through a trial for that, then so be it.

Particularly ifthisis the trial.

If I stopped him, I wouldn’t have the throbbing weight of him in my mouth. The taste of his precum spilling over my tongue and consecrating my throat. I wouldn’t have freeing tears dripping off my chin or his scent filling my nose.

“Fuck,” he groans as I look up at him through blurry tears. “Your mouth is mine. Your throat is mine. All of this.Mine.”

He buries himself to the hilt, holding my head close to him, and I choke, my nails finding the firm skin of his abdomen as dark spots haze my vision.

Then he pulls himself free, his cock drenched in my saliva, and I cough hoarsely, trying to breathe. With harsh, angry motions, he turns me over and yanks my dress up.

Fear pricks me now. I can’t see him, and he’s dead silent except for his rough, fast breaths. His demanding hand reaches for the plug, and instinct takes over.

I lunge forward, trying to crawl out from under him.

“No,” he snaps.

He grabs my hips and pulls me backwards in a short, careless move, then plants a forearm across my shoulders. He shoves me down with it, holding me forcefully against the brittle, cracking leaves with his weight.

“I’m done being the good guy here, Eden. It doesn’t suit me anyway. You come to me soaked in another man’s cum, fucking taunting me with it, you’re going to get fucked. I’m going to erase them from your fucking skin. They’re not giving me your ass, sugar. It’s alreadymine.”

I’m shuddering with need, and my throat is tight with anxiety. I try to move free, but he’s pinned me too securely. All it does is rub the back of my thighs against his rough jeans.

His hand finds the crevice of my ass, then tugs at the plug, yanking it free with little ceremony until it pops out and he throws it to the side. I gasp at the sudden release of pressure. My clit aches, begging for attention it’s not receiving, but so overwhelmed from its earlier attention, I’m not sure it could handle it if it did get it.

He spreads my ass wide and makes a crude, dark sound of satisfaction. “Whatever they fucking prepared you for, sugar, it sure as shit wasn’t this.”

Rough and crude, he spits against my gaping, puckered hole, and I feel the wet saliva dripping into me and all around the cleft of my ass. His unforgiving fingers return quickly, working his spit into me with fast, invasive pumps.

I shake hard at the abrupt assault. It’s not quite slick. Not the slippery ease of when I had the plug. Each pump has resistance, a little tug to it that both frightens and exhilarates me.

I whimper, caught, unable to do anything but let him work me savagely, and the fear in me increases. Starts to surpass my neediness, just a little.

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