Page 25 of The Beast Who Begged Me

My anger, hot and sharp, flares up in response. “Can’t I?” I push him backward, trapping him between me and the sideboard. He lets out a soft oof as he hits the wood. “Let’s be clear about something. I bought you at auction. I protected you from everyone who’s come at you. And I am still the one thing standing between you and a shallow grave. So when I tell you to do something, you do it.” The possessive words hang in the air between us, ugly and raw.

And then something shifts.

It’s always there between us, this dangerous current that runs beneath everything else. Tonight, in the darkness of our enemy’s house, it’s a riptide. Caligula’s breathing has changed, gone fast and shallow.

His head falls back. “Make me,” he whispers.

And that’s all it takes. The anger doesn’t vanish. It twists, reforms into molten lust. The need to punish him for his recklessness, to mark him, to remind him who he belongs to, stabs right through me.

“You want to play it like that?” I growl, and I’m already working at the tie of his robe, yanking it open. “Fine.”

My hands are on him, one gripping his hip, the other sliding around to the small of his back to pull him flush against me. I feel him getting hard already, and the knowledge that even when we’re arguing, he wants this—wants me—is a drug.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say in his ear.

“No,” he gasps, stubborn to the last. “Here. Here. Where he died.”

He sags to his knees, taking me with him to the floor. He wants me to fuck him where his grandfather drew his last breath? It’s sacrilege.

And it’s the dirtiest, most exciting invitation I’ve ever received.

Besides, some part of me, the part that isn’t already burning for him, understands that this isn’t about me at all. The first domino in his own fate fell here on this floor, and he’s going to claim it back.

This won’t be a desecration, but an exorcism.

“Little prince,” I breathe. “You are insane.”

“Come on,” he says, tugging down the pajama pants I pulled on before I followed him down here.

My cock is already drooling for him, and he pulls away from me to drop to his hands and knees. I’m right behind him, shoving the loose robe up over his ass. His hole is just there, a tight knot waiting for me to open it up. I lean in to give it a harsh lick, just to feel him shudder and gasp.

I spit on my fingers and shove two into him in a brutal stretch. He grunts with a mix of pain and pleasure, pushing back against me, a greedy little slut who can’t even wait to be prepped properly. I thrust and twist, and I’m not gentle about it. He’s so tight. A hot, perfect, velvet grip that’ll make me see stars.

I want him. Now.

I pull my fingers out and hear him whimper at the loss. “Don’t worry, golden boy. I’m gonna fill you up.”

I grab my dick, slick it with spit and pre-cum, and line the head up with his twitching hole. “You’re a fucking mess,” I tell him as I start to push in. “An arrogant, reckless, beautiful mess.” He cries out as I breach him slowly, as the thick head of my cock splits him open. “And that’s why you’re getting fucked in the dark on the floor where your grandfather died.”

My hands are on his hips, holding him still as I sink in inch by slow, agonizing inch. It’s a fight to get into him. His body yields to mine, but not easily. I have to work for every bit of him, have to hold back from just shoving home, because I don’t want to damage him.

So I need to be careful. I need to remember he was in the hospital just yesterday. But I can’t hold back, not when he’s so hot and perfect and mine.

I bottom out at last with a final, brutal push that forces the air out of his lungs.

“Ah! Ah—Dami—” His fingers scrabble for purchase in the carpet but he’s completely at my mercy.

And I have none.

“Is that what you wanted?” I pull back until just the head of my dick is caught in that tight little ring, stretching him out, and then I slam back into him. My hips slap against his ass, the sound of it loud in this silent, haunted room. He struggles to stay upright under the force of my fucking, and I have to yank his hips up higher.

“Did you think you could get away with it?” I ask, punctuating each word with a thrust. “Sneaking down here all by yourself? Looking for some shiny toy?” I lean forward, blanketing his body with mine, and bite the back of his neck hard enough to leave a mark. “You’re my toy. And I’m gonna fuck this hole until you remember that.”

He’s moaning now, a continuous, desperate sound that makes my balls ache. He’s clenching around me, a hot vise milking me for all I’m worth. I feel every twitch and shudder, every wave of pleasure that wracks his body.

My hand snakes around to the front and I grab his cock. It’s hot and slick, leaking all over my fingers. He gives a choked sob as I twist my wrist, my grip firming up just the way he likes it.

“You like that, don’t you?” I murmur in his ear. “You like it when I’m mean to you. When I use you like my own personal fuck toy.” I pump faster, drive deeper, change up the angle so I’m hitting that spot inside him that makes him buck like a bronco. “I like it, too. And you know it’s true. You belong to me. You’re mine.”