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Sweat glistens against the blue-black tattoo inked into Rex’s left forearm. It flexes with each thrust, making it harder for me to study the dumb scrolling letters—something they used before the pandemic—trying to figure out what it says as he fucks my ass.

I asked about it before, but all I get is that it’s from his time in the military. And fuck knows if he’ll ever elaborate beyond that.

Sometimes, when he doesn’t think I notice, he touches it like it means more.

Still, focusing on the words written into the skull and snake image is better than listening to him ramble about how I’m “his”

or some shit again. As if his claim over me is gonna soften me somehow.

Fuck that.

Ever since I mentioned having sex with other people for food he’s been acting territorial, even though five months have passed. Curious what he’d do if we actually came across another human. Not that we have.

But I don’t really care about bein’ with anyone. Rex is enough. Can’t deal with someone else causing all this internal chaos goin’ on inside my chest the way it does with this asshole currently pounding into me.

“Maybe next time I tell you to do something, you’ll fucking listen for once.”

Rex shows no mercy as he slams in with each word, making me slide against the table.

I focus on the wall straight ahead, hiding my smirk.

It’s the same shit, different day.

Rex barks orders and I tell him to fuck off. Sometimes he lets me get away with it.

Other times, like now, he reminds me “who I belong to”

with one of his big-ass hands holding my neck down, pinning me like a bug stuck under glass while his other is planted a few inches from my face.

I grunt and take it, barely listening to his latest lecture. I love pissing off the bastard, and with the way he’s growling, I must’ve pissed him off real good this time.

Or could be he’s still all worried after I fell into the freezing river yesterday.

Never seen him panic so much. And for nothing. I’m a damn good swimmer. But the bastard freaks out whenever something threatens my safety.

While I like pushing his buttons, or think he overreacts, part of me is sorta testing him, waiting to see if he’ll snap on me.

Or abandon me.

Bile rises in my throat at the thought. As much as I complain, I can’t stand being away from him too long either.

Only problem is Rex has taken to blue balling me lately as a way to punish me. He gets me hard as stone, leaking, and desperate to finish. Then doesn’t let me.

Orgasm denial he calls it.

Hate it.

What’s worse, my feelings are so damn chaotic. And changing too fast. It’s freaking me out. I don’t even understand what’s going on in my head when it comes to him.

So, I keep being a defiant prick, telling myself I’m too used to being on my own, on relying on myself. I’ve been doing it for almost seven years.

Maybe even longer.

Hell, surviving with my prick of a father wasn’t easy.

Rex’s hand vanishes.

A loud crack sounds, then fire flickers across my ass like lava. I grunt, biting back the moan trying to escape.

Fuck yes. Keep spanking me, asshole.

“You listening?”

His fingers dig into the fresh sting.

“Nope.”

A barrage of harsh smacks rocks me into the table.

I whine and arch higher, begging silently for more. But he won’t give me what I want. Rex knows spanking just gets me hornier.

If only I hadn’t come last week from the impact alone, the asshole might not have figured out how much I really like it.

He lets go of my neck, then grabs my hips hard enough to bruise as I brace myself against the table. He rails into me, slamming so hard my toes leave the ground.

I can’t stop the pathetic moans bursting out with each thrust or the drool dripping down my chin. Heat pulses through me, but it ain’t enough to make me pop.

Instead, my aching dick twitches as he nails my sweet spot over and over. “P-please. . . .”

I gasp before I can stop.

Hate when I slip up like that.

The first night together, I was lost in the new sensations. I’d never been fucked before. Never touched or sucked. Rex was my first in every way, and I begged like crazy.

It’s why I wanted him gone the next morning. Well, out of the bedroom at least. But my damn mouth ran and he’d left. Plus, he’d said something about food, so I thought he’d be cooking, and I was so tired I fell asleep.

When I woke up, he was gone and I freaked the fuck out. I fell on the kitchen floor hyperventilating, ribs hurting, head pounding. Shit. I could barely breathe.

