Page 27 of Beyond Hate (Beyond #3)

Everything I was so sure I couldn’t live without now that I’d had it.

I dropped my blood-slicked fingers to his cock and took hold of him without warning, and his back arched off the bed when I stroked up in a slow line, painting his shaft crimson.

London’s eyes were wide, almost luminous in the darkness of the room, as he lifted his hands and trailed them along his blood-streaked cheeks, through his hair. They dropped to his chest, and he whined. He ran his fingers through the cut and smeared the red across his skin, and I growled.

And when he lifted his hand and pressed it to my chest, leaving a faint red print of his outspread fingers, I completely lost it.

I dropped between his legs, shoving them open without warning, and buried my face against his ass. I was going to die if I didn’t taste him—I needed to fuck him open with my tongue, needed to feel it when he came around me. His cock was already so hard in my hand that I knew it wouldn’t take long.

London squirmed above me, and my fingers digging into his hip hard enough to leave bruises was probably the only thing that kept him still as I worked my tongue against his hole, circling the rim in perfect time with the way I worked my wrist against his cock.

It was too natural to drive him crazy like this—addictive and all new. I’d never had this with Nikki.

I’d never done this with Nikki. He’d always done this to me .

Now it was London and the beautiful little punched-out noises he made when I stiffened my tongue and worked the tip into his entrance with a low growl that sent his back shooting off the bed.

When my hand came down hard, slapping against his thigh, he let out a startled little cry that broke off on a moan. I forced his legs up, exposing his ass and giving me perfect access, so this time the crack of the smack came down on one of his cheeks.

“Otto, oh, fuck .” His fingers clenched on the sheets, and his hole gave my tongue a little squeeze, like he was warning me that if I really wanted to, I could probably make him come just from this alone.

As tempting as it was, I knew I needed more. I needed him to completely fall apart. That didn’t stop me from taking a break from licking and lapping at him to turn my head and bite—the red marks my teeth left on his thigh were tantalizing, and his cock in my hand gave a little pulse.

“Fuck, I could make you come like this… hurting you. Making you bleed. Marking you up.” I spilled forward again, licking another stripe along his hole before fastening my mouth against his entrance. I wanted to feel it—I needed it.

And London didn’t disappoint. His breath came faster, his cock in my hand swelled.

The little litany of him crying out my name over and over again in an attempted warning that he was close was ignored.

I speared my tongue inside him, and groaned when his body tightened and his muscles clenched as he cried out above me.

He started to pulse in my hand, and the heat of his orgasm spilled over my fingers, landing wetly on his stomach and chest. I stroked him greedily, my mouth hungry as I tongue fucked him through the waves.

I pulled back, sucking another angry red mark against his ass as I did, and surveyed what I’d done.

He looked debauched. Blood and cum painted his stomach, and his hole had the slightest little gape. He was slicked with saliva, dripping and drenched… and all along his thighs and ass were little marks of red from my teeth and hands.

I could have lived in the way he looked, the way his blue eyes were almost all pupil as he glanced up at me through his thick lashes.

Just the sight of me staring and the feel of me stroking gently along those marks made his cock twitch and spill another little burst of cum against his stomach.

I leaned down one more time to run my tongue along his worked hole, shuddering in satisfaction when he tried to squirm away from me.

Sensitive—so sensitive.

His body was shivering, and he was trying to draw in enough breath to whisper some kind of praise or thanks, but I turned my head and bit his thigh again, hard enough this time that I tasted blood on my tongue.

The cry that tore from his chest was a beautiful melody of pain and want , and I rose on my knees before he had a chance to catch his breath and carefully ran my fingers through the mess of cum and blood on his chest.

“You’re so dirty for me, rabbit. All messed up, with your heart beating so loud I think I can taste it on the back of my tongue.

You look like you’re all fucked out.” I slid my fingers through the mess one more time, gathering up enough on my digits that I could completely soak my hand in that sinful mixture. “But we’re not finished yet.”

