Chapter 11
LIES IN THE RUINS
Maggie
Absolute heaven.
I watched Graham work his body over mine, thrusting deep inside, while Hunter watched from the chair by the closet, sipping on his drink and slowly stroking himself, making sure he had the best angles for the latest “Spicy Vice Teaser” for the homepage.
The world was at a standstill, and all I saw was Graham.
Like it was supposed to be—just me and him.
Each slow, filthy thrust sent euphoria through my veins.
His eyes darkened as he leaned back and watched my pussy take every thick inch of him.
When our eyes locked, the rest of the room went somewhere else—like everything outside the space where we lay had gone colorless, and only us remained. Sacred. Untouchable.
A small smirk tugged at his lips before he dipped his head low and kissed me. I melted. My legs wrapped around him, pulling him into me. My fingers carded through his hair as I stared into his eyes.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he growled.
“It’s taking everything not to come inside of you right now.
” Graham’s heated breaths grew heavy as he wound himself deeper.
His cock throbbed, swelling somehow even thicker than before.
He gasped and quickly pulled himself out, fell back on his heels, and blew out a stuttered breath while he stared down at his dick, fists clenched and resting on his thighs.
My gaze trailed down his body to his cock, where it pulsed with the need for release, dripping with my arousal. Then I met his eyes, and he gave me a half-smile, flashing his pointed fang at me.
“Look, Max, I’ve got a lot of things in common with Spider-Man, but shooting ropes to impress your boyfriend isn’t one of them.”
I shut my eyes, holding them closed while I attempted to process the audacity of this man. “Goddammit, Graham.” I playfully smacked his belly.
Hunter set his glass down, pushed up from the chair, and shouldered Graham aside, positioning himself between my legs.
I motioned for Graham to move to my head, where I immediately took hold of his rock-hard shaft.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, even while Hunter fucked me.
Everything about him was a masterpiece. The way his hair fell into his eyes, the way the sweat beaded on his brow as he tried to contain what so desperately wanted out.
Even down to the glistening hair trailing down his chest, over his belly and straight to his cock.
It was all perfection—like he was made for me.
“Maggie. Look at me,” Hunter demanded.
I did, slowing my strokes on Graham and turning my attention to my boyfriend—that’s right, my boyfriend.
Shit.
I reached up to brush his cheek with the back of my hand but was met with a coldness, just like the first time the three of us were together.
“No.” The agitation in Hunter’s voice was so off-putting, even Graham paused.
He was pissed.
“Look at me the way you look at him.”
“I d-don’t… I don’t know what you mean by that,” I said, glancing to Graham, but before I could turn back to him Hunter’s hand was on my face, tugging me back to him. Then a sharp, fiery pain bloomed across my cheek as he slapped me so hard I thought he’d split it.
“Hey!” Graham’s body stiffened as I turned to him holding my face, hot tears welling in my eyes.
Hunter continued fucking me, but Graham didn’t like that.
He lunged over me, tackling him to the ground and knocking over my table and armchair, shattering my new Tiffany lamp from Annie in the process.
“Goddamn it! Would you two stop it!” I moved to my knees and watched them go at it on the floor, my cheek still burning.
Graham’s hand clenched on Hunter’s throat as he crouched over him, his knee pressing into Hunter’s torso. His voice came out so low, so filled with gravel and glass it sounded like he was summoning whatever demon would aid him in the destruction of Hunter Devereaux.
“I swear to god, if you ever lay another motherfucking hand on her like that again, I will fucking rip your goddamn throat out and—”
“Graham, stop!” I quickly dove down to his side and placed a hand on his bicep. “It’s okay. I like pain, remember?”
Why the hell did I say that?
Deep down I knew why. Because if I said otherwise, I’d have to admit what I already knew—that Hunter was getting worse, and I was the reason. I’d cursed him into this. Whatever he was becoming, I’d made it. I didn’t deserve to flinch.