Even puked.

It took forever to calm down enough to move, then I grabbed whatever food Rex had left on the table and tracked him down, wanting to stab the asshole for ditching me.

I cried most of the trek—hated that too. But when I found him, I was scared he’d reject me. My insides were jumbled in knots, so I climbed a tree and watched him.

Only the bastard caught me.

And when he got all possessive, it was like the rock on my chest vanished. Felt lighter, could breathe easier.

Thing is, over these past months everything’s gotten more intense. Now, being away from Rex feels like dying.

Had to split up for a few hours here and there, and after fifteen minutes felt like my heart was being ripped out and my skin was being peeled off, only to get back to normal the moment we reunited.

Add to that the fact I crave his touch. Crave him. But it’s so intense I feel like I’m drowning, which I hate, so up go my walls again.

Some days I just miss the times before Rex. These damn emotions are just so draining, and I can’t control them.

Rex stills, panting against my back. “What was that, boy?”

I clamp my mouth shut, face burning. Don’t take the bait.

“Did you just beg me for more?”

“No,”

I grunt out.

Rex tugs my hair, forcing me to look back at him. “Could’ve sworn I heard you say please. Sounded pretty desperate too.”

“You’re hearing things, old man.”

He chuckles, giving a rough thrust that punches a groan from me. “Nope, I’m pretty sure that was you begging me like a wanton little slut.”

“Fuck you,”

I grit out, even as my traitorous dick drips.

His beard scratches my cheek as he bites my earlobe. “Let me hear you beg again.”

I turn my head away, clamping my mouth shut. Like hell I’ll give him what he wants when he won’t let me come.

Rex just laughs, then resumes his relentless pace.

He slams into me, angling to hit deep, and I bite my lip, stifling any traitorous noises. But when he hits that spot inside, I can’t hold back. “Ohhh, fuu . . .”

“There’s my good boy.”

Warmth spreads through me at the praise, my dick twitching at his words.

His thrusts slow, his hand sliding down my back. “You want more?”

“No.”

He chuckles as his fingers trail lower, brushing my hole stretched around him.

I whimper, cursing internally. Why do I crave his touch, his approval, as if I need it to breathe?

Never been needy before. It sucks.

His hand cracks against my ass again. My moan fills the room, and I push back, meeting him with equal force as he grunts, his breath heavy and uneven.

“Just like that. Arch more for me, good boy.”

Between the praise and being spanked I can’t help but comply. Rex always knows just what I need, even when I don’t.

He fucks me harder and faster, his thrusts now wild and uncontrolled.

The sound of his skin slapping against mine, along with the scent of his musk, is intoxicating.

He slams in deep twice more before tensing, his cock pulsing as he fills me.

I reach down to sneak some relief, but he catches my wrist, then pins it back to the table. “Nope. Poor choices don’t get rewarded.”

I press my forehead against the table, biting back a whine.

Only once I’ve gone soft does he finally pull out and release me. Cleanup’s quick. By the time I yank my jeans back up, he has his map spread out.

You’d think he would bother getting dressed first, but no. Asshole probably wants to fuck me again before we leave.

Almost as if he craves touching me too, which is probably true since he even likes doing all that huggy crap when we go to sleep.

“Here’s our goal,”

he says, tapping a spot on the worn paper.

I’ve already got our route memorized, but Rex believes in being prepared. We’ve had to separate before, splitting up to hunt or because of Carrionites. So now we plot our routes real careful to avoid those psycho cannibals.

And he always makes sure I know where we’re headed next. A pain in my ass, but it keeps us breathing.

And it beats one of us getting caught by those sickos.

My gut twists. The thought of them getting their hands on Rex, about waking up and finding him gone for good, it’d gut me deeper than any Carrionite blade.

I shake my head, then turn my attention back to him, not wanting to think about those cannibals or about him being gone.

Or about why it bothers me so much, causing me to rub the center of my chest.