I glance over my shoulder at him. “Your brother fucks harder, need me to teach you how?”
His eyes narrow as I smirk at him. “What’s wrong, Ry?” I lick my lips and push back, taking him deeper. “No quick come back? No demands or orders? Gotta say, I’m disappointed…you promised to hurt me. Guess it was all talk, alpha,” I gibe.
That breaks him. He slams inside of me so hard and fast, it does hurt, making me cry out. His hand darts out and wraps around my throat, squeezing as he leans down and bites my ear. “You want it to hurt? You want me to stop looking after you?”
He’s clutching my throat so hard, I can’t breathe.
“Fine, you think you can take it, love? Prove it.” He pulls out of me and lets go of my throat. Yanking me up, he spins me so fast, my head whirls and I stumble.
He doesn’t care, he drags me over to the window and smashes me into the glass. A sharp pain goes through my injured ribs, and when he grabs my hands and slams them to the window above me, my injured shoulder and finger twinges. The pain melts through me, turning to pleasure, my cream dripping down my thighs.
His hands go to my hips, and he jerks me back, palming my ass as he pushes back inside me again with quick, hard thrusts, not gentle now. He forces his cock into my ass over and over until I’m being pounded against the glass.
But it’s not enough for him.
His hand strokes down my side, those elegant fingers tracing my ribs, and then he squeezes, squeezes the still aching, healing ribs until I scream in pain, shuddering around him. It makes him groan as he fills me with his cock. “Fuck, love, you scream so sweetly. No wonder D loves it.”
I can’t help it, the pain fades to pleasure, especially when he reaches around and rubs my clit, driving me back to that peak again, even as my body protests the fucking.
But suddenly, he pulls out again, leaving me cold and shivering against the glass as I wobble on unsteady feet. My ass is sore, my ribs hurt, and my pussy throbs like a heartbeat, dripping my cream as I slowly come back from the edge of release. Turning my head, I watch as he strides over to the table in the corner, his fingers running over the objects there. “I wonder, Roxy, just how far are you willing to go?” He looks over at me, dragging his eyes down my body. “Just how far can I push you? Hurt you?”
He grabs a bottle of fancy water from the side, and I freeze, wide-eyed, as he comes back to me, kicking open my legs and pressing it to my pussy. “Thought you could handle it, love?” he taunts, as he slams it inside me. I scream at the burst of pain followed by a whimper as he grips my hips and pushes back into my ass. The bottle and his cock stretch me so much, it borders on agony. He keeps me there, riding that fine line as he starts to move.
He keeps the bottle still, my pussy clamping around it as he slams in and out of my ass, making me ride the object. It feels so fucking wrong, so goddamn dirty, but good. I’m so full, I can’t even think, barely breathe.
“Ry, God,” I cry out, feeling the bottle slip farther inside me with each punishing thrust of his cock in my ass.
“If they look up, they can see you, love, see you getting fucked, knowing you belong to us as you scream into the night,” he snarls into my ear, biting down afterwards and making me jerk back onto his cock.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, Ryder,” I beg, shaking my head. It’s too much. The sensations are overwhelming me, the cool glass against the front of my body at odds with the heat of his body behind me. The round bottle fills me, stretching me, and makes my ass that much tighter for his huge cock. Every movement is pain and pleasure. I want to stop it, yet I can’t get enough.
He’s making me ride that edge. The edge he always rides.
But I meant what I said, he could never hurt me. Even now, even when his hands dent my hips, his cock forces my ass to stretch around him, and the bottle he shoved inside me makes me wince. I still want it.
Want more.
Want everything.
When his strong, sure fingers wrap around my throat, anchoring me as he pounds into me, I lose it. My eyes close, stars bursting behind them. I can’t hear over my own heartbeat, and between one thrust and the next, I explode.
He snarls into my ear as he reaches down and, as I’m in the throes of release, yanks the bottle from my pussy and slams it back in. One orgasm tumbles into the next, pulled from me on his command. He fucks me through them, keeping me on that edge until he can’t take it anymore.
He slams into me, grinding down as he does, filling my ass to the hilt as he groans. I feel him explode inside me, my pussy aching now as he slowly extracts the bottle and tosses it away.
I feel raw, sore, and used.
And oh so fucking satisfied. A smile curls my lips, even as I slump into the glass, breathing heavily. He presses along my back, wrapping an arm around my middle as he helps me stand, both of us sweaty and trembling with aftershocks.
“Christ, Roxy,” he groans, licking and kissing my cheek. “How did I get so lucky?”
“Sometimes you gotta steal a few girls before you meet the right one,” I tease, voice low and husky from my screams.
He chuckles breathlessly and groans when it jerks him inside me. “Love, I steal things every fucking day, I’m a goddamn mobster, but you? You’re the best thing I ever stole, and I plan on showing you that for the rest of our lives, until you get bored with us and try to kill us.”
“Try?” I taunt. “Bitch, please, we both know there would be no try.”
He laughs again. “Admit it, love, we stole your heart.”
“Nah, you stole my pussy.” I laugh, even as I melt back against him. “Orgasms are the way to a woman’s heart though…”
“Well, I better get to work,” he murmurs.
Chapter Sixty
GARRETT
“You sure you’re okay, baby?” I ask, and she licks her lips and nods.
I was sent in here to check on her. We are all dressed and ready, but everyone can wait until she’s ready to go. We only told her yesterday that today would be Sam’s funeral. She liked him, and we knew this would be hard for her, but it’s important we go. Her black dress is modest and falls just below her knees, her leather boots leading up to meet the hem. Her makeup is kept to a minimum, but her necklace, which she never takes off, is the only colour. She looks fucking beautiful without even trying.
And sad.
She liked Sam, she had become friends with him even, though we threatened him. And now he’s dead, and his funeral is today. I know she’s struggling and she feels guilty, blaming herself and missing him. She needs comfort right now, and I’m not the best choice for that, but she has no one else here right now, so me it is.