Chapter 17: I'm the Toy Who Bit Back
Chapter 17: I'm the Toy Who Bit Back
Elio's POV
⚠️ EXTREMELY explicit sex |
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He tried to silence me with a kiss.
I bit him instead.
Hard. Deep enough to draw blood from his lip.
His mouth jerked away, stunned for half a second — then a dangerous grin spread across it, blood pooling at the corner.
"You really want to test me tonight, huh?"
I didn't flinch. I didn't apologize.
I leaned in and licked the blood from his lip like it was wine.
"You're not the only predator in this room," I whispered.
He didn't laugh. He shoved me backward so hard I hit the mirrored wall behind me, my spine echoing against the glass.
His hand wrapped tight around my throat.
"Say it again," he hissed.
"What?" I asked, eyes wide with mock innocence.
"That you're not scared."
"I'm not."
He pressed harder. Just enough to make my vision blur at the edges. Then loosened again, teasing me with oxygen.
"You forget who made you this bold."
"I forget nothing," I spat. "But don't pretend you don't like it when I bite back."
Something wild snapped loose in his eyes.
He crushed his mouth to mine again, bloody and brutal, fingers tightening at my throat, until I moaned straight into his mouth. Then he tore my shirt open and spun me toward the bed.
"On your back. Arms up."
I obeyed without hesitation. He grabbed a belt from the floor and used it to bind my wrists to the iron headboard — rough, tight. I could already feel the burn in my skin.
"You wanted war?" he said, unbuttoning his shirt one-handed. "You'll get it."
He dropped the shirt. I caught the glimpse of old scars, the gun tucked in his back waistband, and the bruises I'd left on his collarbone from the last time I'd begged for more.
But this wasn't going to be begging.
This was going to be battle.
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He stood at the foot of the bed and stared at me — completely clothed while I was naked, arms stretched wide like a sacrifice.
"You want control," he said. "But you forget whose name is carved into your soul."
He grabbed my thighs and forced them apart.
"You're not a man tonight, Elio. You're mine."
Then he spit in his hand, stroked his cock just once, and shoved inside me in a single, brutal thrust.
I screamed.
He didn't wait.
He didn't give me time to adjust.
He started pounding into me, each stroke deeper than the last, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.
And God help me, I loved it.
"Luca—f-fuck—"
"I told you," he growled, leaning down over me, "you don't get to speak unless I say."
I arched off the bed. The stretch burned, the force of his thrusts rocked the frame, but I didn't want him to stop.
Not even close.
"I could break you," he whispered. "I could leave you ruined."
"Do it," I breathed.
He laughed darkly.
He reached up and grabbed the belt, pulling my arms tighter.
"You want to be my toy?" he snarled. "Then I'll use you like one."
And he did.
---
He fucked me mercilessly — hard and fast, driving into me over and over until I was shaking, begging without words, my cock untouched and leaking against my stomach.
He bit my shoulder. My throat. My chest.
He whispered filth in my ear, telling me I was nothing but a thing for him to use, to mark, to keep.
"You thought you could fight me?" he snapped. "This is your rebellion?"
I choked out a gasp as he reached between my legs and gripped my cock at last — only to slap it once.
I cried out, the sting sharp and perfect.
"You love it," he hissed.
"I hate you," I groaned.
"No, you don't," he said, shifting to pin my legs over his shoulders, angle hitting deeper now. "You love being broken by the man who put you back together."
I whimpered. "Luca—"
"I want to see tears."
"You'll get them."
He leaned down and kissed me — and that broke me more than the sex.
It was filthy and possessive and tender beneath all the rage.
He let go of my cock and pressed his palm flat on my stomach, holding me down as he pounded faster.
The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room.
"You fight me," he gasped, sweat dripping down his chest, "but you'll always bend for me."
I was shaking. Whimpering.
So fucking close.
"Please," I rasped.
"What do you want?"
"You—inside me—forever—"
He growled, deep and guttural, and thrust hard once, twice—then came with a violent groan, burying himself to the hilt.
He collapsed over me, breathing ragged.
I wasn't done.
I looked at him through wet lashes.
"Untie me."
He did.
I flipped him over, straddled him, and grabbed the belt he just used.
"Now it's my turn," I said.
He raised a brow, amused. "Oh? Are you finally claiming me?"
"I've always claimed you. You just didn't notice until I drew blood."
I tied his wrists.
Not as tight.
But enough.
Then I rode him.
Slow.
Deep.
He was oversensitive, twitching, groaning, the earlier dominance slipping into something submissive.
"Who's the toy now?" I whispered.
"You still are," he panted. "Just the kind that bites back."
I leaned down and kissed the spot I bit earlier. "
You love that I fight you."
"I'd kill anyone else for it."
"You'd kill for me anyway."
"Yes."
I grinded harder, chasing my high.
And when I came, I screamed his name like a weapon.
Like a brand.
Like a promise.
---
He untied himself after and pulled me into his chest.
No words.
Just breathing.
I pressed a kiss to his jaw.
"You're not the only one with claws," I murmured.
He smiled, eyes closed.
"You never were my toy," he said. "You're my equal."
Then he added—
"But you'll still wear the collar."
And I would.
Gladly.
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