Kings of Chaos (Dirty Broken Savages #1)(37)

Knox’s hands are big and calloused on my skin, and he drags my shorts down, leaving me bare assed for him to see. I know I’m wet as hell, the proof of my arousal trickling down my thighs enough that they’re slick and sticky.

I hear a belt clicking, and then Knox’s pants must be getting pushed down too, because half a second later, the hot hardness of his cock is there between my legs, rubbing through my wetness. He’s got a piercing at the tip, I think. I can feel it against my skin.

“Fuck,” he hisses, dragging himself through my folds a few times.

I bite back the whine that wants to spill out of my mouth and spread my legs wider, trying to coax him where I want him without having to resort to begging.

My skin is flushed and my body just wants to be filled. It doesn’t help that I can tell Knox’s dick is as big as the rest of him, and it makes me even hungrier for it.

He doesn’t make me wait much longer, thank fuck. He pulls away for a split second and then slams into me, making me take the full length of him in one go.

A cry spills from my lips at the sudden fullness and the slight pain of the stretch it takes to accommodate all of him. I asked him if he was going to hurt me, and I know he could see the gleam in my eyes as I said it, the little part of me that hoped the answer was yes.

I used to feel ashamed of the things I crave now, the things it takes to get me off. Someone with my fucked up past shouldn’t want shit like this, right?

But I don’t give a fuck anymore.

I’ve been to hell. I lived in the dark and the fear and the stink of it.

And I survived.

For so long, I was numb. Now I have to walk right up to the knife’s edge to feel anything. So I take my moments of ecstasy whenever and however I find them—and if it doesn’t look like other people’s pleasure, then fuck them. They don’t have to understand my pleasure, because they don’t know my pain.

Knox fills me up and grinds forward a bit, making sure I can feel every single inch of him inside me, as if I had a choice about that in the first place. He feels even bigger inside me, and I clench around him, writhing in place against the table.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he pants behind me, one hand on my hip. “Fucking hell, you feel good.”

“Fuck me,” I gasp out, trying to work myself on his cock, but I’m caught between the counter and the hardness of his body.

Luckily, he doesn’t need telling twice.

Knox draws his cock out slowly and then slams back in, setting an almost furious pace. It’s like he can’t get enough, and it feels so fucking good.

I can hear how wet I am every time his dick slams into me, making more of my arousal slide out and drip down my legs. The smell of it mingles with the blood and sweat and fear already in the air, and it’s such a heady cocktail.

I feel like I’m high or drunk on it, taking Knox’s dick like I was made for it.

Knox scrabbles for something on the counter, his body bending over mine for just a moment, pressing me down further. His hips don’t stop moving, though. He keeps fucking me when he pulls back, and I can feel cold metal against my skin as he starts cutting my shirt and bra off with one of his knives.

Fuck.

Somehow that just makes it hotter. Knowing he has that kind of control that he can fuck me and use the knife and not hurt me all at the same time.

I wonder what it would feel like if he cut me a little. If he dragged that blade over my skin and made me bleed in even lines while his cock was buried deep in my cunt.

Just thinking about it makes me throb even more, and I clench around his cock again, earning a hissed “Fuck” from Knox.

My shirt and bra fall away, leaving me mostly naked down in Knox’s torture room. My tits bounce as he fucks me harder, and I give up on holding back any noises that I make. It’s just too damn good.

Across the room, the sound of rattling chains catches my attention, and I can see the asshole starting to come around. His head lolls on his shoulders, and there’s a moment where he must forget where he is and what happened to him because he tries to move, and then his eyes fly open from the pain.

They’re still glassy and out of it, and he’s only barely conscious as he looks around the room.

Then his gaze lands on me and Knox, and I can only imagine what he sees. Me bent over, taking it hard as Knox drives into me from behind.

His eyes are heavy with pain, and something about that just ramps my pleasure up higher.

I feel like I’m spinning out of control in the best way, coming out of my body, losing everything that weighs me down and haunts me. In this moment, there’s only me and Knox and the thick press of his cock inside me. And the would-be rapist who watches us and suffers for the shit he did.

Knox must feel it too, because he starts slamming into me even harder, taking me closer and closer to my peak. Judging by the way he’s breathing, he’s getting close too.

Our harsh breathing and moans echo in the room, drowning out the fucker’s pained noises until all I can hear is the sound of us fucking.

I’m so close to the edge, so close to falling apart—and then I feel the sting of sharp metal against my back again. This time, Knox doesn’t cut my clothes. This time, he presses that knife to my skin, drawing the sharp blade down my back in a straight line.

I can feel from the burn of it that he broke the skin, drawing blood, and for some reason, that’s enough to put me over the edge.