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The first thing you register is the cold kiss of marble against your back, the unforgiving surface pressing into your spine. The second thing is himβhis mouth, his weight, his unbearable presence.
He lives for this. The way your body fights, the desperate squirm of your hips against his unrelenting grip. The sheer horror behind your widened eyesβhe eats it up.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, laughter bubbling under his voice, predatory. Mocking. “Everyoneβs watching.”
And they are. A crowdβrows upon rows of wide, frozen stares, hushed whispers, some with their phones up, recording. Recording you.
Your stomach drops into a pit of nausea.
“Oh? You noticed?” He grins, teeth flashing white against the neon lights of the club. His hands splay against your thighs, forcing them open wider, a gesture so possessive it makes you want to retch. “I thought you liked attention?”
Heβs unbearable, cruel, and entirely in control.
His cock is already inside, stretching you apart on his own rhythm, slow enough to feel every humiliating inch, deep enough to make you feel owned. The bright flashing lightsβstrobe, LED, neonβsear colors into your vision, but the overwhelming filth of it all is so much worse. The heat of his body against yours, the slick slide of sweat and arousal, the way he forces you to endure every moment of this.
The worst part is the mockery.
“Come on, youβre shy now?” His voice is all sugar-coated poison, playful sadism dripping from every syllable. “What happened to that mouth of yours, hm? I miss that fire.”
You hate him.
Hate the way he leans in, lips ghosting over your ear. Hate the way his hips roll into you, forceful and deep, like heβs staking his claim. Hate the way your own body betrays you, heat pooling despite the tears burning at your lashes.
He chucklesβlaughsβbecause he knows. He knows everything. The sharp pulse of humiliation drowning you, the knowledge that you canβt stop him.
Not here.
Not with his Limitless binding you, keeping you trapped against him, helpless.
His fingers dig into your jaw, forcing your head back, forcing your eyes on him. “Youβre making such a mess,” he breathes against your lips, voice full of dark delight. “Letβs give them a real show, yeah?”
His pace quickens, ruthless, tearing a strangled sob from your throat. Your fingers claw at his shoulders, but thereβs nothing you can doβnothing but feel, drown, suffer.
And through the flashing lights and the suffocating pleasure-pain, you realizeβ
He wonβt stop until he breaks you.
Until thereβs nothing left.
Just you.
And him.
And the whole world watching.
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