Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
“N-no,” Cillian whimpered, even as his body cried yes, as he lifted himself up into those grinding hips and then rocked back into those thrusting fingers; as he spread his thighs wider, opened himself more, traitorous flesh, endless craving. “You’re hurting me, don’t…don’t…”
Brendan’s smile was a slow thing, a wicked thing, the smile of a predator promising every fear that shivered in the dark.
“Filthy boy,” Brendan purred. “Isn’t hurting you the point?”
One last trembling moment.
One last desperate gasp for air, as those fingers left him; as Brendan slid out of his pajama pants to leave every inch of that hard golden body bared, strength vibrating between them; as Brendan’s cock dripped a thick, viscous pool of burning wetness down onto Cillian’s stomach, runnels of slickness pouring down to tease against the base of his cock.
Brendan said nothing.
He didn’t need to.
Not when Cillian’s own stillness proclaimed Brendan’s control; the hold the man hand on him.
Brendan moved over him. Rough fingers sank into his ass, lifting him, spreading him. His entrance throbbed in anticipation, but still Cillian keened softly, so caught up in it, needing to feel that last moment of utter dominance as he whispered,
“Stop.”
Brendan’s cock nudged against him, burning heat of flesh to flesh, sensitivity drawing up tight.
And when Cillian said stop…
Brendan drove inside him, piercing into his body with the viciousness and cruelty of a sword’s thrust, setting Cillian alight with terrible, ripping, wondrously painful pleasure.
His entire world narrowed down to that tight fullness: to the dragging pressure of Brenda’s cock sliding against him from the inside, to the stretching, liquid sin of his muscles changing their shape, his entire body redefining itself to conform to that thick shaft, to make room inside himself for Brendan, to open himself until there was no depth left untouched, no place Brendan hadn’t violated. Cillian’s voice rose high, breaking, shattering—in protest, in pleasure, he didn’t know. He fought against the feelings sinking their teeth into him, thrashing uncontrollably, but Brendan wouldn’t let him move—hot weight pinning Cillian to the bed, fingers crushing down on his wrists with such effortless strength, that cock driving him into the mattress and spearing his body so deep.
Not a second to catch his breath, as Brendan sank into him so roughly, burying fully.
Not when the head of Brendan’s cock nudged that point of fire-spark heat inside Cillian, stoked it, exploded it into an inferno with a single rough kiss of pressure. Pain. Friction. Violence.
Raw and perfect desire.
Spiraling. Consumed. Losing himself. Falling apart. Cillian was chaos, pain and pleasure entwined, as Brendan assaulted his senses with sensation, powerful body flexing over him in punishing, brutal thrusts that came so fast Cillian exploded apart again and again and again, every second his vision, his mind swimming and flying to pieces with each new onslaught of pleasure. Bursting over him, tearing into him, he writhed because he couldn’t do anything else, writhed because his body was no longer his own, writhed because he was branded from the inside out…
And loving every moment of it.
Loving every moment of Brendan here with him…and just as lost as he was.
Cillian could feel Brendan’s desire in every touch, rough fingers stroking over his thigh; in the wet-dripping, rigid invasion of his thickly throbbing cock, so painfully hard inside Cillian; in the harsh panting of Brendan’s damp breaths as he buried his face in Cillian’s throat; in the way he threw all of himself into every thrust, as if Brendan was as desperate to lose himself inside Cillian as Cillian was to be taken, destroyed, completely possessed.
He didn’t know when he stopped struggling, when he started arching up to meet Brendan, flexing his body to open himself more, please, deeper, deeper, fill me up, make me dirty, take me fuck me Brendan, Brendan!—but he was so close, so close, he couldn’t even touch himself but his cock was flooding, wild, pleasure pulling tight strings through his entire length, coursing over him so hotly.
“Brendan,” he gasped, rubbing his cheek to Brendan’s jaw, twisting into him like a cat in heat. “Brendan!”
“…I’m here.” And in that ragged, deep-scorched voice was not contempt…but desire. Emotion. Overwrought, overwhelmed, and suddenly they were not predator and victim but Cillian and Brendan, and those rough fingers let his wrists go, hard hands seizing at him, arms wrapping around him, clutching him close, trembling words kissed against his mouth. “I’m right here with you, Cillian.”
With you.
Mated lips. Frenzied thrusts. Crashing to meet each other, and Cillian wrapped his arms around Brendan’s neck, dug his nails into his back, clung on tight, begged for more. More. Taking Brendan into his body, enveloping Brendan in his heart, and Cillian was sobbing, sobbing but he didn’t care as they moved faster, faster, driven beyond control, beyond anything but this moment where they crushed into each other as if they could fuse into one. Cillian had never felt penetrated so deeply, searching up inside him into some intangible place connected to every nerve in his body, every emotion in his straining heart.