Page 111 of The Beast's Broken Angel

He obeyed, bracing himself against the wall.

“Wider.”

He spread his legs.

I kicked them wider still, forcing his stance open. I gripped both wrists and pinned them above his head with one hand.

“You don’t move until I say,” I rasped against his ear. “You understand me?”

“Yes.”

“You want to be fucked like you matter?”

“Yes. Please, Adrian?—”

I spit in my free hand and slicked my cock. It wasn’t enough, not nearly, so I reached for the drawer by the sink and grabbed the bottle of surgical lube we kept for wound irrigation. Practical. Unromantic.

Perfect.

I coated my fingers, parted his cheeks, and pressed two into his hole without warning.

“Fuck—!” he gasped, but didn’t pull away.

“Take it,” I growled. “Take what you asked for.”

He moaned as I stretched him fast, too fast, because I couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stopneeding. His hole clenched around my fingers, greedy and tight and perfect.

“Please,” he panted. “I want your cock—I want to feel you.”

“You don’t beg nearly enough for someone who’s this fucking wrecked for it.”

I pulled my fingers out, slicked my cock with shaking hands, and shoved in.

One thrust. Deep. Brutal.

He cried out, forehead hitting the wall.

“Quiet,” I snapped. “You take it, or I stop.”

“I’m yours,” he gasped. “Fucking take me.”

And I did.

I fucked him like it was war. Like it was punishment. Like if I pushed deep enough, hard enough, maybe I could fuck the fear out of my own bones. His body jolted with every thrust, hole sucking me in like it didn’t want to let go. His cock was pinned between him and the wall, dripping, untouched.

My teeth found the side of his throat. I bit down, marking him just above his pulse. He shuddered, legs buckling. I gripped his hips and slammed deeper.

“You feel that?” I hissed. “That’s my cock wrecking your pretty hole. That’s me, owning every fucking part of you.”

“Yes,” he moaned. “Don’t stop. Please—fuck—Adrian?—”

I was losing it. Every thrust came with a noise, a grunt, a sob I couldn’t contain. I buried my cock to the hilt and stilled, chest pressed to his back, heart pounding through both of us.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“For what?” he whispered.

“For being like this. Forneedingyou like this.”