by Pam Godwin
They grappled in the narrow aisle, punching with elbows and knees, grinding and twisting for the top position. Slick with sweat and grunting in pain, they rolled over supplies and overturned jugs of water, destroying everything within reach.
Martin boiled from the inside out, burning to fight and fuck, ruin and devour, punish and possess. His mouth glanced off Ricky’s lips, trying to capture a kiss that turned into smacking teeth and lashing tongues.
“Say it again.” He latched a leg around Ricky’s thigh and flipped them, putting himself on top. “Say it, you little bitch.”
“I love you.” With a furious glint in his eyes, Ricky tore a hand through Martin’s hair, ripping it at the roots. The other shoved between their hips and fisted Martin’s erection through his jeans. “I need you. Fucking Christ, Martin. I need this cock inside me.”
An agonized, animalistic sound escaped Martin’s throat as he ground against that firm grip, working his hips into a frenzied rhythm.
“Take off my pants.” Ricky ravaged Martin’s mouth, biting and sucking and demolishing the last thread of Martin’s control. “Fuck me. Give it to me, goddammit.”
There was a reason he shouldn’t, but his mind emptied. Lust and primal instinct consumed his body. The drive to fuck moved his arms and hips as he wrenched Ricky onto his stomach and shoved Ricky’s flimsy cotton pants out of the way.
Ricky’s rock-hard glutes filled his hands. He wedged his fingers into the crevice, spreading muscle and flesh to expose the tight, dark hole within.
His dick throbbed with its own heartbeat, jerking against the restraint of his jeans. He stabbed a thumb into Ricky’s anus, twisting it as deep as it would go, digging past nerves and muscles that were bone-dry and begging to bleed.
Ricky gasped, and his entire body went taut, strung like a bow. “Fucking spit on it.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He yanked his thumb out and impaled Ricky’s ass with two dry fingers. Then he added a third and thrust.
A low, distressed groan strangled in Ricky’s throat, but he didn’t fight. Martin rammed harder, faster, stretching Ricky’s anal cavity with fiery friction and ruthlessness.
Ricky lifted his hips, flexing into the deep penetration as he wedged a hand beneath him and jacked himself off.
With each piercing stab of his fingers, Martin felt the scorching burn in his own rectum. He felt the hot panting breaths on his back and the river rocks grinding beneath his knees as he flailed beneath excruciating pain.
Memories flogged him, pounding his body and contorting the windowless prison cell into the thick woodland of the Texas wilderness.
He found himself lying on a riverbed, his face in ice-cold water. A huge hand forced his head into the stream as a stiff penis tore things inside him, making him bleed from his butt.
It was his first time camping. Two months after his dad died. Jeff lived in an RV and told him that night they needed to go to the river to catch fish.
He’d lied.
Martin lost his virginity with his face submerged underwater. Before he passed out, he was given air. When he screamed, he was dunked again.
There had been no lubrication or spit to lessen the brutality. Not that day nor the four-hundred-and-twenty-six days that followed.
But there was always blood. All of his underwear was stained with it. Dark brown reminders of the damage inside him.
He felt that damage now as he forced dry muscles to suck his thrusting fingers. Heavy groans penetrated his ears, so very different than soundless screams he’d kept trapped in his throat.
Blinking rapidly, he yanked his hand away and stared at it. No blood. No damage.
“If you want me to bleed, you’re going to have to try harder.” Ricky glared at him over his shoulder. “My ass is conditioned to take a pounding.”
Van Quiso had ensured that. When he’d fucked Martin and Ricky, he taught them how to take it without tensing. Van knew what he was doing. He was merciless and depraved, but when it came to sex, he was a master. He knew how to thrust without tearing skin, how to whip without leaving a scar, and how to ride that delicate line between pleasure and pain.
Martin had been trained by Van, but he didn’t have Van’s sophistication. His fourteen-year-old mind had been molded by a savage monster, and that was what he became whenever he tried to have sex.
