Page 126 of Fallen Rook

He rode my ass a little faster, looming over me, savage little grunts leaving his mouth with each sharp thrust. I’d only ever seen him being fucked, not actually fucking, and I loved the optics of it. This new stallion, Enzo. A dark, bold beast that enjoyed devouring no less than he did being devoured.

“Hanging in there, Tomcat?” A raven lock fell across his forehead, making him look more than a heartthrob than anyone could be, and I nodded, choking on the building pleasure.

“Butterfly, fuck, yes. You’re so big.”

“Too big?”

“Perfect big.”

“Aww, too big would’ve stroked my ego better.”

A ripple of laughter made my abs tremble, the fissures of pleasure intertwining with it. I gorged on so much joy, a pleasure so sharp, I worried it’d physically sicken me.

How did he do that? How did he make me laugh and orgasm and ache with sadness at the same time?

The friction was delicious, and the odd feeling had mostly passed, replaced with deep, ferocious pounding.

A thought dawned on me: This is how he fucked his girlfriends. This is how he’ll fuck Katya.

“C’mere.” I clawed into his nape and brought him down, slamming my mouth against his. He sucked my bottom lip, but disconnected quickly, dropping a kiss to my cheek and going harder on my ass. He had one hand on my hip, with the other gathering the precum on my abs and using it to jerk me off. My eyes rolled inside their sockets. This was too intense, too good to be true.

“Fuck, Tom, your ass is milking the orgasm out of me. I’m close.”

Just as he said that, he started hitting the spot I knew was my prostate. Each time he pressed home, the intensity of it took my breath away and turned me inside out, into nothing but a groaning, moaning mess.

“I’m coming,” I panted.

“The fuck you are, Tomcat. Where’s the team spirit?” He stopped jerking me and pressed his thumb against my slit, preventing me from coming.

A few more thrusts, and he let go of my cock, letting me come with him.

Tide after tide of warmth crashed over me. He’d just served me the most intense fucking orgasm I’d ever experienced, and ever would. I felt the hot liquid of his cum spreading inside me, and clenched around him once more, making him groan with pleasure and collapse with his chest against mine.

“Aaaahh, fuck yeah.”

I wrapped an arm around his back, kissing the crown of his head. “You did it. You fucked a fed.”

He snorted, still inside me.

“How’d it feel?” I asked.

“Pretty sure I saw God a second before I came. He fist-bumped me and told me he one hundred percent endorsed whatever was happening.”

My lips curled smugly. “That good, huh?”

He pushed up, grabbed the base of his dick, and slowly pulled out of me, then fell next to me.

“How was it for you?” He dropped a kiss to my shoulder. I loved that he did that. That he always touched, hugged, stroked, and offered physical comfort. I’d noticed it about him during surveillance, too. How he always put a protective hand on his sister, Lila, or offered hugs to his mother, and even his demonic brothers.

“It was…phenomenal.” But uncomfortable, too. I hadn’t thought I’d ever be able to accept this level of vulnerability.

“Phenomenal enough for a repeat?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“If you want, yeah.”

Here was the truth of it—I would let this man stick anything, explosives included, into me, if I knew it’d help me keep him, even if just for a little while. I was beyond reason, dignity, and decorum. Yes, I enjoyed being pounded by him, but I still preferred to be the top. I would, however, be exclusively a bottom if that was what it took to have him.

I didn’t know when the tectonic shift inside me had occurred, but suspected it was during one of our inappropriately, wildly idiotic text chains. Whatever the cause, Vincenzo Ferrante was now imprinted into the very fiber of my soul. I would go to extremes, petrifying measures, to protect him. And those pesky things called morals I’d held to such high standard before? Well, turned out they were more flexible than my feelings for him.