"Stop! Let me go!" Alexander shrieked, though the sound was muffled by Matthew’s relentless mouth.
Matthew pulled back just an inch, their lips still brushing, a thin string of saliva connecting them.
"You've spent your whole life taking whatever you wanted, Alexander. Now you get to find out what it feels like to be the thing that is taken."
Matthew’s free hand descended, ripping the silk shirt open.
Buttons flew, pinging off the concrete walls like tiny bullets.
He exposed Alexander’s pale, smooth chest, the skin glistening with a fine sheen of cold sweat.
Matthew leaned in, burying his face in the crook of Alexander’s neck, inhaling deeply.
He smelled the citrus, the fear, and the raw, pheromonal scent of a man who was losing control.
Matthew bit down hard on the junction of Alexander’s shoulder and neck.
Alexander let out a sharp, broken cry, his body arching.
The pain was sudden and searing, but beneath it, a traitorous spark of heat ignited in his gut.
He had always been a creature of excess, of intensity, and the sheer, violent certainty of Matthew’s obsession was an intoxicant.
Matthew’s hand slid down, gripping the waistband of Alexander’s designer trousers and ripping them down with a single, violent jerk.
He didn't bother with finesse.
He wanted the skin.
He wanted the vulnerability.
Alexander was trembling now, his breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches.