Page 96 of Hollow

He pulls at my neck until our mouths break apart and I can barely breathe, and in his eyes, I see a storm of lust that terrifies me.

“You couldn’t even wait for me,” he rasps. “You had to get someone else’s cock to satisfy that greedy hole of yours.” He brings me forward again by the neck, the pressure getting tighter, and I gasp, our eyes inches away from each other. “I’ll fuck them out of you. You belong to me, only me. And tonight, I’m claiming you as mine.”

My stomach twists, and I’m panting under his grip.

“You like that, don’t you?” he growls. “Little slut.”

And then he pushes me onto the bed. Before I can right myself, he’s lifting me by the neck and flipping me around so that my knees are on the bed and I’m pressed with my breasts against the wall.

“Put your hands up on the wall,” he warns, his voice gruff and hard. “Don’t move.”

With shaking arms, I do as he says, my heart pounding in my chest and head. I lay my palms flat on the wall, and I hear him behind me, taking off his clothes. I could stop this. I could at least try. But I don’t want to. I want him to give himself to me in all his fury. I might belong to Crane, but I still want Brom to belong to me.

“Fuck,” I hear him say through a gasp. “You’re going to feel this. You’re going to feel me so deep that you’ll forget you’ve been fucked before. You’ll never be rid of me.”

Behind me, the bed sinks as he kneels on it, and I feel his wild energy at my back. It’s hot and immense and seems to grow more powerful by the second, and I feel like I’m about to lose my mind.

I jump, startled, as his hands find the bottom of my nightgown and tug it up around my waist. Then he pulls down my drawers, sliding them over my feet, discarded on the floor somewhere.

“How perfect you are, daffodil,” he rasps, the lust making his voice raw as I feel his eyes on my bare skin. “You’re so wet. You’re dripping for me.”

I gasp as a hand slides up between my thighs and rubs over where I’m soaked and swollen, and I can’t help but let out a deep moan that rattles my lungs.

“All of this is mine,” he rumbles. “All of this for me. Did Crane make you gush like this?”

I know better than to answer that question, but then he shoves his fingers inside me and with his other hand makes a fist in my hair, yanking my head back. I cry out, and his mouth is at my ear, his breath hot. “Answer the fucking question. Did your professor make you this wet? Did he fuck you with his fingers too? Did you squeeze them like a vise?”

“Yes,” I manage to say.

“Did you like it?” he says, licking up my earlobe, making me shiver. His fist in my hair tightens painfully, his fingers fucking me.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He pauses, pulling back slightly.

“What a little whore you are,” he says.

Then he spits on the back of my exposed neck, and I flinch. The spit slowly rolls down my spine and under the back of my nightgown, and I feel his eyes burning on me.

“But you’re my whore,” he adds as he removes his fingers, and I barely have time to take in a breath before I feel his hips on my ass, the hard heat of his cock at my entrance, and then he’s shoving up inside me with one sharp thrust.

“Oh God!” I cry out, my palms flattening.

“I’m not your god.” Brom seethes, his lips at my neck, biting, licking as his hips press me into the wall, his cock rammed inside me as far as it will go. I feel like I’m being torn in two, and I think I might faint, the world going fuzzy in a mix of pleasure and pain.

“I’m not your god,” he says again. “I’m your devil.”

He pulls out slowly, and I can feel his length drag over every nerve inside me before he shoves back inside me, to the hilt. His chest is pressed against my back, sweat dripping down onto my nightgown, the heat of him like an inferno.

He might be the devil, and so this might be Hell.

But why does Hell feel so good?

Because you’re a witch, I remind myself. A heathen with no god except sex.

“Taste yourself,” Brom says, letting go of my hair and reaching over my face, sliding his fingers into my mouth. “Suck them.”

I obey him just as I’ve obeyed Crane. I suck the taste of me from his fingers as he continues to pump into me from behind. He keeps his fingers in my mouth, hooking them there like I’m a horse he’s keeping in place, and I can’t help but think of Crane in the stable, how he wanted to ride me like one. No wonder these two men found each other.