Page 74 of Bitter When He Begs

I can feel his grin turning predatory against my skin. Then he’s on me again, his hands gripping my thighs and lifting me effortlessly before he carries me across the room and drops me onto his bed.

I barely have time to catch my breath before he’s crawling over me, his body hot and solid as he presses me into the mattress. “You gonna let me ruin you, Sage?”

I swallow hard, my hands splaying across his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath my fingertips. It’s so fucking unfair how good he looks, how effortlessly perfect he always is.

“You already have,” I mutter, and his grin turns wicked, his hands sliding up to my face, tilting my chin so he can kiss me slower this time.

His lips move teasingly against mine, his tongue fucking my mouth deeply and fingers threading through my damp hair. He pulls back just enough to look at me, his gaze flicking over my face like he’s trying to burn this moment to memory.

“You’re mine now,” he says, that same tone of possession in his voice from a few months ago. “You fucking hear me, Sage?”

“No,” I answer, my fingers curling around the back of his neck as I pull him down. “You’remine.”

Luca freezes above me, his breath catching like I just short-circuited something in him. His eyes stay locked on mine for a beat too long, and I know he didn’t expect me to say something like that.

Not me. Not the nerd who used to barely hold his gaze when he stalked toward me with a smug smirk. Not the twink who used to blush and backpedal every time he opened his filthy mouth.

But I’m not backing down this time; I mean it. He’s mine.

I think he likes the sound of it, because the next thing I know, he’s surging back down to kiss me—messy, desperate, andalmost too much. His hands are everywhere, gripping my sides and leaving bruises. I feel the weight of him, the heat, the raw pressure in the way he grinds against me, and the wild thing is—I don’t feel overwhelmed.

I feel wanted. Claimed. Like this storm he’s been holding in for months is finally breaking, and I’m the only one he’s letting get caught in it.

He breaks off the kiss and his lips trail down over my chest, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth and biting down, only to soothe the sting after.

“Been thinking about this since the first time you sassed me,” he mutters, his voice muffled as he trails lower. “Wanted to put you in your fucking place right from the start.”

A breathless laugh escapes me, even as my fingers clench in the sheets. “And what place is that?”

“Right here,” he says, his voice pure fucking sin. “Under me. Begging.”

He moves again, sliding up my body, his mouth pressing against my stomach, my ribs, my chest—kissing and biting and licking his way back to my lips. When he kisses me again, I can taste his smirk, taste his arrogance, taste the victory he thinks he’s already won.

It makes me want to fucking ruin him.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but that’s never stopped me before, and it sure as shit isn’t stopping me now.

“Then show me,” I dare him, my voice sharper than I mean it to be, but fuck it—I’m already stripped down to nothing. “Stop talking.”

His eyes flare, and for a second, I think I’ve pushed him too far. But then he grins.Thatgrin.

The one that promises pain or pleasure, but I want both.

Then he’s grinding against me again, slow and hard like he wants to carve his name into the outline of my body. His fingerstrail down my stomach, past my hips, and then he’s wrapping a hand around both of our cocks, stroking us together.

I choke on a moan, bucking up into his grip, the friction dizzying. He shifts, one hand braced on my chest, pinning me down.

I snarl, grab him by the hair, and yank him down into another kiss—rough and desperate, teeth and spit and all the filth we’ve become. I kiss him like I’m trying to shut him up. He kisses me back like he owns me.

“You’re cute when you try to top from the bottom,” he says, not even pretending to be fair.

And then, without warning, he spits in my mouth.

It’s hot and obscene, and I hate how fast my cock jumps, how my whole body locks up. The taste of him hits my tongue, and I don’t even flinch. I just lay there, gasping, staring up at him like I’ve just been knocked out and I’m grateful for it.

Heat floods through me, shame and arousal burning hot in my belly, and I swallow it down without thinking.

“Good boy. Didn’t think you’d take it so well,” he murmurs, voice dripping with smug amusement, his fingers trailing down my neck to rest on my throat, right where my pulse is going ballistic. “Guess the nerd’s a fucking whore for it.”