Chapter Thirteen
Byron
Ooh, my baby was mad. There was a fire burning in him for me and I was ready to let him scorch my skin. Fuck. Would his skin be hot if I licked it?
Wilder was covered in my marks. There were bruises along his hips, and bite marks and scratches all over him. His body looked like a twisted piece of art, and I had the desire to paint his skin over and over until the marks were permanent.
Fuck. The thought of him permanently wearing my marks was making my dick hard again. Hell, seeing him with the word ‘BABY’ on his throat and knowing I’d put it there had me wanting to beat my chest like a caveman.
“I knew you were crazy, Byron but this?!” He pointed to his throat. “This is on another level. How fucking dare you?”
I grinned as he lunged for me over the bed and fired a spark of magic at me.
It fizzled against my skin like a hot needle.
He didn’t quite have his magic back, but when he did, he might actually do some damage.
Although, there may also be the chance that it would just settle under my skin.
I still had no idea how this magic vessel worked.
His hands slammed into my chest, and we fell backwards onto the floor. My body jarred with the impact, but I was soon distracted by the sight of Wilder climbing on top of me. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He paused in swinging his arm back, his fist held aloft and I used the moment to roll him beneath me.
He grunted as the movement knocked the wind out of him. I thrust two fingers back inside him and a pleasant rumble left me at how stuffed full of my cum he still was.
“Fuck,” he hissed angrily as I stroked his prostate, his dick hardening as I watched.
“That’s it,” I cooed as he rode my fingers, a dazed look filling his eyes as his abs flexed beneath me. Jesus, what a sight.
I thrust a third finger deep inside him and the sound his hole made was obscene.
Wilder whimpered and his hands clawed down my biceps as he lost himself.
God, those fucking sounds would be burned on my memory forever. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”
Wilder blinked, and the anger returned to his violet eyes. Pain sliced across my cheek as he slapped me hard enough to send my head flying to the side.
“Get off me,” he yelled, shuffling backwards from underneath me.
He wasn’t getting away from me that easily. I grabbed his ankle and pulled him back to me, dragging him back across the rug.
Wilder hissed as the rug left a carpet burn. I flipped him over and managed to grab his wrists in one hand and yank his hips up with the other. I swiped my tongue over his loose hole, vaguely hearing a dull thud as Wilder’s head dropped to the floor.
“I hate you,” Wilder groaned as I swirled my tongue deep inside him, the taste of my own cum coating my tongue.
“I know, baby,” I replied as I wrapped my free hand around his cock. It was dripping with pre-cum. I jerked his cock in slow steady strokes, grinning as he rolled his hips and ground his ass against my tongue.
I pulled back and sank my teeth into the round globe of his ass. He made a sound like a wounded animal, and it sharpened my focus until all that was left was pure primal need.
I licked my way up his spine and wrapped my hand around his throat.
He let out another helpless sound as I pulled him backwards until he was sitting on my lap.
I traced my thumb over his new tattoo, and a possessive spike ran through me.
I let go of his hands and grabbed my cock, lining it up with his entrance.
“You’re mine, baby, and nothing is ever going to change that.” I sank into him, thrusting past the first ring of muscle with brute force.
Wilder’s hands flailed as he tried to find some purchase, finally sinking his nails into my wrist and forearm at his throat.
My cock throbbed at Wilder’s pained cry, and I drove all the way up inside him, loving the way his body reverberated with the impact. The noises coming from Wilder’s lips were more animal than man, and it spurred me on. I had to breed him, possess him, own every goddamn inch of him.
He was mine.
Tears leaked from his eyes, and I swiped my tongue up his cheek, the salty taste of them mixing with the lingering taste of my own cum. I bit at every inch of him I could, his ear, his jaw. I couldn’t get enough. I’d never get enough.
Wilder carried on moaning like a whore, canting his hips back to chase his release. I’d gone past the point of no return, and my hips drove up into him with a ferociousness that was nothing more than pure brutality.
Wilder’s fingers dug deeper into my arm and the sting of his nails slicing my skin open tipped me over the edge. My orgasm punched from me with a force that robbed me of my breath and my hips stuttered, working against me until there was nothing left in me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Wilder moaned as he chased his own release.
I pulled out of him and manhandled him around until he was on his back on the floor, with his dick pointing skyward looking angry and swollen.
