Chapter 25 A Moment of Reprieve #2
“Mark me,” I whisper, my breath already coming in short pants. “I want you to leave marks on me, Max. I want them to be visible, even days after we’re done. I want you to claim me. Now and forever.”
“Anything you want.” His words are almost reverent, and then his teeth are making their way from my rib cage down to my hip, mouthing at the sensitive curve until the flesh is swollen and tender.
I know what’s about to happen, and I’m as desperate for it as I am terrified.
This is different from play or even lovemaking.
I spread my legs, and he keeps on making his way until his face is in line with my inner thighs and his teeth are clamped around the soft skin. He bites down, not letting go.
A spike of pleasure and pain burns through me, stealing my breath as my fingernails dig into the blanket. I need this. I need him. Need this escape and the way his touch forces every other thought out of my head.
“More,” I gasp, clawing at his hair to draw him closer. “Mark me as yours, Max.”
Max shifts his grip, testing the skin and judging the pressure. I squirm, the pleasant tension growing in my core, making me ache with a desire for relief. He bites down again, sending little pinpricks of pain shuddering through my body.
My answering moan is half-choked, my breath escaping in short gasps as he draws on the bite mark he’s left behind. His hands find mine, fingers intertwining as he trails a path of bruising bites and merciless marks up my other leg.
I’m trembling when he reaches my chest, his breath ghosting over my nipples. I know what he’s going to do before his teeth even scrape against my sensitized skin. His smirk, laced with possessive pride, sends a thrill of anticipation through me.
“God, I love you,” I breathe as his hand wraps around the base of my neck and pins me to the rug. My back arches, pressing my body into his, every point of contact searing with electric need.
He applies just the barest pressure to my throat, cutting off the flow of air, holding me like I’m both his greatest fear and the answer to every prayer.
“Hold still for me,” he breathes, leaning in until his mouth hovers just above mine, our breath mingling. “Remember, if it becomes too much, tap my arm. Red means stop.”
“I love you.” The words are barely intelligible, but I know he can read the devotion in my eyes. The trust. The faith that whatever the future holds, the two of us can survive it. “Now take what’s yours.”
“It’s going to be intense.” His thumb sweeps along my collarbone, the other hand applying gentle pressure to my airway. “Be brave, Belle. My precious girl.”
With that, he squeezes my neck and drags his cock against my most sensitive spot, the thin fabric of his boxers doing little to stifle the sensation. I can’t move—not without compromising his choke hold—so I focus all my attention on his eyes, on the hunger I see etched in those deep brown pools.
He thrusts harder this time, maintaining eye contact and a steady pressure on my throat. I can’t even moan, can barely make a sound as he sets a rough pace, pleasure and pain mixing with near-mindless need as I cling to consciousness.
“My perfect girl,” Max breathes, the firelight illuminating his handsome face like something out of my wildest dreams. “Look at me while you come.”
I fall over the edge with a surge of bliss so sharp it borders on agony, my back arching and hands clawing at the floorboards, darkness closing in as his fingers constrict.
“Yes, that’s it,” he praises, releasing his grip.
Breath rushes into my lungs as I sprawl beneath him, the pleasure turning my limbs to liquid. He’s breathing hard, every inch of him quivering with barely restrained desire.
“I have big plans for you, Belle,” he promises, his voice carrying the trace of a growl that makes my pulse skip. “And I won’t let anything—or anyone—take that away from us.”
He rips off his boxer briefs, tosses them somewhere beyond the ring of candlelight, and his cock springs free, seeming to rise with an eagerness that matches my own. He kneels in front of me, legs on either side of my chest, and his straining shaft bobs toward my lips.
I sigh and let my mouth drop open, my tongue darting out to wet my bottom lip.
“You’re gorgeous when you’re just broken enough for me.” His fingers lace through my hair, yanking my head backward. That vulnerability again, that look of complete possession, forces a smile from me.
I lean forward and close my lips around the tip of his dick, swirling my tongue around the throbbing crown. It’s worth it to hear his sigh, to feel his body shudder.
“And you’re fucking delicious,” I whisper, taking him a bit deeper, running my tongue down the underside of his shaft.
He adjusts his angle and pushes himself in a bit farther, and I relax my mouth and my throat, letting him find his own rhythm. Letting him claim what’s his. He pulls back, then slides himself in again, taking more and more, his balls resting against my chin.
His groan sounds through the cavernous space, and the sound makes my pussy clench. I want to reach for him, but Max keeps a firm grip on my hair, holding me still.
It’s an incredible feeling to have him use me like this. To claim me for his own and not care if I come or not. It’s been too long, and this feels… dirty. But also, meaningful. All those things we’ve lost because we weren’t safe. Because of a dark world that wanted to swallow us whole.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, thrusting a bit deeper.
Despite the uncomfortable angle, my left hand finds its way between my legs, dancing along my slit, coating my fingers with the proof of my desire.
Max is watching with almost clinical detachment, and that makes it so much hotter.
