I whimper, walls clenched tight around him. It hurts.
His mouth drops to my chest, biting my nipples through the thin fabric. The sharpness drags a moan from my throat.
He’s unraveling.
“You,”thrust“Fucking,”thrust“Slut.”
Each word lands like a slap, like a sentence. My body takes it, rides it,needsit.
He fucks like he wants to break me, and maybe he does.
God, he feels so fucking good. Thick. Deep. Just the right amount of violence.
My heart races, my skin slick with sweat, my nipples hard enough to ache. He yanks one strap down, sucks my nipple into his mouth, biting hard. My breath hitches.
“Roman,” I gasp. “More. Please. Hurt me.”
He growls and flips me, slamming me into the mattress. The air punches out of my lungs.
He pounds into me hard, fast. One hand grips my hip, the other slaps my pussy between thrusts, over and over until the skin goes red and sore.
“You better not be fucking with me, Bryn.” His hand wraps around my throat tight. “I’ll fucking kill you.”
My air cuts off completely, and my lungs scream.
My vision blurs as my hands scrabble against the sheets. My body trembles, going limp beneath him, and still he keeps thrusting.
“Roman,” I choke, the word barely a whisper.
Tears slip down my cheeks. My arms fall useless at my sides. Darkness creeps at the edge of my sight.
Just before I black out, he grunts and releases me.
I gasp, wheezing, and feel his release spilling inside me.
He pulls out immediately.
“You don’t deserve to come,” he spits, zipping up. “Not until I know what the fuck happened yesterday.”
Then he’s gone. The door slams behind him.
I lie there, trembling. My throat raw. My chest heaving.
Thatfucker.
Miles goestoday.
And Roman?
Roman will follow.
Max
We move quietly through the streets, the only sound the occasional flap of wings as birds scavenge for their next meal. The sky is heavy, thick with clouds, casting everything in this eerie grey light that makes the town feel even more abandoned than it probably is.
Knox leads, focused and alert. He’s scanning for anything we can use: weapons, tools, parts for traps. But so far, the place looks picked clean. There’s no sign of life, though there used to be acommunity here.
He whistles softly and drops into a crouch, rifle angled down. We follow his lead.
