Chapter Twenty-Four #2
"You're going to tell me," I snarl, my thrusts becoming more erratic, more forceful. "You're going to beg me to let you come, and you're going to give me what I want."
She's writhing beneath me, her body arching, her head thrashing from side to side. Her nails drag down my back, the sharp, stinging pain a welcome distraction from the maddening pleasure. I can feel her getting close again, her walls tightening around me, her breath hitching in little gasps.
"Please," she begs, her voice a raw, ragged sob. "Cassian, please…"
"Please what?" I demand, my rhythm becoming punishing, more erratic. "Please let you come? Please stop? Please what, Aria?"
"Please let me come," she whispers, her eyes wide, pleading. "Please, I'll do anything."
"Anything?" I ask, my lips curling into a cruel smile. "Then tell me the truth."
She just shakes her head, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. It’s a final, silent act of defiance.
"Wrong answer," I growl.
I pull out of her and she sobs, a raw, frustrated sound that’s music to my ears. Before she can recover I'm kneeling over her chest, my cock jutting out, angry and slick with her arousal. I wrap my hand around the base, stroking it slowly, my gaze boring into hers.
"Open your mouth," I command.
She hesitates for a fraction of a second, a flicker of rebellion in her eyes.
It’s all the invitation I need. My other hand shoots out, wrapping around her throat.
It’s not a gentle squeeze. My fingers are a band of steel, a possessive claim that makes her head spin.
Her eyes widen in a mixture of shock and fear.
"Open. Your. Fucking. Mouth," I enunciate each word, my thumb pressing into the frantic pulse at the base of her neck.
Her lips part, a silent, gasping surrender. I lean down, bringing my face close to hers, so close I can see the individual flecks of gold in her terrified eyes. I gather the saliva in my mouth and spit. It lands on her tongue, a hot, intimate mark of ownership.
"Swallow," I command, my grip on her throat tightening.
She complies, her throat working against the pressure of my fingers. Her body trembles with a visible wave of submission. Her cunt clenches, a desperate, needy pulse that I can feel from here. She's enjoying this. She’s getting off on the violation, on the sheer, brutal power of it.
I release her throat and she drags in a ragged, desperate breath, her chest heaving. I shift, positioning my cock at her lips. "Now, you're going to take me," I say, my voice low and rough. "And you're going to take all of me."
I don't wait for her to be ready. I thrust forward, burying myself in her hot, wet mouth. She gags, her body convulsing but I hold her still, my hands tangling in her hair, holding her head in place. I start to move, a brutal, unforgiving rhythm that’s all about my pleasure, my dominance.
"Yeah, that's it," I growl, my hips snapping against her face. "Choke on it. Fucking take it."
Her eyes are wide, streaming with tears, but she doesn't look away. She’s watching me, her gaze a chaotic mix of fear and a dark, defiant arousal. Her hands are fisted in the sheets, her knuckles white. She’s fighting it, fighting her own body’s response, but she’s losing.
I can feel the tension coiling in my groin, a tightening, aching pressure that’s about to break.
But I’m not done with her yet. I want to see her come, to see her shatter, to feel her cunt clench around my cock as she screams my name.
I want to own her pleasure, to be the one who gives it to her, the one who takes it away.
I pull back, leaving her gasping, a string of saliva connecting her swollen lips to my cock. I flip her over again, my movements fluid and economical. She's on her hands and knees before she can even process what's happening. I'm behind her, my hands gripping her hips, pulling her back onto me.
I thrust into her, hard and deep, burying myself to the hilt in one brutal, possessive stroke. She cries out, a raw, broken sound. I set a punishing pace, my hips snapping against hers, the sound of flesh on flesh filling the room.
"You're so fucking tight," I growl, my hands moving from her hips to her tits, squeezing them, pinching the nipples until she whimpers. "This cunt was made for me. Made to be fucked by me."
I lean over her, my chest pressed against her back, my lips brushing her ear. "You're not going to tell me, are you?" I whisper, my breath hot against her skin. "You're going to keep your secrets. You're going to hold out on me."
She just shakes her head, a silent, stubborn refusal.
"Fine," I snarl. "Have it your way."
I straighten up, my grip on her hips tightening. I start to move again, a relentless, punishing rhythm that’s designed to break her. I reach around, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in tight, punishing circles. She cries out, her body arching, her back bowing.
I can feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around me, her breath hitching in little gasps. Her nails dig into the sheets, her knuckles white. She's fighting it, fighting her own body's response, but she's losing.
"Don't you dare come," I warn, my voice a low growl. "Not until I say so."
She whimpers, a raw, broken sound. "I can't…"
"Yes, you can," I grit out, my fingers working her clit faster, harder. "You will. You'll hold it for me, or I swear to god, I'll stop. I'll leave you here, aching and empty. Do you want that?"
She shakes her head, her face buried in the blankets, her sobs muffled by the fabric.
"Then be a good girl and hold it," I command, my thrusts becoming more erratic, more forceful.
I'm pushing her to her limits, testing her control, her obedience.
I want to see how far I can take her, how much she can handle before she shatters.
I want to see her break, but she's stronger than I thought.
Her body trembles, her muscles are tense with the effort of holding back her release, but she's holding on. She's not giving in.
I'm impressed, and that pisses me off. I don't want to be impressed, I want her to be a puppet, a plaything for my pleasure. I want her to be weak. But she's not. She's fighting me, not with words but with the sheer strength of her will, and it's making me fucking crazy.
