Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
I always thought the only kind available to me was Lenin’s—brutal, ugly, survival-driven—but I’ve never considered the…sexual category.
Well, okay, I have considered it. I just never imagined actually trying.
Me, willingly putting myself in a vulnerable position? Hell to the no. The mere prospect made my skin crawl. Immediately no.
“Or this?”
Slap. Slap. Slap.
My body coils under the relentless blows. He isn’t holding back—and I fucking love it.
More than love.
It’s altering my fucking brain chemistry in a way that I never imagined.
Lenin’s beatings hurt—that’s it. But this?
All my blood is rushing south, turning my dick into a steel rod.
Fuck me sideways.
Marcus slides his hand from my nape to my hair, pulling me up with a fistful so that he’s staring down at me. “You like being hurt, sick boy?”
“You like hurting others, sick boy?”
“Yeah.” An evil grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. “It makes me hard.”
“You really are sick.”
“We can be sick together.”
Slap.
I groan, my eyes drooping closed a little, but I pull my trembling lips into a smile. “Is that all you got?”
“This fucking mouth really knows how to amuse me.”
Slap.
Slap.
Slap.
I didn’t think he could hit any harder, but he proves me wrong.
So damn wrong, because, fuck me, I’ve never had a thunderbolt of strikes rushing through my bloodstream, eating me alive like a hurricane.
He’s the hurricane. Marcus fucking Osborn.
And I’m letting him mess me up because I like it.
And he likes it, too.
He’s in a trance similar to mine, his face caught in a cloud of desire. I’ve never witnessed this level of fucked up before, and it’s launching chaos in my head.
A riot in my body.
I groan deep in my throat as he slaps my ass again and again, alternating between cheeks, the whole time forcing me to look at him.
The worst part is when he stops to stroke the red, stinging skin.
I don’t like it.
Any form of touching, stroking, or care bunches my nerves into a mess.
So I do what I do best—provoke him.
“You’re underperforming, Osborn.”
“And you’re lying, Armstrong.” He slaps my ass again, and my dick is so wound up, I feel it leaking onto the panels. “You let me win because of this, no? Because you wanted me to do crude things to you and use you however I fucking please. You just didn’t want to admit it.”
“Fuck…you…” I lose the battle and slide my hand between my legs.
I just need some light friction.
Just a little.
“Friends,” he drawls. “Say that, and I’ll stop.”
“I’m not your fucking friend.”
He slaps me so hard, I reel, and a moan echoes in the air.
My moan.
I fucking moaned.
“No?” His voice lowers as he releases my hair, letting my head fall forward onto the bench as he reaches down and grabs my hand that’s now wrapped around my cock.
His grip is so tight that it doesn’t allow me to jerk myself. My skates slide on the floor unconsciously, as if that will give me some friction.
“Maybe you’re right. Friends don’t do this.” He squeezes my hand harder the more I try to move it.
“Unghh…fuck… Let my hand go.”
“Say please.”
“Fuck you.”
Slap. “Try again.”
“Ugh…fuck… Ah…just let go…”
“Please. Say it.”
“No.”
“Then let’s stay like this all night long while your cock begs for release.”
Slap.
“Mmm, fuck, fuck…yes, hurt me…”
“Please. Hurt me, please. Now, say it.”
“Please… Oh fuck, please…more…make it hurt…”
I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying anymore, because his hand is moving mine up and down. My dick throbs, and I’m leaking over our fists as he spanks me again.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispers in my ear. “Break for me.”
“Unghhh…fuck…I’m coming…”
“Want to come for me, baby?”
“Ungh…please…fuck!”
“Just like that, yes…that look in your eyes is driving me crazy.”
Slap.
“Mmmm…I’m…I’m…”
“Go ahead. Show me how you come.”
Those words shouldn’t have this effect on me, but I’ve decided that I’m going through an out-of-body experience. Some alien has taken over me, and he’s the one who’s currently having this visceral reaction to Marcus.
At least, that’s what I tell myself as I burst, cursing and begging and spasming all over the place.
I’m shooting cum everywhere, on our hands, on my shirt, on the floor.
Everywhere.
And that’s when I have an epiphany—with my cheek resting on the bench and my ass in the air.
Logically, I should hate this position, but the powerful orgasm I just had completely negates that assumption.
His long fingers sweep my hair from my eyes, and he presses a kiss to my forehead as he murmurs rough words. “You were such a good boy, baby.”
Nausea surges up my throat, the static roaring back with full force until my ears ring. My breaths turn sharp as the pleasure haze evaporates, and I know I’m seconds away from an epic meltdown.
But instead of allowing Marcus to see that fucked-up side of me in full HD, I punch him and do the one thing I’m good at.
Run the hell away.
10
PRESTON
“What’s wrong with that dude?” I whisper to Jude as we sit on the counter in Kane’s downtown penthouse.