Page 115 of Ricochet

His low groan fills my ears as his crown slips past my rim and he slowly sinks deep, fully. There’s a slight burn as my hole stretches around him, one that’s equal amounts pain and pleasure. A rough breath escapes my lips as I rest my temple against the wall, eyes fluttering as I float in pure bliss.

He doesn’t move for several seconds, his chest shuddering at my back and his forehead pressed to the back of my head.

“I love to kill,” he says, his lips brushing the clammy skin at the nape of my neck. “I love to killfor you. But nothing in this world will ever compare to the feeling of being inside you.”

I feel the same about watching him kill. I love it.

But I love this more.

“You were right to stop me.” Inch by inch, he pulls back until only the head of his cock is inside me. “If I have to choose between a kill and keeping you, it’ll always be you.”

He punctuates his point by slamming into me so hard that it lifts me onto my toes. My mouth opens on a silent cry that gets lost somewhere on the way up. Taking his fingers out of my mouth, he wraps them around my throat, squeezing.

The ache of the stretch slowly dissolves into shockwaves of pleasure every time his dick rubs over that spot inside me that’s only ever made me light up like this for him. My body has neveronce responded to someone like it does to him, and I know it never will. I’ve never felt so full, so complete, in all my life.

I never want to lose this.

“Fuck,” I moan. “Gonna come soon.”

“Not before I say you can.”

Reaching around with his other hand, he grabs my balls and gives them a not-so-gentle tug, making me yelp. It dissolves into a whine as he grips the base of my cock tight.

He continues fucking into me, relentless and ruthless, and leans forward until his face is in my line of sight. His intense gaze is locked on my forearm. Specifically, on the bloody cut I gave myself with his knife. I can practically see the crimson of it reflected in his dark eyes.

“You’re never allowed to do this to yourself again,” he growls.

Then he leans over further and sweeps his tongue over the length of my forearm, licking up the wet blood that’s still there.

“Oh, fuck,” I whimper, following it with a long, low moan as my cock throbs in his hand. “Stone, please. Wanna come.”

“Tell me first,” he says, turning his face to mine, a drop of blood on his lips. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. Only yours. Forever yours.”

“What else is mine?” he asks, pounding into me until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.

“My ass.”

He strokes my dick with a rough fist. “And?”

“My cock.”

“What else, Callum? What else belongs only to me?”

I force my eyes open to meet his gaze. Even though his are still dark, pupils wide, I can see the forests in them again.

“My heart.”

Emotion swirls within the fog of his eyes. “And mine belongs to you.”

He crushes my mouth with his, and I lick his lips to taste the blood. His mouth then moves down, kissing and nipping at my jaw, passing his hand that’s still around my throat. I feel his warm breath against the crook of my neck, on the opposite side from where he bit me earlier. His teeth bite down, even harder this time. He thrusts into me two more times before his hips still. The sensation of him filling me, claiming me and marking me, and his hand still stroking my cock has my orgasm following right after his. My vision goes white, my head fuzzy.

His body slumps against mine while we catch our breath.

When his softening cock slips out and he turns me around, I lean my back against the wall. Facing him now, I see a difference in him.

The beast has retreated.