Chapter 30 #2
It's not tender or soft. It's punishment and possession and so much fucking history. Old scars, old need, reawakened like a wound torn open. It lights me aflame.
He grabs at my shirt, fighting for dominance and I push him back harder into the wall. I grind into him until he groans into my mouth, cock hardening against my thigh. One hand in his hair, the other gripping his waistband.
I pull back, breathless from our kiss. “Are you still mine?”
His lips part, but his teeth are clenched shut, still grasping for straws.
“Say it.”
“…Yes, Sergeant,” he grinds out.
I growl, gripping the back of his neck and press my forehead to his. He knows I fucking hate when he calls me that. “Then act like it,” I warn, voice low.
I press in slow, deliberate, letting him feel every inch of me. Because I want him to feel it. I need him to remember. To show me there’s still hope for this group. For us. For me.
“You've been acting like a fucking animal,” I murmur into his ear as his eyes fall closed. “Picking fights, marking territory that doesn't belong to you.”
His eyes snap open and I hear the sound of my shirt ripping. “You think it belongs to you?” His voice escalates again.
“I think you forgot who taught you how to mark in the first place,” I smirk as I press into him, feeling the heat of his bare chest against mine through the tear in my shirt.
Grabbing his jaw, I see how his eyes blaze like he wants to murder me… or fuck me blind. I can't tell which one wins. But when I slam my mouth to his again, he opens for me like he always fucking does.
Raw. Starved. Furious.
He groans when my palm slides down, over the hard lines of his abs, into the waistband of his pants, finding his thick cock.
My own twitches as I stroke his, feeling the piercings as my fingers run over the length of him. Lust attempting to cloud my mind. But this isn't purely about lust. This is a fucking reminder.
“You've been walking around like king and commander,” I breathe against his mouth. “But you belong to me, Myles. You begged me to own you, and you love the way I do.”
His hips buck into my hand as he curses, breath ragged.
“You gonna tell me that’s not true?”
His head tips back against the wall, throat bared. “No,” he says breathlessly.
“You gonna pretend you don't want this?”
“…No.”
“Good boy.”
Leaning in, I press my mouth to his throat, just below his jaw. “It’s time you learned to share your toys,” I whisper.
Myles shudders.
Brattiness leaving his body in waves.
It’s been so long since I felt him under me, and that little minx, Ivy, has me wound tight.
Who better than to take it out on than the one who threw her amongst us like meat to starving wolves.
She would shatter under this. Myles can take it.
Grabbing the back of his neck, I shove him into the table, weapons falling off as his thighs collide with it.
“Bend,” I command.
He finally submits without protest, his palms spreading across the wood, bending at the waist. Submitting, in the way only Myles knows how… with fury in his chest.
Stepping up behind him, I unbuckle my belt before yanking his pants down enough to expose what I need. I snap my belt across his ass for good measure. His head lifts off the table as he hisses at the sting.
A smirk tugs at my lips as my cock grows.
Flogging him again, he moans, his skin beginning to flame a beautiful red.
The thought of seeing Ivy bent before me with pretty red handprints on her plump cheeks makes precum bead at the head of my cock.
Rubbing the spot with soothing circles, I pull out my length with my other hand, spitting into my palm and slathering myself.
I haven’t prepped him properly, but we’re not doing tenderness right now. He doesn’t deserve it. Not with the way he’s been acting lately.
Gripping myself at the base, I line myself up. “Are you still my slut?”
Myles growls, refusing to answer. Still hanging onto a thread of control like the brat he is.
Grabbing his jaw, I yank his head to the side. “I asked you a fucking question.”
“Yes,” he grits out. “Fuck… yes.”
I push into him in one brutal thrust, his tight ring strangling my crown. He chokes on a moan that sounds half pained, half relieved. As if this is what he needed all along.
My fingers bruise into his hips as I drive into him again, and again, working my way deeper into his ass. The sounds we make echoing in the stark room.
Myles braces against the edge of the table, panting, knuckles white, cursing under his breath. But his body rocks back to meet my every thrust.
“You wanna fight with me over her,” I snarl, leaning over him to graze my teeth along the back of his neck. “But you forget… I’m the one that holds your leash.”
He pushes back into me like he wants to take control, but I grab his wrists and pin them behind his back, holding them with one hand. The other wraps around his throat, choking him. Reminding him of the power I hold over him.
“You think dominating her makes you the boss?” I hiss into his ear. “Proper domination takes patience. It requires control to take someone to the edge without letting them fall. You think you’re gonna win her over with fear and force?”
He groans, deep, guttural.
“Well, she's not yours to win anymore. I’ll share her with you… but you’ll beg me for it. You’ll earn the right to touch her again while you grovel at our feet.”
“You fucking hypocrite,” he growls back, voice cracking as I thrust deeper. “You're already obsessed with her.”
I laugh bitterly, hating the truth of it. “Yeah. I am. But I'm still in you, aren't I?” I emphasise with another brutal thrust.
Myles shudders under me, his walls fluttering around me. He's already close, his whole body twitching, muscles flexing.
“Come for me, you fucking brat,” I demand, voice rough.
“I'm not…”
“Don't fucking lie. You're about to fall apart.”
He lets out a strangled cry when I reach down and fist his rock-hard cock.
Tightening my grip, I stroke him in time with each punishing thrust as if I'm trying to rewrite our memories. Memories of Ivy running to Zane with tears in her eyes. Of everything I learnt about her this morning. Then having to choke Myles until he passed out on his bedroom floor.
“Phoenix…” he whimpers.
“I know,” I breathe, forehead falling to his back as my tone softens. “Come for me, little maniac.”
He comes with a loud, broken grunts, his hips jerking as hot come spills over my hand and onto the floor.
Following him over the edge, I bite down on his shoulder, groaning as I bury myself deep and fill him up. The heat of our release cuts through the burn of everything I haven't said.
We stay connected for a moment, both of us breathing hard, pressed together in the aftermath of the storm. My chest against his back. Sweat dripping off our bodies.
Pulling out slowly, I grab a rag from the table to wipe us both down. Myles stays silent, forehead against the wood. As if he’s being tortured by his thoughts.
Good. He needs to think more, act less.
I press a kiss to his shoulder, the skin already angry where I bit him. I know he gets just as much satisfaction as I do from seeing my marks.
Stepping back, I lower my voice. “She's not going back in that cell and that’s final. She’s ours now and we need to work together. I’ll help you repair things, but it’ll only work if you’re a good boy for me.”
If she goes down, it’ll ruin us all. I don’t know how she got her claws in so deep, but I have to hold this group together and—like it or not—she’s fused herself to us in a way that would shred us if we ever lost her.
Myles turns his head, eyes dark and heavy. But he’s smart enough to stay quiet. He might love to push boundaries, but he can tell when to stop.
My jaw clenches, that pressure in my chest still there.
I turn to leave but stop in the doorway. “She’ll sleep with us… but you have to earn it before she steps foot in your bedroom again.”