Red Thorns (Thorns Duet #1) by Rina Kent

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” I speak against his fingers. “I didn’t mean to!”

The groan that comes from deep within his throat is animalistic in nature. His hand comes down on my ass and I shriek. “I said no fucking teeth.”

Slap. Slap. Slap.

Fire burns from his handprints on my ass. My voice turns hoarse with my broken cries and pleas for help, for him to stop this.

He spanks me another time and I come. Just like that, the pain has turned into blinding pleasure.

My thighs and legs tremble, my heart nearly spilling out on the rock as he picks up his pace.

The madness continues as I shake around him. He doesn’t slow down. I’m beginning to learn he never does. Not when he’s on a mission to break every part of me.

He rams faster, harder, like he’s intent on tearing me apart, and for some reason, that triggers another orgasm.

“That’s it, my slut. Choke my dick like you never want it out of this tight cunt.”

I clench around him, riding my orgasm even as I sniffle through the pain. His low growl echoes in the dark forest as he yanks his cock out. The first spurt of his cum paints my ass, followed by the second and the third as he curses in a low voice.

The hot liquid stings against the hot welt caused by his hand. A sigh mixed with broken cries comes out of my lips as he pulls his fingers from them.

I want them inside me again.

I really need him to anchor me at this moment so I won’t be able to think about anything past him and our darkness.

His and mine.

Because I have no doubt about it now.

We’re compatible like he said.

Sick.

“Please…” I beg. “Stop.” Don’t stop.

Please. Let me be alive.

He grabs my assaulted ass cheeks and I gasp, but before I can focus on the pain, he’s thrusting inside my pussy again.

And he’s hard.

Holy shit.

How can he be so ready right after he came all over me?

“No, no, please…”

His palm holds my back as he mounts me so that he’s half-covering me from behind while he rams inside me with savageness that steals my air.

“Please…I’ll do anything…just stop…”

“You’ll take my dick like you were always supposed to, like the toy you are. That’s what you’ll do.”

“No…no…please…God…it hurts. It hurts so much.”

“And it’ll hurt even worse from now on. Because I haven’t even gotten started yet, my slut.”





21





Naomi





It’s a blur of motions.

After the third orgasm, I lost count of what actually happened.

I lost count of how many times he pushed me down against the dirt and spread my legs so he could fuck me deeper.

Or how long he slammed me against the tree and choked me with a hand around my throat as he drove into me like a madman.

Or how many times he slapped my breasts and pulled me up by my nipples, then forced me to take his cock to the back of my throat and choked me with it.

The more I begged, “Please, no,” the more ruthless he became. The harder I cried, the more merciless his touch turned.

I was dealing with a beast, one with no Off buttons and nothing to stop him.

Except for a measly safe word that I stubbornly refused to use.

Because if I do, this whole thing will vanish into thin air. I’ll no longer be chased and fucked savagely.

I’ll no longer feel alive.

And I do feel alive during the entire act. With every thrust and every slap. Every dirty word and every degradation.

No invisible shackles prison my ankles and no hidden fear paralyzes me. The pain is my aphrodisiac and the roughness is my fix.

And I simply get to let go.

By the time Sebastian finishes, I’m curled into a fetal position on the rock with his cum trickling between my thighs, running down my ass cheeks, and clinging to the tips of my breasts.

I think he orgasmed three times and ejaculated twice. I have no clue how the hell he managed to pick up right after he finished, but apparently, it’s possible. His stamina is the craziest thing I’ve ever come across.

I might have been a virgin, but I watch porn, and he was on a whole different level than that. I’m perversely into the hardcore stuff, but even the intensity in those doesn’t compare to whatever the hell happened tonight or what he’s capable of.

My inability to move is no joke. I’m panting, gasping, and still weeping softly as my core pulses.

And the most perverted part is that I would do it all over again. Hell, I wouldn’t even mind if he hadn’t stopped.

That would kill me, though. For real. Not like in some fantasy.

The rustle of clothes sounds from the side and I tilt my head slightly in its direction. He pulls his sweatshirt up and from his silhouette in the dark, I can tell there’s no underwear. Commando. He came prepared to ruin me beyond repair.

Why do I love that so much?

He lowers his hood until it’s covering his head and shadows his eyes, and then he turns.

To leave.

To erase everything that happened.

I barely survived last time, but I can’t do this anymore. I…don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself if I just take his abuse and pretend nothing happened afterward.