His cock lay swollen and trapped at an uncomfortable angle in his jeans. He only needed to release it, and in the next breath, he could be deep inside Ricky.
He would lose his mind, his inhibitions. He would go fucking crazy, rutting and humping and undulating his hips until he was spent. Like a feral dog.
Just like Jeff.
He pushed to his feet and stumbled to the sink to wash his hands and clear his thoughts.
“So that’s it?” Ricky stood and yanked up his pants. “I know you want this. The proof is straining your zipper. Why don’t you at least try?”
“I did try, and I made myself sick.” He kept his tone tempered as everything inside him buzzed and throbbed for relief.
Ricky’s expression fell, and his gaze thickened with disappointment. “I’m going to take a cold shower.” He pointed at the bulge in Martin’s jeans. “Take care of that before I get back.”
He grabbed a towel and soap and didn’t give Martin a backward glance before charging into the hall.
The door closed with a resentful smack, and an iron band wrapped around Martin’s chest, squeezing tight.
Ricky shouldn’t be out there alone, but it was for the best. They hadn’t been attacked since that day in the stairwell, and Martin posed more of a danger to him than anyone else.
He glared down at his raging hard-on and unzipped his pants. This was the first time he’d been alone in almost two months, and he wouldn’t waste it.
Releasing his cock was a relief in and of itself. He fisted a hand around it and flattened his other on the wall in front of him. Then he stroked. Long hard pulls from base to tip.
Pre-come lubed his grip as he flexed his ass and thrust aggressively. The sounds of smacking flesh distracted him. They were lonely sounds, echoing inside a lonely man.
He adjusted his feet, making his stance sturdier and leaning into each pump. If Tula were here, he would shove her to her knees and make her swallow his entire length. He would hit her throat, trigger her gag reflex, and fuck her face until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream—
The door creaked open. Fuck, in his lust-drunk haze, he’d forgotten to lock it.
“Sorry.” Tula stood in the doorway, her gaze glued to the angry, swollen erection that pulsed in his fist. “I—I can leave?”
Her fingers clenched briefly at her sides, and she parted her lips. Her nipples beaded beneath her shirt. Denim hugged her hips and legs, highlighting the curves he longed to mark with his teeth.
His hand started moving on its own, rubbing hard flesh and mimicking the strokes he ached to give her. She was right here, breathing heavily and silently asking with those huge, guileless eyes.
“Come here,” he heard himself rasp.
She stepped in and closed the door. Her hand lingered on the handle, trembling as she locked it. “Where’s Ricky?”
“Shower.”
A glance around at the scattered supplies on the floor raised her eyebrows. She didn’t know what she’d walked into, but she was about to find out.
Her next two steps put her within arm’s reach.
He grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed her to her knees. “Suck me.”
“Martin—”
He rammed himself into the hot haven of her throat, making her gag on the first drive of his hips. As he pulled back, she yelped, catching him with her teeth.
Tightening his fist in her hair, he angled her head where he needed her and fucked her mouth with vigor. In and out, hard and harder, he slammed into the back of her wet throat, pistoning his hips, grinding against her face, and chasing his release.
Until he looked down and saw her glis
tening gaze.
Tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. Her hand clutched his thigh, her fingernails buried in the skin. He didn’t register the pain until now, but that wasn’t what snapped him out of his madness.
Her other hand was between her legs, massaging the denim seam against her clit.
She was turned on. By him.
He shoved into her throat, over and over, savoring the sounds of her choking cries. “You like that shit?”
Her head nodded, and the hand on her pussy moved faster.
“Such a dirty slut.” He grunted at the sensation of her tongue, the tight ring of her lips, and the stunning look in her hungry eyes. “Feels so good. Fucking love your mouth.”
If her mouth felt this sinful, he couldn’t imagine what her pussy would do to him.
He pulled out and hauled her to her feet. “Turn around and hug the wall. I won’t be gentle.”
