“Don’t you?”
He lunges up over me on thick, rigid arms, his shirt sleeves rolled up to show tendons bulging beneath tanned skin. His eyes are hollow again, teeming with absolutely nothing. “No.” His voice is unsettlingly calm. “The one time I…I didn’t…”
With my eyes still trained on his, I reach down to grasp the weight of his cock and then press it into the sticky mess of my *. I buck up just once in invitation.
Aeron stares down at me. “You want to fuck a killer? That what you want?”
“I do fuck a killer.”
“But not one like him.” Inch by inch, he slides in. He feels bigger, as if something between us has grown. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You not afraid of me enough anymore…?”
I can’t look at him.
I can’t listen.
All I can do is feel…and he gives me enough of that.
No one has ever fucked me quite so hard. He shoves my thighs back, my legs up, and each thrust lands deeper, deeper until there’s nowhere else to go. The bed hammers against the wall in a staccato rage; we twist atop it, shuddering and angry. He’s always furious, even when he slows down, but this…he’s lost to any kind of reason, and I plummet down into the gutter right with him because the most terrifying thing in this moment is that he might leave me behind. I keep unconsciously jerking away from the punishing drive of his cock—my body knows to escape this, that to stay will be damaging—and yet he delights in holding me down. I shouldn’t have wound him up so much, but ah…when it results in this kind of full-to-bursting, scissor’s-edge-of-sweetness pain, I can’t regret it.
Aeron leans down to hiss into my ear. “You want my hands around your throat? My knife up inside you? Is that what it takes, now?”
“No.” The word is a desperate wail. A genuine one. The mere thought fills me with horror, and yet coming from his mouth, the idea is…I don’t want to hear it again. I might not be able to refuse.
Too much. I can’t take the violent intrusion of him anymore, or the way the wound in my side keeps scraping against the papers. I’ve tried to hold in my whimpers for fear that Ethan or Ash will hear, but now they come spilling out like the wraiths they are. Aeron slams one big hand over my mouth and the other kneads my hip until I stay in place for him; then he’s ruthless, tearing into me over and over, an arrogant smile claiming his shadow-soaked face as I tighten in the build-up to orgasm.
“My little lion can’t tell the difference between fear and desire anymore,” he gasps into the darkness. “What a selfish thing you are.”
I close my eyes. Music seeps under the door from far, far away.
“You’re afraid to come right now, huh? Afraid it will hurt.” He grunts then, a stuttered, warped choke of a sound. “Afraid it will make you so…much…worse than before.”
I paw at the back of his shirt, silently begging. Harder, faster. Make it harder or just make it stop.
Aeron’s thrusts turn shorter. Sharper. He’s trying to hold off. “But you’re mine, Leo. You come when I say you come. You don’t have a choice.”
My thighs go lax around his waist. Maybe if I pretend I’m not present in this body, he won’t—
“Come for me.” He draws out all the way and then slams back in, biting his lip as my cry steams into his palm. “It’s all I want to see, baby. Fuck, just—”
I can’t contain it any longer. I come in long shudders, pleasure blooming through my pelvis to kiss every sore nerve and bruised muscle; there’s relief and denial and triumph, and they stutter out in a series of rough sobs.
“—Good girl.”
Then he’s back over me. We’re united in this black brand of bliss, and he’s utterly unashamed of his bitten-out curses. He spits each fuck across my shoulder, letting them skid along like bullets until they bury themselves in his spotless white pillows.