Page 93 of The Boy I Loved
“Fuck,” he grunted. “That’s it. Ride my cock like the dirty little whore you are.”
Something definitely had to be broken in my brain, because the degrading term only spurred me on, sending another current of heat through my body like a shockwave.
“Oh God,” I whimpered, the pleasure overstimulating me. I could feel myself getting closer to that familiar edge and I desperately wanted to leap right over it.
“Speak to me,” he whispered, his voice thick and strained with lust. “Tell me how it feels.”
My arms tightened around him, my hips gyrating frantically. His cock slid in and out, hitting that sweet spot every fucking time. “So good.”
He hummed in response, leaning forward to nip my lower lip between his teeth. The way he kissed me was animalistic and rough. “Do you want me to stop?”
My heart flipped wildly. Was this another mind game? Would he actually stop if I asked him to? Or did he want to hear me say that I wanted him?
“This is your one chance, Hazel.” He growled. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
The thought of him stopping, leaving me like this, had dread filling me. It felt too good. What the hell was wrong with me? He was a murderer and a rapist, yet here I was, grinding on his dick.
“Don’t stop,” I said suddenly, surprising even myself.
He glanced over his shoulder, his lips curling at the edges. It took me a moment to register what was happening, but that was when I saw it. Dom had stepped in again, probably to see if we were done. Tristan goaded me into saying that to hurt Dom. Guilt slashed through me and my body slumped back against the floor in defeat.
Tristan didn’t seem to give a shit, he pounded into me ruthlessly, his body slapping against mine. The pleasure pooled and pooled and pooled until finally, I was exploding with a cry, drenching us both. His moans blurred into the background, my mind focused on the boy I loved, rather than the one fucking me.
I didn’t snap back to reality until I felt Tristan tremble over me before spilling inside me, horror filling every crevice of my body.
“No,” I whimpered, tears filling my eyes.
Tristan smirked in response, like it made no difference to him that he could impregnate me. He rolled off of me moments later, sweeping a hand through his damp hair.
But I couldn’t move. All I could think about was Dominic, the guilt, Nia, and a potential child.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
DOMINIC
The only timeI left my room was when I needed to eat, engage in training, or for guard duty. My emotions were a jumbled mess and had been since I walked in on Tristan and Hazel. She couldn’t truly be stupid enough to think he’d ever care for her, right? He didn’t care about anything or anyone, and he’dnevercare for a woman. He hated women as much—if not more—than Mason did.
“Don’t stop,”she’d said. She begged her rapist to keep fucking her.
What the actual fuck?
I suppose it wasn’tthatout of the ordinary. Hazel had been through a lot in such a short period of time. She was ripped from her family, kidnapped, thrown into captivity, raped, and who knew what else? I might not have understood how she could find pleasure in being assaulted, but she wasn’t the first. Tristan made most of them feel good. However, I’d never heard anyone beg him to keep going.
A weight settled over my chest, pushing me down into the mattress. Hazel had always been a smart girl, but she was alsonaïve. Tristan would take advantage of that if she wasn’t careful. He did it with Nia, who was equally naïve. She believed Tristan cared for her. It wasn’t until Emerson came along a few months later that he started mistreating Nia. He intended to kill her, only to find out she was pregnant. So, he assaulted her throughout her pregnancy but was gentler with her as not to harm the growing fetus. As soon as she gave birth to their son, he took the baby from her, had me rape her, and then killed her less than a week later.
That was what he did. When Hazel arrived and he developed an interest in her, he killed Emerson over the smallest thing. When someone else piqued his interest, he’d turn on Hazel just like he always did, and she’d die, too.
The thought had my throat constricting. I had to get her out of here somehow—even if it killed me.
Adrian’s headbobbed up and down, the squelching sound of her mouth suctioning around Clay’s cock. He fisted her hair, his jaw thrumming with tension, but he didn’t release a sound. Clay was the kind of guy who didn’t want the girls to know how much he was enjoying them, so he kept silent.
Tristan sat beside me in one of the two chairs, a bored look crossing his features. Behind us were Nicholas, Mason, and Vincent. We’d been called here for a small meeting, but I had no idea why.
The girl continued to suck him off until his legs began to tremble, the only sign that he was enjoying what she was doing. After a few more pumps of her mouth, he was shoving her down on his cock and spilling down her throat with a ragged exhale.
At last, he cleared his throat. “You’re free to leave,” he told her coldly, reaching down and tugging up his jeans and boxers.
Adrian scrambled to her feet, her cheeks flushing pink with shame as she scurried for the door and let herself out.
