Page 10 of Corrupt

I bit hard on the inside of my lip, held my breath, forced every whimper back down my throat. If silence was the price of keeping his hands on me, I’d bleed for it.

“That’s it.” Dark satisfaction curled through the words. “Pretty little thing.”

Then he gripped the front of my shirt with both hands and ripped. Buttons exploded, clattering on tile. He didn’t stop. He tore at the seams until the shoulders surrendered, until the whole thing fell apart under his hands. Shredded, useless, expensive fabric meant absolutely nothing to him.

Cold air hit my skin for a heartbeat.

Then his tongue did.

He licked one devastating stroke up the centre of my spine, hot and hungry; it almost put me on my knees. He then rose and twisted me around. My arms dropped uselessly to my sides. I couldn’t see him through the blindfold, but his mouth found mine a second later, kissing me bruising and deeply. He grabbed my arse and lifted me, and I wrapped around him without thinking, flinging my arms around his neck, legs around his waist, letting him hold me there as he invaded my mouth with his tongue.

He sucked my bottom lip. “You taste good, Tricky.”

I fisted both hands in his hair, dragging him closer, lips close to his ear to whisper, “So do you, Richie.”

Something snapped in him then. He growled, low and animallike, and kissed me harder, slamming me into the wall. Then he set me down, tore at my trousers, shoved them and my underwear to my ankles before spinning me back to face the wall where he planted my hands again.

Breath shaking.

Heart gone.

I waited. Braced for whatever he was going to do.

Which was to crouch behind me, sliding his tongue between my cheeks, licking me open, tasting me, fucking me with his mouth. Oh, fucking God. I heard rustling, squeezing, a belt opening. Then his wet fingers spread moisture around my opening, causing me to moan. After that indulgence, he stood, nudging the hot, blunt weight of his cockhead to my entrance.

“Let me in,” he growled in my ear. “Wanna feel you… all the way through.”

I arched back into him without a word, giving him everything he asked for before he even took it. And when he eased inside me, claiming the space between us, and breached me with a force stealing my breath, any thought I might have still had left me completely.

“Fuck, Tricky…” He bottomed out, dropping his forehead between my shoulder blades and let out a rough exhale shuddering down my spine.

I reached back, sliding my palms over his hard lines, dipping down into his jeans to grab his muscled arse and pulled him closer, dragging him into every inch I could give.

“What do you want, pretty boy?” he panted, shoving his jeans down to allow me to roam my hands all over him.

“Fuck me, Richie.” My voice broke on it. Need, plea, promise. “Fuck me ’til it hurts.”

I’d wanted this for too long. I needed the sting, the edge, the proof that it was real and that it was him. He lifted his head. Maybe he looked at me. Maybe he needed to see the fucked-up devotion it took to offer myself like this. Blind, breathless, already gone. But he must already know. I was his. And there was nothing soft waiting for us. Not here, not tonight, maybe never. No slow sweetness tucked behind a back-room door. That wasn’t who we were. We’d spun full circle, charged and cracked and twisted enough to bruise.

Maybe he had wanted slow. Maybe he’d imagined something gentler.

But honestly?

That would’ve hurt more.

So he moved.

He pulled out. Then drove back in, harder. Slamming into me with urgency. Flesh on flesh, the wall rattling with every thrust. And I slapped my palms onto the cold brick to stay upright as he gripped my hips, fucking me filthy. He then spat onto my back, the warm wetness sliding slowly down my spine, his hand following it, dragging through the slick trail before he pushed his thumb inside me beside his cock, easing me more open around him.

“You’re too tight,” he growled.”

“Christ…” The word tore out of me as he pushed deeper, claiming ground inch by inch, stretching me past the point of comfort and straight into something addictive.

Course I was too tight.

I’d closed myself off without him.

I gripped my cock and worked myself in time with his thrusts, every stroke a fight to stay upright as he fucked me apart. But it didn’t last long. How could it? We were both too pent up for it to be sensual. And when he drove in deep, holding himself there, breath catching as a guttural sound ripped from his chest, he came, fingers bruising my hips. I followed seconds later, shuddering, spilling hard against the wall.