Page 46 of Cursed

“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking for.

For him to stop?

For him to continue?

For someone to fix the broken wiring in my brain that makes this violation feel like salvation?

“You’re fighting yourself more than you’re fighting me,” Landon observes, his voice dark velvet against my skin. “Let go of the past and stop thinking, Sadie.”

A sob escapes me as his words strike at the core of my shame. How can he see through me so completely? How does he know the war raging inside me—between what I should want and what I actually crave?

“I’m broken,” I confess, the words torn from a wounded space within me. “This shouldn’t—I shouldn’t want?—”

His pressure increases, the burn of stretching as he breaches me with excruciating slowness. I whimper, caught between the urge to escape and the need to surrender.

“Shhh,” Landon whispers, his hand gentle on my lower back even as he continues his relentless invasion. “You’re perfect just as you are. Your past is just that, past.”

A tear slides down my cheek, dropping onto the bench below.

“Being whole is overrated,” he continues, his voice hypnotic as he pushes deeper, pausing when I tense. “The people who claim to be whole are the real frauds. They’re just better at hiding their damage.”

My breathing comes in shallow pants as he gives me time to adjust before pressing forward. The burn is intense but not unbearable—he’s being careful.

“It’s the jagged edges that make you who you are,” Landon says, his fingers tracing my spine. “The cracks and fissures where the light gets in. The places where you’ve been shattered and pieced yourself back together.” He slides in another inch, and I gasp. “Those broken pieces are everything that makes you you, little butterfly. And I fucking love that about you.”

His words sink into me deeper than his body does, penetrating defenses I didn’t know I still had. How can this monster be the only one who sees me—all of me—and doesn’t turn away?

“You don’t need fixing,” he whispers as he seats himself fully inside me. “You need someone who appreciates the masterpiece your scars have created.”

I can’t believe he’s inside me completely. The fullness is overwhelming—different from anything I’ve ever felt before. The burning stretch has transformed into a new sensation entirely, a heavy pressure that sends confusing signals of pleasure-pain through my entire body.

“Oh god,” I gasp, my fingers gripping the padded bench so hard my knuckles turn white.

“There you go,” Landon murmurs, his voice strained with restraint. “Taking all of me like you were made for this.”

He holds still, letting me adjust to his invasion. The vulnerability of being spread open in such a vulnerable place, completely at his mercy, is terrifying and exhilarating.

“I’m going to move now,” he warns.

When he slides back, slipping from my body maddeningly slowly ensuring that I feel every inch of him before driving forward again, a broken sound escapes my throat—not pain, not pleasure, but the jagged edge between them.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Your ass is like a vise. So fucking tight around me. So damn good.”

His praise shouldn’t affect me, shouldn’t make heat pool between my legs, shouldn’t make me push back against him seeking more. But it does. Each filthy compliment strips away another layer of my resistance.

“The way you take me,” Landon continues, voice rough. “Like your body was waiting for me to claim this part of you.”

My breath comes in shallow pants as the discomfort gives way to a pleasure so intense it’s almost unbearable. Each thrust sends shockwaves through my core, lighting up nerve endings I never knew existed.

My body yields to him in ways my mind still resists, opening for him as he claims the last vestiges of my virginity.

“Every. Fucking. Inch.” Each word punctuated by a thrust deeper than the last. “Every part of you belongs to me now.”

His fingers dig into my hips with bruising force, lifting me slightly to change the angle. The new position sends waves of pleasure radiating from where we’re joined to my throbbing clit.

“Oh god,” I gasp, shocked by how good it feels.

“Not god,” he growls, his pace becoming brutal. “Say my name when I’m defiling you.”