Page 112 of Hymns of the Broken

“You feel that?” he whispers. “Feel how full you are? How fucking perfect you are for me?”

I moan his name, almost broken. He’s everywhere. Inside me. All around me. I can taste him on my tongue, feel his sweat sliding down my spine.

“That’s it,” he groans, barely moving now, just grinding, keeping every part of him buried deep. “You take me so well. Fuck, Sawyer…You’re fucking made for me.”

Then, his teeth brush my jaw. He nips the skin, and it sends another pulse of pleasure through my ruined body.

“I’m going to fill you up so much that the next time Jasper sees this pretty cunt,” he breathes, words hot and evil at my ear, “you’ll still be leaking my cum. He’ll see it. He’ll smell me all over you.”

The shock of it—the sound, the promise, the sheer filth—makes my back arch again, and I come for the third time, clenching down around him so hard he chokes on a moan. My world whites out, every nerve burning with humiliation and pride, ruined and worshipped.

And then he’s cumming inside me, slow and deep and deliberate, like he’s filling me up with everything he has. His hips jerk, and he buries his face in my neck, groaning my name, teeth scraping my shoulder as he empties himself inside me.

“Mine,” he groans. “Mine. Even when you’re with him. You’re fucking mine.”

And I can’t say anything.

Because I might be. All theirs, entirely.

My chest is rising and falling like I ran a marathon and got tackled at the finish line by pleasure itself. My limbs don’t work, my brain is static, and my body… is ruined.

Riot’s still inside me, his arms wrapped tight around my waist like he’s anchoring himself. Or maybe anchoring me. I can stll feel him throbbing inside of me.

His forehead rests against mine, our sweat mixing. His lips brush my jaw, then trail to the corner of my mouth.

“I should clean you up… but I’m not gonna because I want him to see what I did to you. Know that I was inside you.”

My eyes flutter open, catching the gleam in his.

“If he didn’t hear it already,” he adds with a smile.

My face heats, memory flashing—the moans, the screams, the way my voice broke when I begged. The way I wanted them both to hear.

He brushes his thumb across my lower lip, his touch lingering.

“I ruined you tonight, baby. And I want it to haunt him. I want him to know you’re mine too.”

My heart shouldn’t flutter at that. But it does. It’s not about competition—it’s about how desperately I want to be seen. How I want to be wanted enough for both of them to claim me this hard.

I whisper, “You really think I’m ruined?”

He smirks.

“No, Hellcat,” he says softly, kissing me just once, barely there. “I think you’re just finally realizing you were made for this… Maybe even for both of us.”

RIOT

She’s curled up on her side, facing me, lashes fluttering against her cheeks like she’s still chasing the last aftershock in her dreams. I should let her sleep. I am letting her sleep.

But fuck…

I can’t stop staring.

At her vibrant, messy hair, still damp with sweat. Her lips, red and swollen from all the things I made her beg for. The bruises blooming on her hips, the faint prints on her thighs—myfingerprints. Markers. Warnings. Proof.

Mine.

I tug the comforter higher over her bare skin, but my arm stays wrapped around her waist. She fits so perfectly there, like the universe finally gave me something I didn’t have to fight to the death for.