Page 81 of The Beast's Broken Angel

For a moment, I just held his gaze, letting the full force of his need slam into me. The world shrank to the space between our bodies—the trembling in his thighs, the flushed heat of his skin, the way his cock twitched helplessly in my grip, leaking with each desperate pulse. His chest heaved, sweat-slick, every muscle taut with the effort of holding back.

I leaned in, my forehead pressed to his, breath mingling, drinking in every shuddering gasp. “You really are, aren’t you?” I whispered, voice dark and wrecked. “All mine. Every breath, every sound, every desperate little plea. I love how you fall apart for me, Noah.”

His hips jerked against me, the muscles in his stomach flexing as I kept him right on the edge—one hand tight around his cock, the other gripping his thigh hard enough to bruise. He whimpered, biting his lip, trying to keep from begging again, but I could feel the tremor running through him, could see the way his whole body screamed for release.

“You’re so close,” I murmured, lips ghosting along the shell of his ear, dragging my teeth across the sensitive skin. “I can feel it—your whole body’s begging for me, isn’t it? Needing me. Needing to come so fucking bad.”

He nodded frantically, throat working as he tried to swallow the next plea. His hands clutched at my shoulders, nails digging in, grounding himself as I held him suspended, as if I was the only thing keeping him from flying apart completely.

I pressed my lips to his jaw, his cheek, tasting the salt of sweat and desperation. My hand never stopped moving, slowand firm, matching the rhythm of my hips as I drove into him deeper, harder. “I love this—seeing you like this. Wrecked. Helpless. Completely undone because of me.”

He moaned, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut as his body arched into me, desperate for the permission I still hadn’t given. “Please, Adrian, I—fuck—I can’t, I need—please…”

That was it. My control snapped. I crushed my mouth to his, swallowing every broken sound he made as I fucked him deep and rough and desperate. My hand stroked him faster, in perfect time with every thrust, feeling him break apart in my arms, the pleasure too much to hold back any longer.

“Now,” I growled into his mouth. “Come for me, Noah.”

He shattered in my arms, sobbing my name, his whole body locking tight as he spilled hot and thick between us, his hole clenching and pulsing around my cock. That perfect tightness dragged me under—I drove in one last time and came with a raw, broken groan, holding him so tight he could never doubt who he belonged to.

We shook together, tangled and breathless, lost in the raw aftermath. My forehead dropped to his shoulder, his arms clinging to me like I was the only safe thing in the world.

“You did so fucking well,” I murmured, pressing kisses to his neck, my cock still nestled inside him, both of us shaking.

Eventually, I lowered him onto the nearby sofa. His legs gave out, and I caught him, guiding him down until he sprawled across the cushions, flushed and debauched. I cleaned him with gentle hands, savoring the way he stayed pliant, completely undone but still fighting for control.

He looked up at me, eyes hazy but fierce. “That was insane,” he rasped.

I smiled, brushing damp hair from his forehead before kissing him again—slower this time, almost tender.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

18

CONFLICTED LOYALTIES

NOAH

Possessive bruises painted my collarbone in shades of purple and blue, fingerprint shadows on my hips where Adrian had gripped me while he fucked me. The sight should have horrified me—visible proof of how far I'd fallen from the ethical standards that had once defined my life.

Instead, heat pooled low in my gut as I remembered exactly how each mark had been created. The way Adrian's mouth had worked against my throat, sucking and biting with methodical intent. The bruising grip of his hands as he'd held me in place, taking what he wanted with a possessiveness that made my pulse stutter even in memory.

Christ, what was wrong with me?

Steam from the shower couldn’t wash away the confusion clouding rational thought.

Days ago, Adrian had me tortured in a basement interrogation room, suspecting me of betrayal. Since then, everything had changed with dizzying speed - first tentative surrender, then our conversation where I'd finally admitted what we both knew, and now this afternoon's claiming against his study door.Each encounter had pushed boundaries I'd never imagined I'd be willing to cross.

The whiplash progression defied logical explanation, but my body didn’t seem to care about logic. Every nerve ending still hummed with the memory of his touch, skin hypersensitive in ways that made the simple act of putting on clothes feel like foreplay.

Water beat down on my shoulders, hot and relentless, but it did nothing to distract me from the ache building in my core. I pressed my palms flat against the slick tile wall, tilting my head forward as a low, frustrated noise escaped me. The images wouldn’t stop—Adrian’s voice rough against my ear, his breath hot as he growled for me to stay still. The way he’d dragged his teeth over the curve of my neck before biting down hard enough to leave proof. Proof that I was his.

And fuck, that word.His.

It shouldn’t make my cock twitch the way it did.

But it did.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hating how easily my body betrayed me. My hand drifted down almost involuntarily, fingers wrapping around the weight of my arousal with a shaky breath. I wasn’t thinking. Thinking would only drag me back into the quagmire of wrongness that coated everything between us.