Page 154 of Bitter Poetry

I’ve been dealt enough punishment fucks by Christian to know how this will go.

Worse, I want it: his anger; his hard, beautiful cock inside me, taking away all my thoughts and worries. Making me forget tomorrow, and my own name. Something is broken inside me. I don’t know when it happened or if it has always been there, but I crave rough domination.

“Go ahead. Punish me. Try to hurt me. Want to know a secret? You won’t. I enjoy it too much.”

His face registers shock, like he can’t believe what he just heard.

I can’t believe I said it either, but I also can’t deny it carries the ring of truth. I’ve spent a year conditioning myself for them, for this, for now—thinking about Christian or Dante to get me through pain. When I hurt, I go to a place in my head where one or both of them love me. They have been keeping me safe, protecting me, without even realizing it.

It’s twisted and sick.

“I was a good girl once, but events have long since broken me. Want to know another secret, Dante? I don’t want to be mended.”

I want to hate him for abandoning me. I want to hate Christian, too. They are gangsters, not heroes. But they’remygangsters,myobsessions, and they belong to me.

His mouth crashes over mine. It’s full of anger and bitterness for all that might have been and now never will. I welcome it. Then I part my legs and welcome the achy pleasure as his cock plunges into me, filling me, taking the emptiness away.

He fucks me hot, fast, and dirty, pounding me with rough, perfect strokes like he’s trying to exorcise my ghosts.

I rake my nails down his back.

His fingers close over my throat, pinning me to the bed as he fucks into me.

My groan is shameless bliss.

“Is that what you want, filthy girl? You want it rough?”

I’m teetering close to detonation, pushed closer by the savage mask of his face as he uses me. His cock is stabbing into me as though he’s trying to break me on it.

He won’t.

He can’t.

No one can break something that’s already been broken, but with every thrust, I feel myself being remade. Then he squeezes my throat. Just enough to add the dark edge that I crave.

A climax slams into me, sending me soaring. My ears ring, filling my consciousness with white noise as my pussy spasms and sparks a firestorm that explodes from my core outward across the surface of my skin. I feel the quickening, the surge of adrenaline as he nears his release, his cock seeming to grow harder and his strokes turning wild. His eyes are locked on mine, and his face is a perfect picture of savagery.

“Dante!” My next climax hits like a freight train slamming into me and dragging me under into spasmodic bliss.

He grunts. His hot cum fills me. And his strokes slow and stop.

“God! Fuck!” He blinks rapidly. “Fuck!”

His lips close over mine, kissing me, drugging me, his tongue in my mouth like he’s trying to consume me, stealing the last of my breath.

I give it to him gladly.

When he lifts his head, we are both breathing hard. His weight on me, pressing me down into the mattress, is sublime. The feeling of him inside me, more so.

His next kiss is gentle and tender. No. I can’t have that.

“You’re squashing me.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

DANTE

She slaps me across the face the moment I slide out of her. The crack of contact and the follow-up sting momentarily rob me of thought. While I’m still reeling, she slips from under me and stalks out of the room.