Page 18 of Bite Me

He breached me without warning, jolting a moan out of me when a single finger thrust deep inside me. I tilted my hips, giving him more access, pressing both palms so hard against the wall my arms quivered. He pushed another finger past my rim.

Every nerve ending in my body caught fire, electrifying me as he torqued his fingers, working me open in merciless circles. I bit down hard on my lip, trying to stifle another moan and failing. The alcove was tiny, barely enough room for the two of us plus the stupid skeleton. It kept rattling when we accidentally kicked or bumped into it.

We both tensed at the sound of voices nearby, some couple bickering over which way to go, but Chet, like a sadist, didn’t stop what he was doing, just slowed the pump of his fingers and curled them, pushing ever deeper while his thumb teased my rim.

“Oh god,” I groaned, and didn’t even try to control the volume of my voice because fuck it, between the intermittent screams and chainsaw noises, what was one more guy being murdered? Even if it was by fingerfuck rather than a knife.

I squeezed my eyes shut and managed to get a hand around my shaft. Chet dragged his teeth over my jaw and exhaled a dirty chuckle that made my cock jump in my fist.

“Knew this would do it for you,” he murmured. I heard him rustling behind me, and then he smacked the hot tip of his dick against my asscheek before pressing it into my crack. “Want this dick in your ass?” It was all I could do not to beg like the little slut he already knew I was. “Tell me.”

“Do it already,” I snarled, meaning for it to come out like a gruff order, but yeah, it definitely sounded like a plea. I wasfive seconds from nutting if he didn’t change it up, though, so I forgave myself. “Fucking come on!”

The problem was Chet got off on driving me up the wall, loved nothing more than to see my jaw clenched while I struggled to keep it together.

Another torturous handful of seconds passed where he used my ass crack as a stand-in for my hole, and then I heard the snap of a cap and opened my eyes. “Where the fuck did you stash a bottle of lube?”

“I didn’t.Fuck,” he bit out as the cool liquid hit my crack and he drove his cock through it.

“What is it, then?” As it turned out, out-of-context objects were great at providing a cooling-off period. The threat of blowing my load receded, replaced by curiosity.

“Does it fucking matter, Farrow? You want me to fuck you, or you want to sip some tea and play Sherlock Holmes?”

“Both. Definitely.” I tried to crane a look over my shoulder and see what the fuck he was doing. The texture felt like lube.

I was pretty sure he sighed then, even if just internally. “It’s fake blood.”

“Oh.” My mouth opened, then closed. I’d forgotten it’d been back here with the skeleton in case I needed to freshen it up during my shift. Before I could ask any of the myriad of questions flitting through my mind—or maybe because he knew they were coming—Chet glided his tip over my hole and rocked up and down my seam before pushing all the way in without even waiting a second for me to get used to him. It was his way of shutting me up, and it worked. The stretch burned through me like wildfire, incinerating any question, protest, or hesitation I might’ve had and making my legs shake. I spat out a shaky curse as he bottomed out, held for a beat, then slowly withdrew, only to do it again, flexing his hips until I was flush against the wall.

“Goddamn, baby,” he said, and I didn’t have to see his face to know his lips were pulled back from his teeth, jaw tense with the heat enveloping him. His fingers slid through the strands of my hair and fisted them, tugging at the ends. “Fucking love this ass.”

Getting fucked by Chet was like being split open and rewired from the inside out, and I lost myself in the sensation of being owned ruthlessly. Air punched from my lungs in sharp bursts timed to his thrusts, and my eyes rolled back in my head. My dick chafed against my tunic, but at least it wasn’t rubbing against the concrete wall. When his pace quickened and he started fucking me harder, I got my hand around it again, letting his momentum force me to fuck my own fist.

“That tight hole is about to make me cum,” he rasped, nearly lifting me onto the tips of my toes with the force of his thrust. He clutched at me as if he wanted to carve his presence into my bones. His nails scratched up my torso, mapping their course with stinging devotion. My skin was alive with him, buzzing and humming with scratches, bruises, and the sticky smear of fake blood.

I wanted to tell him to go harder. Or slower. Or just to never stop. But none of those words happened. All I could do was swing back against him desperately and take him deeper, hoping my legs didn’t give out while he railed me like a savage trying to hammer me through the wall. It was frantic and discombobulated, and I started losing my shit. I cursed and moaned every time his cock plowed into me, all too aware of the throbbing ache in my balls, the spike of desire for him that hadn’t faded even a little.

“That’s it, fuck. Milk it.Goddamn,” Chet gritted out, the words breaking around what I was doing to him, what he was doing to me. Then he rammed in so deep I swear I glimpsed Jesus’s robes.

There were worse ways to go.

8

CHET

Only one person on earth could make me come undone like this, and it was the man in front of me. My Achilles and eternal Achilles heel. He would always be my weakness as much as he’d be my strength.

I thrust into Mark over and over, riding a self-imposed line of torture and pleasure, orgasm and denial, need and desire that burned through me. Two sides of the same coin. Knowing I was giving him as much as I was taking, knowing he’d do the same for me.

He needed this release the same way I did. We had plenty of lazy days lolling in bed making love. I didn’t know if it was the atmosphere, the earlier events with his dad, or some combination, but tonight we both just wanted to get fucked. So I was going to make damn sure I upheld my end of the bargain.

I bit Mark’s jaw, then his throat, just to hear his breath catch. He was panting, his pulse a drumline under my tongue. For a guy who liked pretending he wasn’t the prey, his body sure was giving him away.

Nails digging trenches into the skin at his hips, I slammed back in. Mark braced one arm against the cinderblocks, cheekstill mashed against the wall. Veins popped in his neck, like every inch of him was straining for me, hungry for whatever I dished out. The sight of him like that struck me as so fucking profane my balls tightened up.

He canted his head a little, looking back at me over his shoulder. Chestnut curls were plastered to his temple with sweat, and his eyes were dark and feral. A livid red scrape bloomed over his eyebrow from when I had pinned him the first time.

He flashed me a dazed smirk, and I spiraled.