Page 39 of Cruel When He Smiles (Sinners of Blackthorne U #3)

His breath leaves him in a startled gasp as his chest hits the mattress, and his arms fumble to catch himself. I shove his hips up hard, until he’s angled just how I want him—ass high, spine curved into something that begs to be bruised.

“What the fuck—” he starts, pushing up on his elbows, but I press a firm hand between his shoulder blades and force him back down.

“Stay the fuck down.” My voice is nothing like it was a second ago. Gone is the reverence and softness I let him see. If he wants this side of me, he’s going to fucking get it.

He grunts under the pressure of my hand, fingers clutching the sheets now like he’s not sure if he wants to squirm or grind back against me. I lean down, voice low in his ear. “You don’t get to brat your way out of this, Pup. You begged me to ruin you, remember?”

I sit back on my knees and yank his ass toward me, slapping it. His hole clenches when I spit down on it, and fuck if it isn’t the filthiest thing I’ve ever seen

“Liam,” he gasps, voice wrecked.

“Oh, now you want to use my name?” I laugh, grabbing his ass and spreading him wider. “You’ve got a fucked-up definition of topping from the bottom, baby.”

He tries to push back against me—instinct, maybe. Maybe defiance. I let him, just for a second. Just enough to feel him rock against my cock.

And then I grip his hips like handles and pull him back hard, forcing him flush against me.

“I’ll go soft again if you want. I’ll hold you. Kiss your throat. Tell you how pretty you sound when you moan.”

He shivers.

“Or you can take what you asked for and shut the fuck up while I destroy every inch of you.”

He whimpers, and I smile.

“That’s what I thought.”

I shove my pants down all the way, my cock hard, aching, and flushed deep red from being denied too long.

“Last chance,” I murmur. “Say stop and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t,” Nate breathes, voice shaking. “Don’t stop.”

I grab the lube I know is in the nightstand, slicking myself up, and I work him open until he’s a squirming mess beneath me.

My other hand wraps around the back of his neck, keeping him pressed to the mattress as I rub the head of my cock against his hole, teasing him, smearing the slick there but not pushing in.

Nate stiffens beneath me, his fingers clenching the sheets. “Liam—”

I push in with one long, relentless thrust, groaning as I sink deep, until I’m buried to the hilt inside him and he’s gasping like he’s being split in two. His body tightens around me like a fucking vise, hot and perfect, and I swear I black out for a second.

“Oh, fuck—” He gasps, his arms trembling, his head dropping forward.

His back arches when I bottom out, and I pull back just to thrust into him again, harder this time, dragging another wrecked sound from his lips. His breath is ragged, his thighs shaking, but he doesn’t fight me. He takes it, just like I knew he would.

I grip his hair, yanking his head back, forcing him to arch. He whimpers, his breath hitching as I roll my hips, grinding into him so deep he trembles beneath me.

“What a perfect fucking hole,” I grit out, dragging my lips down the side of his throat. His moan is high and broken, and I know I’ve got him exactly where I want him. “Tell me how much you love it, Pup.”

He shakes his head, his nails raking down the sheets. “N-no—”

I pull out almost completely, holding him there, making him feel the emptiness before I slam back inside, making him cry out.

“Say it,” I growl, my hips snapping against his, my grip bruising on his thighs. “Fucking say it, Nathaniel.”

He swallows hard, his breath shaky, his body completely wrecked beneath me. “I—I love it,” he finally whispers. “I love it when you—”

I snap my hips forward, making him groan. “When I what, baby?” I growl, lips brushing against his ear as I pull out again. “When I break you? When I ruin you?”

“Yes— fuck —yes, I love it,” he gasps, his voice barely more than a breathy whimper. “I love it when you f-fuck me like this. I love it when…when you m-make me.”

“That’s more like it,” I mutter, and without another word, I push inside again in one smooth, brutal thrust.

He cries out, his back arching when I angle my thrusts and hit his prostate. I groan when he clenches, my head falling forward, my grip on his hips tightening as I watch his tight, greedy hole swallow my cock.

His moans turn desperate, wrecked, and I know he’s close. I lean over him and slip my hand underneath him to grab his cock. “You gonna come for me, baby?” I taunt, stroking his swollen cock in time with my thrusts. “Gonna come just like this? Wrapped around my dick, taking everything I give you?”

“Fuck—”

“Go on,” I growl, biting down on his shoulder. “Show me who this body fucking belongs to.”

With a choked gasp, he unravels, his whole body shuddering as he spills over my hand, his head falling back against my shoulder as he whimpers through it.

His body clenches around me so fucking tight that I can’t hold back, can’t stop the way I bury myself one last time, letting out a pained groan.

I finally let go, my cock twitching as I fill him up.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is our ragged breathing, the faint creak of the bed as I press soft kisses along his shoulder.

I stay inside him for a moment, my body still buzzing from the high, my breath warm against his skin.