I swallowed it down and Wilder’s whole body contracted and jerked as his cock disappeared down my throat. He cried out as his release flooded my mouth, his hands twisting into the strands of my hair painfully.
I waited for him to finish and then crawled up the length of his body and grabbed his jaw, forcing it open before feeding him his own cum.
“Swallow, baby,” I said, my voice hoarse and throat scratchy.
Wilder did as he was told, too far out of it and disconnected to fight me.
“Good boy,” I hummed as I swiped a drop of cum away from the corner of his mouth.
His eyes were glassy and unfocused, and I chuckled at his contented little sigh. I stood up and lifted him into my arms, enjoying the way he nuzzled into my neck and buried his nose against my skin.
I dropped him back onto the bed and took a moment to stare at him. He looked debauched, defiled, and a stab of pride shook me because I did that. I made him look like a mess.
And he’d never looked sexier.
I cleaned him up and then tucked myself into the spot on the bed behind him, loving the way he fit against me.
His fingers curled around my wrist and pulled my arm further up his chest, tucking it more securely against him.
It wasn’t long before his chest was rising steadily and his soft snores filled the room.
I tucked my nose into the curls at the base of his neck and drifted off to sleep with the scent of him filling my lungs.
Wilder’s screams instantly pulled me from sleep. I was awake immediately and my attention was solely on the man trembling in my bed next to me. The sheets were twisted around his legs, and his skin was covered in sweat.
I tapped his cheek gently, trying to pull him from his darkness. “Baby, can you hear me?”
“No,” he whimpered. “No more. Please.”
“Wilder?”
He rolled onto his back, his arms as legs thrashing as if he were fighting someone. He was far too deep into the night terror for me to wake him.
I stroked my hand through his hair and made some sounds I hoped were soothing. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe.”
Wilder let out an agonised cry that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him.
“I’ve got you,” I hushed as I continued to stroke his hair. I kept saying it over and over until his pained cries turned to soft whimpers.
“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He sounded so defeated and his body sagged against the bed. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”
“Kill me,” he sobbed. “Just let me go.”
I froze. What the hell had happened to him? If this was his father, it was just one more thing to add to the list of reasons why I was going to kill that man. Nobody else was allowed to put that look of fear and pain onto Wilder’s face. Nobody but me.
Wilder’s breathing evened out and deepened as he rolled over and burrowed himself into my arms. I pulled him in close, something in me needing him as close as possible.
I tangled my legs with his and pulled the covers back over us.
His hair had curled a little where it had gotten damp and I pressed my nose to the top of his head.
I’d never get tired of dragging his scent deep into my lungs and marking myself with him from the inside out.
My phone buzzed on the table next to me and I knew who it was without even looking. “Hello, Bishop. It’s a bit late for a chit chat.”
“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice full of sleep.
“Yes.” There wasn’t a time when we didn’t know where the other was or what the other was doing. “Wilder had a night terror.”
“Oh.” His pause was filled with so many questions.
“He’s fine, if you wanted to know.”
“Yes,” he replied absently. “That’s good.”
“What is it, Bishop?” I sighed.
“I don’t know. I just…” Bishop’s words trailed off, and he took a few deep breaths.
I looked down at Wilder sleeping soundly whilst curled up next to me and I was hit by this gut punch of need. I knew it was ridiculously animalistic but there wasn’t much of me that was beyond a base need. Wilder was mine, and I wanted to be his everything. “I need you to like him, Bishop.”
He sighed and I could hear him get out of his own bed, the covers rustling down the line. “I can feel how much you want him, Byron. I don’t doubt that you like him. My concern is for him, not you.”
“Concern?”
“You’ll never love him, Byron, and I worry that it won’t be enough for someone like Wilder.”
Why was Bishop being difficult about this? “That’s his choice, not yours.”
He scoffed down the phone. “Yes, but what happens when he leaves, and I’m left to deal with the fallout? Hmm? When you inevitably push him away because you’re too much or he wants more than obsession? Then what happens?”
A slice of pain cut through my heart at my twin’s words. “You think he’d leave?”
“Have you asked him to stay?” he countered.
I didn’t reply. I hadn’t asked Wilder to stay. I’d just stolen him and forced him to be with me.