Page 22 of Hellbent (Snakes & Daggers #1)

I can’t answer. I’m gulping back air, my heart slamming against my ribs.

He pulls back just enough to look up at me, mouth slick, eyes blazing. “You gonna come for me, Max? Gonna come in my mouth like a good little girl?”

“Please—” I whisper.

“Please what?”

“Please make me come, Damian. Please, I need it—”

My thighs shake, every nerve lit up, the pressure building hard and fast.

He slips two fingers inside me and curls them just right, pulling down slightly, and I break.

The orgasm rocks through me, making my vision go white, and my whole body goes taut before I shudder apart with a cry.

Damian moans with satisfaction, holding me there, mouth and fingers working me through it until I’m twitching, too sensitive to bear another second.

Finally, he pulls back, eyes dark and blown, lips glistening, chest heaving like he’s the one who just came.

He rises slowly to his feet, raking his eyes over me, and steps back just enough to yank his zipper down, shoving his coveralls off his shoulders and letting them drop to his waist. He peels his t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion, revealing the taut lines of his torso, ink tracing over muscle and skin.

He pushes the rest of his coveralls down, boxers with them, until he’s standing there fully naked—cock thick and hard and heavy.

My breath catches at the sight of him, but I don’t have time to linger, because he’s back on me, his mouth claiming mine, his hands rough as they grip my thighs, spreading me open.

“Fuck, I’m so hard for you,” he rasps, rolling his cock against me, hard and thick between my legs. “That’s what you do to me.”

I whimper, hips shifting, desperate for friction, but his grip tightens.

“Hold still,” he grits out.

I swear I feel my pulse between my legs. My entire body is a live wire, strung so tight it’s almost unbearable.

“Please—”

“Shhh.” His thumb trails over my bottom lip. “You want this cock, baby?”

I nod, eager but speechless.

“Then beg.” His lips curve. “Like a good girl. Let me hear it.”

I almost whimper. This is a bossy, more dominant side of Damian than I’ve seen before, and fuck —it undoes me. The steel in his voice, the command in his eyes…it makes me want to give him exactly what he’s asking for.

“Now.” Low. Impatient.

My voice is just a tremble when it comes out. “Damian, please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me.”

“That’s right.” Hunger flashes in his eyes. His hand grips my throat harder. “Say it again. Beg me.”

“Please.” My voice trembles with my desperation. “Please fuck me, Damian. I need you inside of me. I need your cock.”

He hums with appreciation. “Oh, that’s good,” he murmurs. “That’s a very good girl. You deserve my fucking cock.”

And then—he gives it to me.

One long, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt, stretching me open, making me feel every inch of him. I gasp and he lifts his hand to my neck again, pressing his fingers into my skin like he wants to hold me right at the edge of this moment, right at the peak of that first overwhelming stretch.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, forehead pressing to mine, like he’s barely keeping himself together. “You feel so fucking good.”

My fingers claw at his back, nails digging in. He moves slowly at first, sinking all the way in before pulling all the way out, and I completely lose myself from the intensity of it—back arching, breath huffing. My head rolls back as my chest heaves.

“Look at me,” he orders. “Keep your eyes on me.”

My eyes snap to his, my breath panting, and he thrusts hard and deep, making me cry out. The fingers of one hand dig into my throat, the other laces roughly through my hair, tugging just enough to keep my head tilted back as he pumps, dragging pleasure out of me.

My body clenches tight, my muscles locking around him, and his grip crushes as he groans into my mouth. “I wanna feel you come on my cock, princess.”

He releases my hair, slips his fingers between my legs, rubbing slow, teasing circles against my clit.

“Come for me again,” he growls, lips brushing against my jaw. “Come for me, baby.”

As if on command, my insides coil tight, pulling together into a single, focused point deep in my center.

Everything else disappears. There’s just the excruciating, incredible friction of his movements, the dark murmur of his voice—and suddenly a shockwave is ripping through me, my orgasm washing over me as I break open.