He’s wrecked beneath me, boneless, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

I drag my fingers down his sides. “You did so good for me, Pup,” I praise, my voice soft again, my hands sliding over his sweat-slicked skin. “This sweet body took me so well, and you didn’t run. That’s what I like to see.”

His breath catches, and I feel it—the way he reacts to the praise, the way his body tenses for half a second before melting into it.

Oh .

I smile against his skin, my fingers trailing back up, over his ribs, and I know I have him. I chuckle, brushing my lips over the shell of his ear. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say it,” I whisper, my voice soothing. “I already know.”

His body gives another faint shiver, and I hum, nuzzling against his neck. “See, you fought me for so long, but this is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?” I ask, my voice dripping with satisfaction as I nibble his earlobe. “To give in. To let me take control. To be mine.”

I press a lazy kiss to his jaw before pulling out, loving it when he whines at the loss, and the overstimulation making him tremble. I glance down, watching my release drips from between his legs, and fuck, if that’s not the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen.

“Messy little thing,” I murmur, dragging my fingers through it before smearing it against his hole. He jerks, whining softly again, his body still too sensitive.

“Liam—”

I don’t let him finish. I roll him onto his back, and he blinks up at me, dazed. I slip my fingers through the mess on his stomach, and his breath hitches.

“You’re mine, Nate,” I say, leaning down to run my tongue along the marks I left on his throat, then I pull back to look at him. “You don’t have to fight it anymore, because I’m yours too.”

His cheeks are flushed, his lips parted, and the dazed look in his green eyes makes my stomach tighten.

He looks so fucking pretty like this.

I drag my knuckles down his cheek, watching how he leans into it. “Such a good boy,” I praise, and I don’t miss the way his breath catches again.

Oh, he really does like it.

I smirk, trailing my fingers lower, brushing over his stomach, feeling the faint aftershocks still running through his body. “You like hearing that, don’t you?” I tease, my voice softer now, testing him. “You like being my good boy.”

He makes a noise in his throat—small and breathless—and my cock stirs again, already wanting to push him further.

But not tonight. I press another kiss to his lips, my fingers tilting his chin so he’s looking at me. His eyes are still hazy, his body pliant beneath me, and I smile softly, brushing my thumb over his bottom lip.

“You’re gonna sleep now, okay?” I say, keeping that same soft cadence. “No running and no overthinking. Just sleep.”

His lashes flutter, but he nods faintly, his body already too exhausted to fight me.

I lean in, kissing his cheek. “And in the morning,” I breathe, “you’re not gonna tell anyone that you belong to me.”

Nate’s breath is slow and uneven as his brows furrow slightly, his voice rough, whispering, “Why?”

I tilt my head. “Why what, Nathaniel?”

“Why can’t I tell?” he asks on a swallow.

I hum, dragging my fingers over his throat, tracing the marks I left behind, feeling his pulse jump beneath my touch. “Because I want you to be my perfect little secret for a while.”

That’s the answer he expects. The one that makes sense, the one that keeps him compliant, the one that makes him feel like this is something special.

But the truth?

The truth is, I don’t want Sage anywhere near him.

Sage is the only person who sees Nate the way I do, the only person who pulls him back when he gets too close to the edge, the only person who could undo everything I’ve done. I can’t fucking have that, not when I’ve already got him. Not when he’s mine now.

I lean down, pressing my lips against his, slow this time, gentle. Nothing like before. Nothing like the rough, desperate way we just tore each other apart. This kiss isn’t about claiming, about possession, or about proving a point. This is reinforcement.

His breath stutters, his fingers twitch against the sheets as if he’s thinking about reaching for me, but he doesn’t. He just lets me kiss him, lets me own this moment, lets me settle something inside him.

When I pull back, I let my fingers ghost along his cheek, watching his lashes flutter, his body still soft beneath me. “Go to sleep, Pup.”

He tries to keep his eyes open, but they drift closed as he nods faintly, too fucked out to question it.

I watch him for a beat, then I swing my legs off the bed, reaching for my pants. The room is dim, the air thick with heat and sweat and sex; the only sound is our quiet, unsteady breathing. I pull my pants on, buttoning them up, and smoothing down my shirt.

I never took it off; I never do. Not in front of people, not in moments like this.

I don’t like the way eyes linger when I’m exposed, I don’t like the feeling of someone’s gaze on my skin.

I can handle hands—can handle touch on certain parts of my body, control it, turn it into something I dictate—but eyes? No.

I won’t allow it.

I run a hand through my hair, glancing at him one last time before I stand up, adjusting my belt, my fingers lingering against the buckle for just a second longer than necessary. This is the moment that matters, when he realizes I’m leaving, and when he realizes he doesn’t want me to.

He won’t say it because he’s still trying to convince himself that he doesn’t need me to stay.

But we both know he does.