Branded Read Online Saffron A. Kent

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Dark, Virgin Tags Authors: Saffron A. Kent Advertisement

Advertisement

So her secrets were safe.

Or at least safe from the world until they got into my hands. I won’t apologize for it, though. I won’t say I didn’t mean it, because I absolutely did.

My plan was to lure her out and seduce her into marrying me. I will admit to an attack of conscience, though, that led me to send her away at the café. But when she found out my real name, I didn’t have a choice but to take her.

And here she is now.

In the flesh.

When I left to find a strip club, she was already out for the night. I guess the day took a toll on her. So she’s on the bed, sleeping on her back, her head on the pillow with her blond hair scattered around it; one of her small hands is curled by her cheek, and the other rests on her belly. Her cheeks are flushed and her dark blond eyelashes cast shadows on them. Under the dim yellow light, her hair looks like a halo and she looks like an angel.

Like an answer to all my prayers.

I don’t pray, but I think she is the answer. It was a pure stroke of luck that she fell into my lap, and now that she has, I’m not letting her go.

I enter and close the door behind me. I’m not exactly quiet, but she doesn’t move; she’s a heavy sleeper, something I found out last night. Or maybe all that screaming and pounding on the door knocked her out. Either way, I don’t think she’s going to wake up anytime soon.

I sit down in the chair by the door and take my cap off. Without taking my eyes off her, I unlace my boots. When I’m done, I stand up, snag the T-shirt at my back, and yank it off my body. I walk to the bed as I unbutton my jeans. I drag the zipper down and climb onto the bed.

The lower half of her body is covered by a white sheet, and I take it off, revealing her. She’s still got her white dress on, the one I bought her. The one she wore this morning.

Her wedding dress.

Something like satisfaction rushes through my veins. I’m not sure why or what the fuck it even means. But seeing her in a dress I bought, seeing her in a dress I told her to wear like the one at the café, does something to me. It makes me feel… powerful.

Possessive.

Primal.

I take her in now, all sleepy and soft, unaware. I wrap my hands around her ankles and spread her legs. She lets out a long breath but keeps sleeping.

Good.

I don’t need her awake for this, for what I plan to do. It wasn’t my need that made me find a strip club, but her. I am hard up from prison but not as hard up as I am for her.

My wife.

Tiny little thing with curves for days. Hills and valleys, crests and swells and fucking dips. Her body’s a landscape. A wonderland. That you want to map with your fingers.

If you were someone else.

If you were me, though, you’d want to more than map. I want to plunder and ravage. Dig my fingers, my teeth. Grab and grope and leave my mark. Brand her in the way her family has branded me.

So that’s what I’m doing.

Leaving her my mark.

I’ve wanted to do it since the very first letter she wrote me, and somehow more than just reading it, I heard her voice in my head. I never could’ve imagined, though, how fucking sweet it’d turn out to be. Like the strums of a guitar around the campfire after a long, hard day of roping bulls and wrangling horses.

Kneeling between her open thighs, I fist my cock and jerk off, staring at her face. Taking in her pale skin and pink lips. The delicate line of her neck. It was so easy to wrap my fingers around her throat and squeeze. So easy to feel the thrum of her pulse on my palm. If I’d squeezed hard enough, I bet I would’ve slowed down her breathing, left my fingerprints.

I groan at the thought, pre-cum sliding down my length, lubing up my hand.

With my other hand, I reach down and inch up her dress, careful not to wake her. Her panties come into view, and Jesus Christ, they’re white too. Something about that color on her gets me going. Like she’s an innocent college girl, and I’m the big, bad criminal cowboy who wants to dirty her up.

And she is innocent, isn’t she?

Untouched. A virgin.

Fuck.

Fuuuuck.

Just the thought of breaching that barrier, breaking her in, makes me choke my dick with my fingers like I imagine her virgin pussy choking me, strangling me, molding to the ridges of my cock. And the thought that I’d never feel that, never feel her tight cunt around my desperate and horny dick because she’s a fucking Turner, makes me so pissed off that my pumps become faster.


Advertisement

Advertisement