But now, as I lose myself in the rhythm of her body and the soft feeling of her golden skin, I feel like I’m unraveling her secrets, thread by thread, stitch by stitch. Each thrust drives deeper into her, and as the belt tightens against her throat, her breaths become sharp gasps, almost lost in the fray of passion and violence.
Her eyes search for mine, and when they lock, there’s something primal in the depths—a deep understanding that we both wear our scars like badges, a recognition of our traumatic pasts. I don’t want her to just experience pleasure; I want her to feel every ounce of the destructive energy we both carry. The pain that always comes before anything else. The aggression and lust intertwine in a dance of power that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Dímelo, Scarlett. Dime que quieres más,” I growl, pushing against the belt just enough to have her feeling the weight of it, like a reminder of who’s in control.
I’m not just filling her; I’m marking her, declaring her as mine in a world where more than one of us is fighting for her to really see us for who we are and not what we've done..
“I want more,” she manages, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with need. “More of this—of you.”
There’s a wicked smile forming on her lips, and for the first time, I see the girl beneath the therapist façade. The little sinner hides behind the saint, and all I want is to pull her out into the light, away from her hesitations. As if sensing my thoughts, she digs her nails deeper into my skin, as though grounding herself while floating further into the dark edges of our minds.
“You’re breaking me,” she hisses, a beautiful mixture of pleasure and pain illuminating her features as I thrust harder,each movement pushing her closer to the edge and making her even wetter..
“Good,” I reply, my voice rough as I prepare to fuck her even deeper. “I want to fucking break you so I can put you back together again, piece by piece.” It’s a promise wrapped in sin, but in moments like these, the lines blur between pleasure and pain, love and hate. I want to drown in her; I want to consume us both.
Every ounce of control slips through my fingers as we fall deeper into this toxic relationship. I measure her pleasure against her pain, and when her moans become desperate whimpers, I release the belt just enough to let her draw in a shaky breath before pushing her back against the ground once more.
“God, Michael,” she whines, her voice trembling, her eyes bright with that same wild fire I crave. “The way you look at me… it’s like you see through all the layers. Like you know just what I need.” Her bite of vulnerability is intoxicating, igniting an urge to both protect and destroy her completely.
“Then let me,” I rasp, and I increase my pace, feeling her walls tighten around my cock as if she’s trying to pull me in even deeper, into the very essence of her being.
Her body bucks beneath me, a melody of rhythm and chaos, and it aligns perfectly with the darkness brewing inside me. I push the belt a fraction tighter, keeping the mixture of mounting pleasure and undeniable power coursing between us as her face turns red from the force of the belt against her pulsing veins.
“No me pierdas de vista, Scarlett. Siente cada centímetro de esto,” I demand, and she obeys, hardly understanding what I'm even saying, her gaze unwavering—her eyes deep pools of reflection where I can see both the monstrous and the majestic.
As the last embers of restraint fade, I feel it coming—the explosive climax that threatens to engulf us whole, a mix of ecstasy and madness. My movements become frantic, the worldaround us narrowing until there’s only the beating of our hearts and the sound of our bodies colliding, skin on skin slapping, the primal get to know each other in the most visceral way.
And then, it breaks. A force more powerful than either of us could contain erupts within me; pleasure washes over us like a tidal wave, pulling us under—no escaping this bond mended in violence, purity, passion, and pain.
“Scarlett!” It’s a growl, a warning, a promise—a culmination of everything that binds us, and I feel her body quiver and tense around me as her release hits, pulling me further into the abyss beside her.
We’re trapped in a moment that defies explanation, bound by our willingness to push limits, diving into the depths of darkness together, where I finally become free..
9
Fetch
Jax
Something wet slaps my cheek, waking me up from an unplanned nap, later in the day than I prefer. As I crack open an eye, I find Reaper's face inches from mine—his big eyes staring back at me with an intensity that pulls me from my sleep. Sunlight spills through the open window behind him, casting a warm glow around him and marking the end of a day that felt like another uphill battle. As my mind drifts, still heavy with weariness, Reaper affectionately licks my other cheek before whining and howling impatiently, demanding my attention.
I sit up and stretch, a shiver running down my spine as the autumn breeze dances through the window. With a playful grin, I grasp his face and scratch under his chin. He leans closer,his paws unforgiving as he steps anywhere just to reach me, showering my face with his slobbery kisses.
"I'm awake, Reaper. Just give me a minute and we'll head out for a walk," I assure him as I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
His puppy dog eyes search mine, filled with a mix of excitement and yearning, as I grab a change of clothes and move towards the bathroom. I can still hear his soft whines echoing behind me, eagerly awaiting my return. But tonight, there's training to focus on.
Reaper has been my emotional support companion since I got out of prison, helping me manage my anxiety and fears. I've been working with him on specific skills, and this evening I intend to put our hard work to the test. I've been working with him and teaching him to attack any man who so much looks at Scarlett the wrong way, and his bite is much worse than his bark.
From a young age, I had an emotional support dog by my side to guide me through life's battles. They eased the haunting memories of my childhood, of the demands my father placed upon me—nightmares that faded only with the gentle comfort of a dog nearby. After my release for killing my parents, I knew the first thing I needed was a dog. And I found Reaper—a chocolate Rottweiler with piercing glacier-blue eyes like those of a husky.
As I pull my jeans up in front of the small mirror on the back of the bathroom door, I catch sight of the scars that map my body, evidence of the torment I've survived. Tattoos have sought to conceal some of those memories, but the sting of needles is a price I now avoid. Although ink covers much of me, the larger scars cry out for acknowledgment, and I can’t help but despise their presence.
I quickly slip on a fresh white t-shirt, its hem resting just above my pockets. After smoothing it down, I slide my feet into a new pair of black Air Forces, and I grab my black zip-uphoodie from the hook. Checking the pockets, I breathe a sigh of relief upon feeling the cool silk of my balaclava. With a smirk at my reflection, I tuck it back into the pocket and throw on my sweatshirt, leaving the zipper undone.
As I open the bathroom door, I find Reaper lying right outside, his eyes gleaming under the bright glow of the LED lights. He leaps to his feet as soon as I step back into my room, where music and laughter seep through the thin walls of the halfway house. It’s not bad living here. It’s my first experience at a place like this, and I actually find it tolerable, especially since I know a few of the guys, making the atmosphere less awkward.
"Wanna go for a walk, Reap?" I ask as I grab his leash from the hook.