My body convulses, pleasure tearing through every nerve while Damian keeps fucking me, voice low and rough in my ear. “That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl.”

The aftershocks leave me shaking, hands pressed against his back, chest pressed against his, letting my body move with his as I come back to myself. But Damian isn’t finished.

“You’re gonna take more,” he says, softly, but firm. “Turn around and put your hands on the bench.”

He pulls out slowly, and I stand and turn around as instructed, putting my palms flat on the bench while I feel him line himself up behind me. His hand reaches around, fingers slick with saliva, and find my clit, rubbing it slowly as he pushes into me again.

His hand presses between my shoulder blades, flattening me onto the workbench. The cold metal presses against my chest, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body behind me.

His fingers tangle in my hair and he pulls my head back, his grip tight but controlled.

“You’re so good,” he bites out, voice thick. “Bent over, taking me like a good little girl.”

A pulse slams through me at his words, and my walls clench around him.

“Ooh, you like that, huh?”

He pounds into me, once, twice, and then pulls out again—and spanks me, hard enough to make me yelp.

Heat explodes under my skin.

“Oh fuck!” I cry.

His hand brushes over the sting, soothing it, before lifting again. Crack! Another sharp slap against my ass that makes me cry out.

“Christ, listen to you,” he growls.

His hands spread me open, exposing me completely. His fingers tease my entrance, run up lightly, brushing across my asshole.

“You ever had a man play with your ass before, Finch?”

A shockwave rolls through me. “N-no…”

“No?” His thumb circles the tight ring of muscle, pressing just enough to make me suck in a breath. “It feels good though, doesn’t it? My fingers teasing that tight little hole.”

I groan in response as he pushes a finger inside me. An unfamiliar warmth washes over my skin, making my heart skip.

“Yeah, you like that,” he purrs, chuckling at my reaction. “Let me fuck you there. I want your ass, princess.”

“I—I don’t know.”

His teeth graze my shoulder, and the head of his cock slides between my cheeks, pushing against my tight rim. “I’ll go slow, baby.”

I’m too wrecked, too turned on, too open. I don’t even think—I just nod. “Okay.”

He growls with satisfaction, bites down once, then pulls away with a rough breath. “Hang on.”

I watch, dazed, as he walks away, crossing to a metal cabinet against the wall and rifling through a plastic bin filled with auto supplies. WD-40. Brake cleaner. A grimy roll of shop towels.

And then—

“Seriously?” I blink. “Why is… that …in there? ”

He holds up a small blue-and-white tube of KY Jelly and grins. “Swear to God, Wyatt always has a tube in there. He says it’s the best thing for O-rings.”

My eyebrows lift. “And that doesn’t raise any flags for you?”

He laughs. “Oh, Wyatt raises tons of red flags for me, yes.”

He strides back across the room and I can’t take my eyes off of him.

Wide shoulders, cut abs slick with sweat, tattoos carved over lean, muscular arms. His cock juts forward, thick and ready, and as he walks, he squeezes some of the lube out onto his fingers and strokes it down over his length.

The sight of him touching himself makes my pussy swell with need.

He squeezes more out into his hand and positions himself behind me again. Slick fingers find my slit and I suck in a breath as he trails a line up from my pussy over my asshole, the cool slipperiness at odds with the sparks of heat his fingers leave in their wake.

His other hand splays across my back, bending me over the bench. Legs straight, ass up, completely open to him.

We shouldn’t be doing this—not here, not like this—but I cannot bring myself to stop. I need him in every way.

His groan is pure sin as he presses the head of his cock into the tight ring of muscle. “Fuck. You really are perfect.”

My asshole spreads as he widens me, the sensation a painful burn, and I hiss.

He slows, stops, waits, and when my muscles relax, he pushes in a little deeper.

It’s pain again, and then, after a minute, pleasure.

