All Chapters of Break Me Apart (MxM): Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

JAYCE BECKETT He froze. Chest heaving. Blood dripping from his hands, splattering the dirt. Then suddenly, he was at my side. His grip was frantic, almost brutal, tearing at the ropes that cut into my wrists. His fingers trembled, slick with sweat and blood, fumbling with knots until they snapped free. “I’m sorry, baby,” he stuttered, voice breaking, uneven, a jagged mess of guilt and desperation. He clawed at the binds on my ankles next, yanking hard. “I shouldn’t have... fuck me... I shouldn’t have let you see that. Forgive me, baby. Please don’t hate me.” Hate him? My heart was tearing itself open inside my chest, bleeding out for him. “Renato, please... not now.” My voice cracked, like a broken glass. I forced myself to push down the image of what I’d just witnessed, his violence, his madness. Not here. Not now. Survival first. “We need to move. We need to get the fuck out of here.” The ropes fell away. My body was free. But freedom meant nothing with sirens wailing in the dis

JAYCE BECKETTThree years. Three long, brutal years, and yet the ache never left. It didn’t matter how many reports I filed, how many criminals I chased, or how many nights I spent hunched over paperwork. The hollow inside me remained. The kids kept me busy enough to forget—at least for a while. Chocolate tried everything she could: urging me to go to the gay bar downtown, swiping through dating apps, flashing that mischievous grin as she told me to live a little, laughing whenever I scoffed. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want anyone elseNot even a fleeting distraction. Not even a replacement for the emptiness. My chest tightened every time someone glanced at me with expectation or curiosity. My heart wasn’t available, hadn’t been since the day I lost him. Since the day I lost them both.I was just thirty, and already I felt like my best years were behind meThe office was quiet tonight. Case files were scattered across my desk like the remains of fights I hadn’t won. The fluorescent li

JAYCE BECKETTWe walked down the quiet street, our hands linked, and I kept waiting for the world to shift... for something to tell me this wasn’t real.Three years of grief had carved such a hollow inside me that I no longer remembered what it felt like to be whole. But now, with him beside me, I could almost feel the pieces falling back into place.Renato’s palm was warm, solid. His fingers curled around mine like they belonged there, like they had never left. My heart pounded so hard it echoed in my ears, racing with every step we took toward the apartment, toward the kids, toward the life I thought I’d lost forever.Every now and then, I gave his hand a squeeze, afraid he’d disappear if I didn’t keep checking. He squeezed back, and each time the tightness in my chest loosened just a little. But after living so long with the ghost of him, it was hard to believe the real him would stay.The streetlights painted his face in soft gold, and I caught myself stealing glances—memorizing h

JAYCE BECKETT I had been touch-starved, desperately, painfully so. And Renato made sure to fill every void, every aching gap that hunger had carved into me.Renato dwarfed me, a calf beneath a bull, and he continuously rammed his cock back into me, fucking me like one, too. Making sure I never feel the hunger ever again.I clenched every muscle, fingers digging into the mattress for leverage. Renato’s gaze burned in the mirror, sharp and possessive, every thrust a command I couldn’t deny. I accepted every steely thrust, sending one back in return, refusing to collapse under his torrent.Time meant nothing. My knees cried until the bedding was nothing more than sheets of our cum and my tears. My dick pummeled my belly, adding more moisture there, and still the ensemble played.Fire blazed along every part of me. Sweat charged like good soldiers from every pore. The end table lamp crashed to the floor, taking the wooden piece of furniture with it."Next time I leave you, which I don't

MARCELO I woke up tied to a bed. My head was pounding, my body wouldn’t move, and there was a man across from me, watching me, sitting there like he owned the fucking world, like he could decide with one single thought whether I lived or died. I had no idea how I got here. All I knew was that someone had already put a price on my life. Someone wanted me dead. And yet…he hadn’t touched me. Not yet. Maksim Morozov. Son of Konstantin. Russia’s number one hitman. Just looking at him made my chest tighten. That smile… calm, dangerous, like he already knew exactly how he'd break me. Every glance, every flicker of his eyes, every slow movement dragged me further under his control... and I had no idea how to get out. There was no escape. I’d have to outsmart him. Or die trying.