Chapter 24

The world narrowed to the brutal, rhythmic slam of Carlos’s hips against mine. Each thrust was a punctuation mark of ownership, a deep, claiming possession that stole the air from my lungs. The initial sear of pain had melted into a low, throbbing ache, a background hum to the overwhelming sensation of being so utterly filled. My own traitorous cock, hard and leaking, rubbed against the cold steel of the table with every one of Carlos’s movements.

I was moaning, pathetic, broken sounds I didn’t recognize. My eyes were locked with Edward’s through the glass. His face was a contorted mask of rage and agony, his body straining against the ropes that held him. He was screaming, I realized, his mouth a wide, silent ‘O’ of fury, the sound swallowed by the thick pane separating us. His pain was a tangible thing, a second violation, and a sick, shameful part of me was electrified by it.

Carlos’s pace was relentless, punishing. He leaned over me, his chest plastered to my sweat-slicked back, his breath hot and ragged in my ear. “Look at him,” he grunted, his voice thick with exertion and malice. “Look at your daddy watch me wreck his precious boy.”

He pistoned into me, a particularly deep, corkscrewing thrust that made me cry out, my toes curling. “He thought he could keep you. Stupid old man.”

I felt the telltale tightening in his rhythm, the sharp, erratic jerks of his hips. His fingers dug into the flesh of my hips like talons. With a guttural, choked roar, he buried himself to the hilt and came, his body shuddering violently against mine. The hot pulse of his release inside the condom was a final, degrading claim.

He stayed there for a long moment, panting, his weight heavy on me. Then, with a wet, slick sound, he pulled out. The sudden emptiness was a shock, a hollow ache.

He patted my ass, a condescending smack. “All yours, Miller. He’s warmed up for you.”

Miller’s hands, which had been a constant, immovable pressure on my shoulders, released me. I heard the rustle of clothing and the tear of another foil packet. Fear, cold and sharp, lanced through the haze of forced pleasure. Miller was bigger, his presence more brutish.