He pushes in deeper, deeper still, until he’s all the way in, and I feel his cock throb inside me.

“Jesus Christ, you’re going to make me come so hard, fucking you like this.”

I whimper, body shaking, nerves screaming, and he starts moving—slowly at first, in tune with my body, waiting when I freeze up, moving when I relax, until we sink into a rhythm, and the unexpected sensation starts dragging me from the point of pain to the exquisite point of pleasure.

It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

Soon I’m pushing back against him, wanting him deeper, begging him for more. His fingers tighten bruisingly at my hips, and he pounds into me, fast and hard, and I cry out.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. I don’t even know the difference anymore.

“That’s it, baby. Fucking take it. Take my cock,” he grunts, words sharp and staccato. “You’re gonna make me come, Max. Your tight little ass is going to make me come so hard.”

My body tightens at the words, my mind going white.

“Oh fuck, that’s good,” he groans, thrusts getting harder. “Oh God, I’m gonna come in your ass. Tell me you want it. Tell me you want my cum in your ass.”

I can barely breathe, barely think. “I—I want it, I—”

His fingers wrap tight in my hair, yanking my head back. “Fucking say it.”

“I want you to come,” I choke out, my breath coming in gasps. “I want your cum in my ass, Damian.”

He snarls like an animal. His hands press down on my lower back—hard—I can feel his whole body tensing, and then just as he buries himself as deep as he can go, I snap.

I come so fucking hard I almost black out, my entire body convulsing as he slams into me with a wild cry, cock jerking with his release.

For a second neither of us breathes, suspended in our own agonizing relief, every nerve strung tight and pulsing with the aftershocks.

His hands soften against my back. They slide over my back, my hips, as his mouth presses against my shoulder, his breathing ragged. He slumps against me, and we collapse forward onto the workbench with him still twitching inside of me.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he gasps. “That was so fucking good.”

And that’s when I hear it—cutting through the sound of Damian’s heavy breathing in my ear. The slamming of the shop door.

I don’t have to look to know who it is.

I feel it.

It can only be Wyatt.

A slow, unbearable beat of nothing where my heart stops and my mind goes fucking blank.

“What the fuck?”

His voice is quiet but simmering, and my stomach drops.

We’re caught.

And Wyatt sees everything.

The way I’m bent over the workbench, naked and shaking. The way Damian is buried inside of me. He pulls out and cum runs down my leg, slick down my thighs.

I scramble to pull myself together, but Damian is slow to move away from me—almost like he’s deliberately making Wyatt see before he lets me go.

Fucking bastard.

And Wyatt doesn’t look away. He glares at us, blue eyes turned molten, nostrils flaring with anger as he exhales.

“You’re supposed to be working.”

His voice is low, controlled, but laced with fury.

I flinch, because fuck , that somehow makes it worse.

I grab my coveralls, dragging them up my legs with shaking hands. Damian steps back, pulling on his boxers and tucking himself away, moving at his own fucking pace.

Wyatt watches both of us, his jaw tight, and then his gaze snaps to me.

“You’re unbelievable.”

The words land like a slap.

Shame slams through me, hot and suffocating, crawling up my throat.

“Wyatt—”

But he’s already turning away.

“No.” His voice is quiet, but lethal. “I don’t even wanna fucking look at you right now.”

I wince.

For a second, I think he might say something else—some kind of condemnation, something cruel. But instead, he just shakes his head and walks back through the shop door.

Silence.

I let out a slow, shaking breath, mortified. My skin burns.

Damian lets out a low, slow whistle. “Well…fuck.”

I whirl on him, shoving at his chest, furious. “Why the fuck didn’t you stop?”

He catches my wrists, stopping me mid-motion, his hazel eyes burning with amusement. Zero regret.

“Don’t act like you didn’t love every fucking second of it.”

I frown. He’s right, but I don’t know how he can take this in stride. Wyatt’s fury destroys me.