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    Summary

    One minute, Ilya had Shane pinned against the wall, his hand wrapped around Shane's face, his mouth a brutal, punishing force. The next, Shane had Ilya backed into the back of the couch, his hand fisted in Ilya's hair, his hips grinding against Ilya's crotch in a mocking, provocative rhythm. It was a dance of violence and desire, a twisted, fucked-up tango that was as much about pain as it was about pleasure.

    But the anger, the rage, the burning need to win, was quickly being overshadowed by a more primal, more urgent need. They were both hard, their cocks straining against the confines of their jeans, a desperate, demanding pressure that was a constant, throbbing reminder of what they really wanted.

    They couldn't wait. They couldn't fucking wait.

    "Get these fucking clothes off."

    —

    Kinktober Day 3: Hate Sex

    Series
    Language:
    English
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