Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 464: Break Me

The sun filtered through the canopy like it didn’t know this wasn’t paradise. The massive leaves from prehistoric plants providing us with enough privacy that I didn’t have to worry about anyone intruding.

The sound of birds echoed from somewhere in the jungle, but it sounded distant—muted. The only thing that felt real was the heat of Tank’s body pressed against mine, the way his breath came in short, tight exhales near my temple, and the low growl vibrating from his chest as his hands curled around my waist.

Spinning me around, he slipped away from the moat and into the jungle. My mug clattered to the mossy ground, spilling sweetened coffee into the dirt as I was kidnapped away, but I didn’t even care.

"And just what do you have planned for me?" I murmured, but my voice was already breathless. "Taking me into the jungle like this, someone might think you have bad intentions."

"You shouldn’t look at me like that unless you’re ready for what comes next," Tank said, low and rough, like thunder wrapped in gravel. "And when it comes to you, even my best intentions turn out bad."

I barely had time to register the warning before he moved.

In a blur, I was off the ground and slammed against the thick trunk of a jungle tree, bark pressing into my spine. Tank’s massive frame caged me in, one hand fisted in the fabric of Dante’s shirt, dragging it upward until my thighs were bare. The other was braced beside my head, holding back the full weight of his body with trembling restraint.

"You always run the show," he growled. "You always have the last word. But not now. Not here."

His mouth crashed against mine, unforgiving and hot. He didn’t ask for permission; he didn’t take it slow like the others had...

And I loved it.

I gasped, and he took it—devoured it—his tongue sliding past my lips like he’d claimed the right long ago and was just collecting on the debt. His teeth scraped my bottom lip, not enough to draw blood but enough to make me shiver.

"Tank—" I moaned, my voice echoing around us.

"No." His voice was a command, thick and dark. "Don’t talk. Don’t think. You’re mine right now. Mine to hold. Mine to take care of. Mine to break if I want to—" He stopped himself with a breath so sharp it could’ve cut glass. "But I won’t. Because you need this. You need me."

His hand slid up my thigh, rough calluses dragging across sensitive skin.

Every nerve lit up like it had never been touched before. Because maybe it hadn’t. Not like this. Not with the intent to worship through destruction. Not with someone strong enough to handle every broken piece of me and never flinch.

As he promised, Tank was going to break me... and I was completely down for that. To him, I wasn’t already broken, I didn’t need to be handled with kid-gloves. He saw me as I was.

"I’m not fragile," I whispered, more to myself than to him. Even in his roughness, he was impossibly gentle.

"I know," Tank said, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck. "But I’m going to treat you like you matter. And you’re going to take it."

He lifted me, forcing my legs around his waist, my back slamming harder into the tree bark, and the friction made me gasp again. But this time, I liked it.

His teeth found my throat, biting down hard as he marked me. I could feel the bite already starting to scab over and I knew it was going to scar. Even if it didn’t scar today, I would make him bite me every day. To remind me. To remind him. To remind everyone who I belonged to.

Every move he made was calculated. Controlled. Possessive. And I loved it.

Tank pressed his forehead to mine, his voice raw. "I’ve watched every man in that house touch you like you were something borrowed. Like they were afraid you’d vanish. But I’m not scared. Because I know you were made for this."

He thrust his hips forward—not hard, not yet—but enough to make a promise.

"You don’t have to be the Devil right now. You don’t have to decide who lives and dies. You don’t have to control anything."

His hand slid under the shirt, pushing it up slowly.

"Let me take it from here."

I nodded, and his whole body seemed to shudder with it.

Then he ripped the shirt clean off my body.

A sharp inhale, and then his mouth was on me again, hungry and worshipful, tracing the swell of my breast with his tongue before biting down just hard enough to leave a bloom of sensation in its wake.

I moaned, unable to help myself.

Tank grinned like a wolf hearing prey whimper.

"Good girl," he growled.

I grabbed his shoulders, digging my nails in. He didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned into it.

The tree bark scraped my back. His belt clinked. And in the next second, all I felt was him—thick, hot, solid and real, pressing against where I was already soaked from the attention.

"Beg," he said.

I blinked. "What?"

"You want it? Say it."

"Tank—" I moaned again, my brain refusing to work as he continued his onslaught.

He rolled his hips slowly, grinding just enough to make me squirm. "I’ll stop. Right now. You give the word."

I stared at him, breathing hard. He was giving me the choice, even now.

But I didn’t want the choice.

"I need you," I whispered. "I need this. I need you to break me."

And that was all it took.

He didn’t ask again.

He didn’t wait.

His mouth found mine, swallowing my gasp as he thrust inside me, hard and deep.

Pain and pleasure collided in a single, searing moment.

And then I was falling.

Tank held nothing back. His grip on my thighs bruised. His pace was brutal. Every thrust made the tree shudder behind me. He growled my name, again and again, like a war chant between his teeth.

I shattered once again.

Then a third time.

And when I was clawing at him like I’d drown without more, he held me tighter, biting my shoulder as his own body trembled and he finally let go.

Silence fell.

Our breaths were the only sound.

He slowly lowered me, cradling me against his chest like I was the most precious thing in the world.

I didn’t speak.

I didn’t have to.

He kissed the side of my head.

"You don’t have to be strong all the time," he whispered. "Not with me."

And in that moment—just that one—

I believed him.