“Martin, wait—”
“How badly do you want my dick?”
“I do. Very much. But can we lie on the bed? I want to see your eyes.” She placed a warm hand on his cheek. “I want to help you.”
“Here’s how you help me.” Anger spiked through his blood. “Put your fucking face against the wall and lift your ass in the air.”
He didn’t wait for her to obey. With a grip on her inked arm, he flung her into position.
“I knew if you did this, if you finally took this step, it would be painful.” She pressed her palms against the wall and exhaled. “So I’m not going to say no.”
“In a few seconds, you won’t be able to make an intelligible sound.” He crowded in against her back, released her zipper, and shoved down her jeans and panties.
A tremor skated through her, shaking her luscious body against his.
With an arm holding her to the wall, he glided his other hand over her fine ass. As he reached through the apex of her legs, he grabbed her soaked pussy from behind.
“So fucking wet for me.” He pushed three fingers into her tight clasp, making her lift on her toes.
Her breathing quickened, fueling his thrusts. As he fingered her cunt, he stretched his thumb back and impaled it into her asshole.
She gulped, and her buttocks tensed spasmodically.
“Have you ever been fucked here?” He pushed his thumb harder inside her anus while holding his fingers in her pussy.
She cried out. “Don’t do this. You’re not him, Martin.”
“You don’t know who I am. Answer the question.”
“Yes, I’ve had anal sex.”
“Because you’re a filthy cock-hungry whore.”
“Yeah, I’m a whore.” She rammed an elbow into his ribs. “Why don’t you fuck me bareback and catch a disease? Or you can believe the truth. I had a lover who enjoyed it.”
“Is that what you were doing with Hector this morning? Letting him enjoy your tight little asshole?”
“What?” She gasped, straightening her spine. “No! Hector and I aren’t like that!”
“I need names and locations of all the high-ranking officers in his human trafficking operation.” He removed his hand from her and freed his cock.
“Why are you—?
“Stop bullshitting me, Tula. I want the truth.”
“He’s not in that business. He says it’s not profitable and—” She went still, filling the silence with the sounds of her labored breaths. “Are you undercover? With the military?”
“Hardly.” He slid his length between her legs from behind, rubbing the head along her slick folds.
An inferno rose beneath his skin, his reaction to her body instantaneous. Sweating, panting, teasing himself as much as he teased her, he needed her like he needed air.
She shuddered as he pressed the tip against her entrance, barely penetrating. Then he pulled back to give her back hole the same torture. She pushed against him, grinding and tilting up her ass, begging for it. Fuck if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
Her legs opened for more, and he indulged himself in her perfections, sliding through her decadent arousal as she melted around him, dripping down his length. He dipped in and out of her folds, stroking but not breaching, desperate for her, and denying them both.
If he fucked her, he would ruin her with his filth.
He needed to push her away and keep her at the same time.
“Ricky lets you ride his cock for free, but you have to pay for mine.” He gripped his shaft and stirred the crown around the opening of her drenched pussy. “I want names and locations. Give me that, and I’ll give you the dick.”
He stepped back and stuffed himself away, his muscles shaking with the force of his desire.
“What?” Her ragged gasp cut through his chest. She yanked up her jeans and turned around, her eyes glassy with unshed water. “You’re using me? You got close to me because you wanted me to leak information to you?”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing? Crawling in bed with us every night and running to Hector in the morning to tell him our secrets?”
“No.” She shook her head, knocking a river of tears free. “I don’t even know your secrets!”
“Because we know better than to tell you anything.”
Her chin trembled, and she looked away, trying to suck down a choking inhale.
Stabbing pain hit his gut and burned through his throat.
“You’re hurting me, Martin. Fucking breaking me. Right here.” She clamped a hand over her heart. “Not just because you’re destroying us. But because you’re destroying yourself.”
She turned to the door, and as she opened it, Ricky walked in.