I match my strokes to his thrusts, sliding my fingertips along the smooth hardness of my pleasure button.
Pleasure spears through my body, and fireworks dance across my closed eyelids.
Just when I’m about to ask for more, just when the pressure building inside me is about to explode, Max pulls back, and I cough a bit.
“Good girl.” He releases me, then grins down at me and wipes a tear from my eye. “On your knees, Belle. I’ll fuck you from behind now.”
I scramble onto all fours, glancing over my shoulder as he lines himself up with my slit. He’s standing behind me, muscles tensed, face creased in concentration, and his cock drips precum.
God, he’s huge. I never really noticed before. Maybe because I was so focused on the pain, trauma, and the terror when we’d been together before. But now…
“Take a deep breath.” He leans forward to place a kiss on my spine. “I’m about to fuck you senseless, and that isn’t going to be easy on you. But tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”
A shiver passes through me. Not fear, not hesitation. Anticipation. I swallow the fear and nod, turning my head to glare at him over my shoulder. “Don’t you dare fucking stop, Max Brooks.”
“Oh, it’s on now.” He smirks and places a hand on my lower back, flattening me to the blanket, and after a moment, he positions the tip of his cock between my entrance and drags it up and down, until the shaft is slick with juices, and then he slowly presses it against my pussy.
He grabs me by my hips, nails digging into my flesh, and buries himself inside me with one forceful thrust.
I inhale sharply at the invasion—not painful, exactly, but an acute reminder of how little patience I have for restraint or kindness in this moment. Need coils through me, hot and sharp and wild, my mind falling away as my body takes over.
But Max doesn’t move, doesn’t let me escape into the physical. He holds me there, impaled, my heartbeat pulsing around his cock.
“Ask me for it,” he whispers, and I can hear the strain in his voice. Every muscle tenses, holding the line. Holding onto control.
I squeeze my inner walls, trapping him inside me, and moan, an inhuman sound that turns into a sob. It’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough. My back arches, offering my body for his possession, but still he doesn’t move.
“Ask for what you want,” he repeats, his voice tight with effort.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, the words coming unbidden, a desperate prayer I can’t hold back. “Max, fuck me. Claim me. Mark me as yours, even if it ruins us. Even if we never come back from it. Please. Please.”
“This isn’t about ruined lives or lost dreams,” he groans, pulling out and slamming into me again. “It’s about saving each other. About claiming this moment for us, the only part of our lives that doesn’t belong to them. Here. Now.”
With that, his hands tighten on my hips, he yanks me upright and drives himself in, until his cock is deeper inside me than I ever thought possible.
He’s rough and possessive, fucking me harder than we’ve ever fucked, making my skin burn where he slams into me.
There’s no finesse here, no expert skills.
Just us. Two hearts exposed and broken, and his need to make me whole.
My nerves scream at the sudden stretch, but he’s right: this isn’t about pain or sorrow or suffering. It’s about giving each other something untouchable, something honest. So I relax into it, even as my inner walls rebel against the violent intrusion.
“More,” I gasp, folding myself over the edge of the cushion, burying my face in the tattered fabric. “Fuck me harder, Max. Make me yours.”
“Oh, I will,” he growls, his pace increasing. I can feel my blood beating at my temple, the pressure inside threatening to explode. “Grab your throat. Do it now.”
My hand rises to my throat on instinct, and he wraps his palm around my wrist, digging his fingers into my pulse point. He holds on, steadying my neck against the storm he’s creating.
The air is a roar in my ears, fireflies dancing along the edges of my vision as pressure builds inside me, threatening to tip me into the abyss. But this isn’t like the edge we found at the cabin. This isn’t a desperate surrender.
This is a victory.
And when it explodes, my veins light up and my body hums with power, everything—fear, paranoia, regret—all dissolving in the white heat blazing between us.
“Fuck yes,” Max grits out, his movements growing erratic. “Now come for me again, Belle. Squeeze that tight little cunt. Milk my cock.”
His command is so demanding, my body instantly obeys, clenching around his throbbing shaft.
He breathes in deep, his motions halting, then he pounds into me one last time, coming with a ferocity that echoes through my bones. I can feel the hot jets of release hit my inner walls, marking me as his in a way no contract or criminal charges can erase.
He collapses against me, both of us gasping for air, and presses a kiss to the back of my neck. “Feel better?”
“Very much.” I melt against his chest, reaching up to intertwine my fingers with his. “Now… let’s figure out how we’re going to hunt these bastards down and make them bleed.”
“First,” he says, his voice regaining some of its familiar mischievousness, “how about a shower and a glass of wine? I’m pretty sure we’re gonna need more alcohol before the night is through.”
“Only if it’s red.”
He chuckles. “Red it is.”
Gentle warmth wraps around us, cradling us in the bubble of this moment. The sense of safety is an illusion, a temporary reprieve from the fear waiting on the other side of this sunrise. But for now, we can believe the lie.
And tomorrow… Well, that’s a problem for the us of tomorrow.