“W-what? Otto, I—mmfh.” Whatever he was going to say broke off in a little whining cry as I dropped my fingers between his legs and thrust one digit into his already spit-slicked hole.

I was sure there were better ways to do this—sweeter ways.

I was sure there would be a time when I’d take him apart piece by piece, fuck him open slowly and steadily until he was a shivering, shaking mess who was begging me to come.

This wasn’t one of those times, and the low groan as I worked my blood and cum drenched finger inside him for a few strokes before adding a second told me he didn’t mind.

It left me room to trail my tongue along the curve of his hip, to drag the tip across the filthy line of his chest before rising up so I could press my lips to his.

I wanted him to taste himself and all the ways I was going to wreck him.

I wanted to drink down the sound of his cries when I shifted my wrist, gathering up more of the mess on his stomach so I could fuck it into him harder, faster, twisting to peg his prostate until I could feel him trembling beneath me.

“Otto, I can’t, I… oh, please.” He moaned against my mouth, and I rewarded him with a sharp bite to his lip before dropping to his throat to set my teeth carefully against the curve of his shoulder.

When I bit down hard enough to leave a mark, he nearly came up off the bed again, and I felt his ass clench around me in warning. It made me pause.

“Don’t you dare come until I tell you to.

” To punctuate the demand, I dragged my fingers out of him slowly, feeling every nerve in his body seem to follow along with the motion.

London threw his head back like it was the only way he was going to manage to give in to my demands, and it left his neck and collarbone open for me to bring my lips down again.

I fucked him with the sweet mixture of his pain and pleasure while I focused on sucking bruises along that pale skin, leaving bite marks in between that made him hiss and cry out.

By the time I’d made it to the other side of his neck and my fingers had shifted so they were focused solely on pressing and working against his prostate, London was shivering and twitching, his muscles spasming as he tried to take short, shallow breaths.

“Otto… Otto… please… please, please, let me…” I could barely understand what he was saying through the soft, gasping sobs, and when I raised my head, the sight of his lashes clinging wetly to his cheeks almost undid me.

I leaned forward and ran my lips along his cheek, my tongue sliding out to trace the little trails of salt and desperation that tracked his skin.

“Please what?” With my mouth pressed so close, I could almost feel the heat as it flooded his face.

“Please… can’t… I can’t… I need to come. I need it. I—” My fingers rocked into him again, and my free hand slid up the length of his body, tangling in his hair and pulling sharp enough that it forced his eyes open, forced him to look at me.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

London didn't hesitate. “I’m yours.”

I leaned in, running my nose along his jawline and biting again, leaving another little red mark against his perfect skin.

“I’m the only one who gets to touch you, the only one who gets to hurt you. I’m the only reason you cry, London.” My fingers picked up their pace, and the desperate panting of his breath was almost too much to resist. “I’m the only person who gets to break you.”

“Just you… Otto, please. Please. ”

And then, because I couldn’t resist… I pulled out of him altogether and sat back on my knees.

The choked little sound that ripped from him played havoc with my nerves, and he stared up at me with a dazed expression.

“Why?”

“Shh.” I shifted, using my clean hand to run through the blood slicking my chest, along the mess on his, and then dropped my fingers to stroke my cock.

He watched the movement like a starved man, and I tilted my head as I looked over what I’d done.

The cut on his chest—the bite marks on his neck and thighs.

It still wasn’t enough.

Some part of me still wanted to flay him wide, but for now…

“Spread your legs, London. Let me see you dripping with blood and cum for me.”

He groaned, but trembling fingers slid down the length of his body and grabbed his thighs. He spread himself wide and I could see it—the ooze of crimson spilling from his slightly gaping hole, the way he clenched on the air as though just me watching was nearly enough to send him over the edge.

“Otto, please. Fuck me. I want you to break me until you’re the only thing I know.

” And then, like he knew he had to do something to push me over the edge, London slid his fingers down and circled the rim of his hole, thrusting one in and pulling so a little more of the mess I’d pushed inside him slowly slid out.

Fuck.

He really was too much.