I feel a fresh wave of rage, a raw, untamed fury that I can't control. I pull out of her, the loss of contact a sudden, brutal shock. She cries out, a raw, frustrated sound that’s music to my ears.
"On your back," I order, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.
She scrambles to obey, her movements clumsy, her body trembling.
She's on her back now, her legs spread wide, her chest heaving.
I'm between her thighs in an instant, my cock nudging at her entrance.
I don't enter her. Not yet. I lean over her, my hands on either side of her head, caging her in.
My gaze bores into hers, a silent, unspoken threat.
"You're going to tell me," I snarl, my voice a low growl. "Or I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name. Until all you know is my cock inside you. Until all you can say is my name."
Her defiance is a living thing in her eyes, a spark of rebellion that refuses to be extinguished. She's enjoying this. She's getting off on the power struggle, on the sheer, brutal intensity of it.
"Fuck you," she whispers, her lips curling into a defiant smirk.
A dark, savage satisfaction twists my lips. "Wrong answer."
In one swift, fluid motion I drive into her hard and deep, burying myself to the hilt in one brutal, unforgiving thrust. Her cry is a raw, ragged sound that's swallowed by the room. I set a punishing pace, my hips snapping against hers, the sound of flesh on flesh filling the room.
"This cunt is mine," I growl, my hands moving from her hips to her tits, squeezing them, pinching the nipples until she whimpers. "Made to be fucked by me. To take my cock."
Her hands fly to my back, her fingers finding purchase.
She drags her nails down the hard planes of muscle, not gently but with a savage, desperate force.
I roar, a sound of pure, unadulterated pain and pleasure.
The sting of her nails is a welcome distraction, a sharp, stinging counterpoint to the maddening pleasure of her tight, slick heat.
"You little wildcat," I snarl, my eyes blazing. "You want to play rough? Let's play rough."
My hand flies to her throat again but this time, there is no gentle squeeze.
My fingers wrap around her neck, a tight, constricting band that makes her head swim.
The world narrows to the feel of her slick heat around me, the pressure on her windpipe, the look in her eyes.
She’s not playing anymore. This is real.
"Is this what you wanted?" I snarl, my voice a raw, ragged sound. "To feel me claim every inch of you? To be at my mercy?"
She can't answer. She can only moan, a weak, breathy sound. The lack of air, combined with the relentless pounding of my cock is a dizzying, intoxicating cocktail of sensation. Her body is no longer her own. It is a vessel for my pleasure, a canvas for my rage.
"You're mine," I growl, my thrusts growing erratic, more forceful. "This pussy is mine. This throat is mine. You are mine."
My rhythm is punishing, each thrust a deliberate, brutal claim. I'm watching her, watching the way her body responds to me, the way her back arches, the way her fingers dig into my skin. She's fighting it, fighting her own body's response, but she's losing.
I can feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around me, her breath hitching in little gasps. Her nails dig into my back, the sharp, stinging pain a welcome distraction from the maddening pleasure. She's trying to hold back, trying to deny me this final piece of her, this ultimate surrender.
But I won't let her.
"Come for me," I command, my voice a low growl. "Come on my cock. Let me feel this tight little cunt squeeze me."
She shakes her head, a silent, stubborn refusal. A final, desperate act of defiance. It's the wrong answer.
"I said, come for me," I repeat, my grip on her throat tightening.
My other hand moves from her hip to her clit, my fingers finding the hard, sensitive nub and rubbing it in tight, punishing circles.
The dual assault is too much. Her body tenses, her back arching, a raw, ragged scream tearing from her throat.
Her walls clench around me in a series of tight, rhythmic pulses that milk my cock, pulling me deeper, demanding my release.
"Fuck," I grit out, my own release cresting, a tidal wave of pleasure that crashes over me, leaving me breathless and spent.
I bury myself to the hilt, my cock pulsing, filling her with my hot, sticky seed.
My release is a violent, shuddering wave.
I roar into her mouth, my body convulsing as I empty myself into her.
For a long moment I stay there, my forehead pressed against hers, our breath mingling in harsh, ragged gasps. The red mist of rage begins to clear, replaced by the cold, sick feeling of what I’ve just done. I can feel the frantic beat of her heart against my chest.
I pull back slowly, my eyes searching hers. The terror is still there, but underneath it, there's something new. A flicker of something hard. Unbreakable.
And I understand.
My goal wasn't to break her. It was to break her curiosity.
She was digging. She was walking straight toward the abyss, and she doesn't even know it's there.
The truth of what my family did—what I let happen—is a poison that will do more damage than my body ever could.
I had to stop her. I had to make her so afraid of me, so afraid of looking for answers, that she would just… stop.
In my monstrous, panicked mind, this was an act of protection. A controlled burn to stop a wildfire.
But I failed.
I see it in her eyes. I didn't scare her away from the truth, I just gave her a new reason to search for it.
I haven't broken her will; I've forged it into steel.
I tried to use pain to save her from a greater pain, and all I did was become the monster she will want to destroy when she finally learns everything.
She won.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. I assaulted her, I took her against a wall, and she withstood it all. She kept her secret.
Without a word, I let her legs fall to the side. Her jeans are around her ankles, her shirt is rumpled, and my mark is a dark, angry bloom on her pale skin. She looks violated, broken. But her eyes… her eyes hold my gaze.
I rise to my feet and walk away, the silence in the loft a testament to my failure. I didn't break her. I may have just made her stronger, and that is a far more dangerous problem than a simple lie.