He glared at me. His chest heaved as he released rapid, jagged breaths, proving it was simply adrenaline now. “Don’t you fucking lie to me, Max. You don’t cry when you want it,” he growled. “Not like this.”
I played with the hair at the nape of his neck, twirling it around my finger—trying to subdue the rage boiling under his skin.
“Graham, seriously… it’s okay.” It wasn't. But what was I supposed to say? That I let Hunter stay because I owed him a life I'd stolen? That every time he hurt me it felt like the universe was evening the score? “I’m fine.” I wasn’t.
Graham loosened his grip, let out a deep breath, and grabbed his clothes before slamming the door behind him as he left.
Hunter watched Graham go, something settling in his face—not remorse, not even acknowledgment. He turned back to me like a man who'd simply handled something that needed handling, and repositioned himself between my legs without a word.
I let Hunter finish. But I wasn’t in that room anymore. I was lost in the sea of jumbled up thoughts clouding my mind.
He’d hit me again, and Graham was right. It wasn’t what I wanted.
But I deserved it… I should’ve paid more attention to him… made sure he knew Graham was just a guest.
But I couldn’t shake it. Graham was gone. My heart stormed out that door and took any chance of me actually being “fine” with him.
The air in the room darkened. What once felt passionate, playful, full of heat and arousal, was now empty—bare. Even the warm sunlight shining through the blinds didn’t fill the void that lingered.
“I said look at me,” Hunter grumbled through clenched teeth.
I looked… because I didn’t know what he’d do if I didn’t.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see him. My gaze focused right through him, and all I could see was Graham.
SLAP!
Another strike across my face.
Even though a small yelp escaped my lips and more tears welled at the edges of my vision, I didn’t care anymore. He was under a spell that made him obsessed more than the natural man could tolerate.
It was all my fault.
I slammed my eyes shut as the sting seared into my face, so hot I could feel where each of his fingers left a mark—where my skin swelled.
When I finally opened my eyes, I could see him—Hunter. But I didn’t see him like I saw Graham. No—I saw him for what he truly was. Just the poor son-of-a-bitch I’d conjured to fuck me—to obsess over me. I couldn’t pretend anymore.
Hunter grabbed my arms, pulling me up to him.
“Goddamn it, mo chróí! I said look at me when I’m fucking you!” he fumed, shaking me, before releasing his bruising grip on my arms.
“Hunter, stop! You’re hurting me.” I thought maybe if I said something, it would distract him. But when I looked at him again… I saw the pain hiding behind the anger. The hurt in his eyes.
I should have never asked Graham to join us in the bedroom. Especially when I knew there was still so much of me clinging to him.
He would always have my whole heart, and Hunter knew it from the beginning.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, disconnecting from the moment.
Hunter rolled me over, positioning me how he liked—face down, ass up, submissive.
I clutched the blankets, pulling them to my face, attempting to muffle the sobs that broke free—the sobs that became the evidence of a cracked exterior.
He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back so hard I could have sworn I heard my neck snap.
“Quit crying and let me finish, you filthy whore!” he demanded, grabbing my ass, pulling me close while he impaled me with so much rage it hurt as his dick beat against my cervix.
I felt physically ill, but I stayed silent. The tears wouldn’t stop. The nausea. The pain…
I deserved it all.
He knew Graham and I were a thing before I’d even introduced them. We’d spent a few late nights discussing everything. Hunter knew I loved him, but he also knew I would never feel for him what I felt for Graham.
“You’re selfish, Maggie,” Hunter said between breaths. “Don’t let it happen again.”
“It won’t,” I agreed. I was selfish.
“That’s my good girl.” Each thrust accentuated his point. “You’re mine.”
I grimaced at the pressure.
“Only mine.”
Then his movements stilled, and he gripped me harder, pressing himself tight against my ass, before collapsing onto my back as he filled me.
A small broken yelp escaped me as my knees buckled and we crumpled into the mattress. I hated what this had become in a few short days. I hated that I had caused this… created this.
And now… my favorite words… my favorite pastime.
He’d ruined them.