Chapter 201 Please Break Me
(Apollo & Adelaide)
She pushed her hips back, grinding her ass into his hips. Not thinking. Just needing.
Apollo chuckled, not in a friendly way, but with hunger. The hand around her throat tightened, pressing at her pulse point.
Her heartbeat jumped under his grip, frantic and exposed, and the knowledge of how easily he could still it only sharpened the sensation.
“Such an impatient little whore,” he murmured.
The word landed heavy and electric, leaving her feeling more exposed than her nakedness ever could.
Slowly, he withdrew. Just a few inches. Then he hit forward, sharp and fast, slamming back into her again.
The suddenness shattered what little composure she had left. Her gasp broke against the stone. His hand clamped over her hip, the grip at her throat tight and possessive. His wings flared outward in a silent, feral claim.
The rush of power was suffocating, both thrilling and terrifying at the same time.
“Apollo—”
“Say my name again,” he growled into her ear, hips driving forward. “Let the whole mountain hear who you burn for.”
Her body answered before her pride could object.
His pace quickened, but he stayed firm. Every thrust drew a scream from Adelaide, each one echoing off the stone like an offering she couldn’t take back. Her toes barely touched the floor. Apollo held her suspended, gripping her hip, holding her throat, and keeping her impaled on his cock.
The helplessness of it made her lightheaded, her body held together entirely by him.
The sigils on the walls brightened. The stone warmed the room around them. Her flame surged in answer to his, reckless and bright.
It felt like her magic was spilling out of her, unable to contain itself, answering him whether she wanted it to or not. Behind them, Apollo’s wings curled inward, slowly and instinctively, as if sheltering something precious.
The contrast struck her all at once: brutality wrapped in protection, violence wrapped in possession.
Apollo did not slow. He pistoned into her, again and again and again. Fast, hard, brutal.
Each impact drove the air from her lungs, each one shaking something loose inside her she wasn’t sure she could put back together.
His wings curled around them, folding inward like an eclipse swallowing the world. The leathery membrane brushed the stone, sealing them in a cocoon of heat and shadow. The rest of Hell disappeared behind that living wall of wings. The torches outside flickered, as if intimidated by the power between them.
Inside that shelter of wings, the air changed. Hotter. Denser. More alive. Adelaide felt it: the shift in him, the sharpening of his breath, the dangerous tremble running through every place his body touched hers.
“Touch it,” he ordered, voice roughened beyond recognition.
Her pulse stuttered hard. “No,” she whispered. “You said — you don’t like it when—”
His hand shot out, not harsh or cruel, but inevitable.
Apollo caught her wrist, fingers wrapping around her pulse, holding her in the most intimate form of restraint she had ever felt. His breath dragged raggedly against her neck, the tremors in his chest betraying something he wasn’t admitting out loud.
“You will touch it,” he said, quieter this time. “Now.”
Before she could answer, he guided her hand outward, into the dark curve of his wing. Her fingertips brushed the delicate inner membrane.
Apollo convulsed, unable to control it or hide it.
His hips jerked forward, body shuddering like someone had poured lightning into his spine. His wings flexed wide and then slammed tight around her again, trapping her in the heat of him.
He growled, a feral sound ripped out of him.
Adelaide gasped, feeling him grow harder, thicker inside her with painful suddenness as the reaction tore through him.
“Apollo?”
But he didn’t hear anything except the sound of his own breath breaking. His grip tightened on her wrist, holding her fingers to the trembling wing. The membrane under her touch wasn’t smooth anymore; it quivered, alive, like a creature of its own.
“Again,” he rasped, voice fraying. “Drag.”
She hesitated.
His wings twitched violently, his hips grinding forward with barely controlled hunger.
“Drag,” he repeated, both begging and commanding in the same breath.
Adelaide drew her fingers down the length of the wing. Slow. Unsure. Soft.
Apollo broke. His entire body seized in a full-body shudder from shoulders to knees, his wings spasming around her in a shockwave of instinct. His breath ripped out of him in a strangled snarl, his forehead dropping briefly to her shoulder as if the sensation had cut his strength away.
“Gods—” he choked, voice raw. “Adelaide…”
Her name sounded like something he’d been holding in his teeth for centuries. He forced himself upright again, but barely. His wings trembled uncontrollably, the edges dragging across her arms like heated silk.
She felt every tremor sharpen where he was inside her.
“Apollo… what is—”
“You don’t know…” he breathed, panting against her ear, “…what you’re doing to me.”
He guided her hand again, more desperate now, less controlled. Her fingertips grazed a sensitive ridge near the wing’s base.
Apollo snapped. A savage, broken moan tore out of him, not dominance or command, but something far more dangerous: vulnerability.
His wings clamped around her like a shield. His hips drove deeper with a helpless, involuntary thrust that made Adelaide cry out. The heat of his breath hit her neck in sharp bursts as if he were fighting not to lose his mind entirely.
“This,” he growled through clenched teeth, “should not make me feel this fucking weak.”
His hand pressed hers harder into the wing, voice shaking.
“But you touch me once, just once, and I’m coming apart like your body is a prayer I was built to answer.”
He panted, hips driving deeper. “But you— fuck—" He cut himself off, shuddering violently.
“Apollo,” she whispered, breathless, overwhelmed by the mix of fear and desire and awe coursing through them both. “Tell me.”
His answer came out fractured.
“You could break me.”
His wings trembled again. His grip tightened. And his body pressed into her with a hunger that felt like surrender disguised as strength.
His hips moved in desperate, jagged motions. No rhythm to the thrusting. Just need and desire, chasing that burning feeling between them both.
Adelaide’s body took every brutal forward motion as if she were born for it. Like it was her one purpose in life. And in that very moment, with Apollo’s thick, rock-hard cock, buried deep inside her, it felt like that truth was gospel.
His forehead pressed to the back of her shoulder, his voice a ragged whisper against her skin.
“And still,” he gasped, shaking, “I want your hands on my wings.”