Page 153 of Love at First Fright

The command shot through me like a power chord cranked to eleven. I scrambled forward on my elbows, reaching for the wooden frame. My fingers closed around it just as Bat’s hands clamped around my hips again.

“Hold on tight, gorgeous. You’re going to need it.”

The warning barely registered before he slammed into me.

Hard. Brutal. Perfect.

My cry tore through the small room, raw and animalistic. He pulled almost all the way out—that agonising drag against my rim—before driving back in, hitting that spot that made my vision white out.

“Bat!” I gripped the headboard like my life depended on it, splintering wood biting into my palms.

He set a punishing rhythm. No mercy, no gentle build-up. Just relentless, powerful thrusts that had the bed frame groaning beneath us, creaks and twangs punctuating each brutal snap of his hips.

I’d expected to enjoy myself. But I didn’t expect Bat to be a fucking sex god.

Had I gone so long without sex I’d forgotten how great it was? Or was my sad boy emo ghost just that good?

The slide out was smooth, making me twist as pleasure lit me up from the inside. But the drive back in was merciless, forcing grunts and whimpers from my throat that I couldn’t control.

“That’s it,” Bat panted behind me. “Take it for me.”

His hand found my hair again, fisting it tight as he rode me with savage intensity. Face down, ass up, completely owned, every inch of me alight with pleasure as Bat railed into me with inhuman strength.

“Bat!” His name came out strangled as he nailed my prostate. My thighs shook, my cock throbbed, demanding his attention, his callused hands around it. “That’s… that’s…”

Words failed. I’d never been fucked like this—never felt this kind of raw power. Like he could break me in half without even trying.

He seemed to mistake my wordless gasps for distress because he slowed. “Charlie?”

“Fuck no!” I reached back blindly, slapping whatever part of him I could reach. “More. Harder.”

“Harder?” Scepticism coloured his tone.

“Harder,” I demanded.

I was almost sorry I asked for it.

Bat’s response was immediate and merciless. He yanked my hips higher, changing the angle until I saw stars with every thrust. The bed slammed against the wall—a steady percussion that would probably wake the dead.

A faraway part of me knew I should be worried, but it was hard to think about anything except the unforgiving slide of Bat’s cock, the burn of the stretch, the way he filled me so thoroughly I forgot where I ended and he began.

I held the headboard like an anchor as Bat fucked me into another dimension entirely, his strong grip keeping me exactly where he wanted me.

“Look at you, baby.” His rhythm never faltered. “Knew you’d look even more gorgeous like this.”

The praise hit me harder than his thrusts. I squeezed around his dick as tightly as I could, drawing a curse from his lips as he drove deeper, harder, chasing something that felt bigger than both of us.

Something shifted. Sensations started to blur at the edges, my mind floating somewhere above my body as Bat continued his ferocious assault. The world narrowed to the slide of skin on skin, the obscene wet sounds, the creak of tortured bedsprings.

I was dimly aware of my own voice—broken pleas and curses—but they seemed to come from somewhere far away. Like I was watching this happen to someone else whilst I drifted, untethered.

“Fuck, you’re so noisy.” A low groan threaded through his words. “I love it.”

A distant creak echoed down the corridor—footsteps on ancient floorboards.

“Fuck! Did you hear that?” I forced myself to form words through the haze of pleasure. “Is that Brad?”

Bat’s rhythm never faltered. If anything, he drove in harder, deeper. “Let him hear how good I’m making you feel,” he murmured against my shoulder, voice thick with pleasure. “Every little sound you’re giving me.”