Page 61 of Cursed
Landon pounds into me relentlessly, my back pressed against the cold mirror surface. My struggles weaken with each powerful thrust, my body betraying me as pleasure builds where our bodies connect.
“Stop,” I gasp, but the word lacks conviction now. My nails dig into his shoulders, but I’m no longer pushing him away—I’m holding on.
His rhythm doesn’t falter as he leans down, capturing my mouth in a bruising kiss. I bite his lip, a last show of defiance, but when his tongue invades my mouth, I surrender to it, meeting him with equal hunger.
“Everystopfrom your lips makes your pussy clench tighter around my cock.”
My protests fade to whimpers as he shifts angles, hitting a spot deep inside me that makes my vision blur.
“Landon,” I moan, no longer able to maintain the pretense of unwillingness. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper.
My back arches as waves of pleasure crash through me. The room watches as I transform under his touch, my resistance melting. My moans echo through the room, contradicting the protests I made earlier, broadcasting my submission to all present.
“Look at you,” Landon commands, gripping my jaw and forcing me to meet his gaze. “I could get drunk on the sounds you make when I’m inside you.”
His thrusts grow harder, more demanding, and I meet each one, my body completely yielding to his possession. The pleasure builds higher, impossibly intense, until I’m clutching at him desperately.
“Please,” I beg.
Sweat gleams on his inked chest as he moves above me, making him look otherworldly. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise as he drives into me with punishing force.
“I’m going to make you come so hard you see stars,” he growls.
His relentless pace drives me higher, each brutal thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through me.
“That’s it,” Landon growls, his fingers digging into my thighs as he spreads me wider. “Your pussy feels like heaven—hot, wet, and made for me.”
My walls clench around him as he hits that perfect spot inside me over and over. The pressure builds impossibly, my breath coming in desperate gasps. I’m dimly aware of eyes watching us, but nothing matters except the point where our bodies join.
“Come for me.”
“I can’t—” I whimper, trembling on the edge of devastation.
“You can and you will,” he commands, one hand moving to circle my throat possessively. “Come for me now.”
My body obeys, as if his words alone can command me. The orgasm crashes through me with shocking intensity. My back arches off the mirror as I clench around him, wave after wave of pleasure making me cry out his name. My nails rake down his back as I shudder beneath him, completely lost to sensation.
Landon’s rhythm falters as my body squeezes him. “Fuck,” he groans, his movements becoming erratic. With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside me, his cock pulsing as he fills me with his release.
A fleeting thought crosses my mind—thank God they required birth control as part of accepting the invitation to the Hunt. The clinical blood tests and mandatory shots seemed invasive at the time, but now I understand the necessity. I’m so full of his cum, it would be a miracle if I wasn’t pregnant by the end of this without the protections.
Before I can catch my breath, Landon pulls down his mask, and his mouth is at my neck, his teeth scraping sensitive skin. He bites down hard enough to make me gasp, sucking the tender flesh between his lips. The sharp pain mingled with pleasure makes me moan again as he marks me visibly for everyone to see.
“Mine,” he murmurs against the bruise forming on my neck, his tongue soothing the spot he just claimed.
The word reverberates through me, settling deep in my bones. Mine. His. Possessed. Owned.
And for once, I don’t recoil at the idea.
Just days ago, the concept of belonging to someone would have sent me running. I’ve spent years protecting my independence after what happened to me. I convinced myself I needed no one—that vulnerability was weakness, that surrender meant defeat.
With his weight crushing me into the mirrored dais, his mark pounding at my neck, a fracture opens inside me. The truth surges upward like a bubble I can no longer submerge.
I want him—not for pleasure, not for the games, but for the claim. For the possession. For the ruin of being his.
26
LANDON
