Read Boy (The Training House #2) for Free Online Page B

into the ground. Tell me you want me. Or fuck it—don’t. It’s gonna happen either way.”
    “Oh, God yes,” she says, making me smile. Or maybe it’s more a baring of teeth as I flip her legs up onto my shoulders, and without another moments’ hesitation, I thrust into her tight, wet cunt.
    “Ah!”
    Her green eyes go wide, shock and desire there, and something else that makes my own legs go weak. And she feels like fucking heaven inside—even the poet in me can’t begin to describe it, not with the words it requires. Velvet and clasping. Like my cock is being choked in satin. When I sling my hips back, then sink into her again, her hands go to my shoulders, her nails digging into my flesh, and already a small yell forms in her long, lovely throat. It begins as a sort of mewling, kitten-like, then turns into a growl, and I know she is truly one of us . Animal. Primal. Then her nails rake my shoulders as I really begin to fuck her in long, punishing strokes, then shorter, sharper jabs. She starts to come and I clamp a hand over her mouth. Her eyes go glassy as she comes, her lungs starved for air. I know exactly how being choked out makes climaxing immeasurably more intense. I love watching it happen to her.
    She’s still coming when I flip her over, putting her on hands and knees, then pushing down hard on her back until she’s on elbows and knees, and I thrust into her sweet little cunt once more. I don’t even know how I’ve held it back, except that I need to do things to her… I need to fuck her and mark her and claim her, God damn it.
    Leaning in, I sink my teeth into the back of her neck and hang on as I plunge into her, over and over, harder and harder, and she’s sliding in the dirt, coughing at the dust, but I don’t care, except that I do, because it’s fucking hot as hell. I taste her blood under my tongue, and slide my mouth around to the side of her neck, whispering “Give it to me. Give me your flesh.” And she does, and I bite harder, knowing she will wear my bruises for weeks.
    She’s gasping, sobbing as I fuck her as hard as I can, shoving my cock deep, then deeper, my balls slapping her swollen mound. Then she’s coming again and I reach around to pinch her clit, making her scream in pain, in pleasure. Finally, I let loose, coming into her hot little body. Into her hot little cunt. Nothing has ever felt so damn good to me. Better and better, my orgasm going on forever as my come dumps into her. Fucking hell, but it’s good—so good I can hardly take it, the spasms like whips of fire snapping deep in my gut, in my balls as they draw up tight.
    When it’s over my legs go out from under me and I collapse on top of her, both of us covered in sweat and dirt and sticky with come.
    We’re both panting. I’m filled with a bursting joy at my victory. At the intensity of being in her body. At being the one to take her down, to command her. And I’m fucking tired of being the slave, and this shit is going to have to be over soon. But for now, my dick is still buried inside her, my body humming with one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had, so I really can’t complain. Well, except that it’s me. It’s more out of habit than anything. Not one of my more charming qualities, but I feel too damn good to care. And my mind is already churning with what will happen next. If they separate us, this slave shit will be over, contract or not, because I’m not fucking standing for it.
    Faceless handlers arrive, and I’m only vaguely aware of the wrestling and fucking and flying dirt going on around us. The only thing I can focus on is Aimée. Two women have her, and it pleases me that they have to steady her, that she looks dazed and glassy-eyed. My teeth marks all over her neck please me even more.
    We’re taken back to the enormous shower stall in the slave barn, along with a handful of other slaves. The handlers run the warm water, clean us up, tend to our wounds while we stand, quiet and worn