He looked at her face and shot a murderous glare at Martin. “What did you do?”
She breezed by him.
“Tula, wait!” Ricky grabbed her arm. “Whatever this is, I’ll fix it.”
“You want to fix this?” She jerked free. “Fix him! I’m done.”
As her footsteps faded down the hall, Ricky stabbed a hand through his wet hair and sneered at Martin. “What the fuck have you done?”
“I warned you.” His heart felt cold and dead in his chest. “You don’t want my brand of hurt.”
Martin slumped onto the mattress, listening to the sound of Ricky’s footsteps chase Tula down the hall. His stomach hardened as he waited for the sound to return, knowing it would.
One minute.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
There it was.
Ricky stormed back into the cell and slammed the door, locking it. “She told me what happened and refuses to see you. As much as I want to drag her back here like a caveman, I think she’s been abused enough for one day.”
“I fucked up.”
“Yeah, you’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Ricky removed his shirt and kicked off his shoes. “Give me a rundown of your sexual history.”
Now there was a subject that should be locked in a vault and dropped in the deepest ocean. He held up his middle finger.
“Listen, motherfucker.” Ricky bent over him, eyes flaring. “You’re going to lose every person you ever cared about. If that matters to you, you’ll figure out a way to make that mean mouth form the words yes or no to every question I ask.”
Fuck. This was happening, whether he wanted it to or not.
Ricky straightened and shoved off his pants, leaving the boxers on. “Have you ever had consensual sex?”
“Yes.”
“With a woman?”
“Yes.” He’d had a handful of one-night stands in the few years between Jeff and Van. None of them were memorable.
“Have you had consensual sex with a man?”
There it was. Sharp and malignant, the pain cleaved through his airway and smothered his senses. “No.”
“Then you’ve only ever been the bottom? Forced to take it?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve never fucked a man in the ass?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Ricky swiped a hand down
his face and sat beside him. “Have you had anal sex with a woman?”
“Yes.”
“The sex you’ve had willingly… Was it always rough and angry?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hurt them?”
“No. I was just a teenager.” Young and horny. Broken beyond recognition but not as complicated as he was now. Every year he put between Jeff and him added another layer of anger, resentment, and depravity. “If you think I won’t hurt her—”
“You already hurt her.” Ricky shifted to face him. “You hurt her with words. With rejection. She feels betrayed and manipulated.” Ricky’s dark eyes connected with his, solidifying their bond instead of cutting it off. “I can’t fix this thing that happened to you. I can’t tell you how to cope with it. But I can get you past this one obstacle, which is preventing the three of us from moving forward together.”
“If you’re talking about sex—”
“Shut up and pay attention.” He stood and pushed the last of his clothing to his feet.
His cock hung semi-hard between muscular thighs, thick and heavy and growing by the second.
“This is the last time I will offer myself to you.” Ricky knelt at his feet, speeding up his pulse. “We’ll do it slow and easy, or not at all.”
A swallow stuck in the back of his throat. “I don’t know how.”
“I know, and I’ve been part of the problem.” Ricky sat back on his heels. “I always tell you to hurt me, fuck me hard, and make me bleed.” He shook his head. “The thing is I’ve had every kind of sex imaginable. Soft, rough, sweet, wild… I’ve experienced the gamut, and I know what I like. But you haven’t. You’ve never had sensual, affectionate, tender sex.”
A quiver of grief skittered along Martin’s jaw and burned the backs of his eyes. He fisted his hand in the bedding, fighting the longing that swelled inside him.
“Let me give you that.” Ricky lowered his head and placed a kiss on Martin’s denim-clad thigh.
He tried to imagine what Ricky was offering, but he couldn’t picture it. He didn’t know what it looked like or how he would handle the intimacy. But he wanted to know. Every nerve ending in his body pulled toward the idea.
“Tell me you’ll try.” Ricky rose on his knees and gave him an expectant look.