Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 77171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
He tongues it, pulls on it, wraps his lips around it.
Then he slides his tongue through my folds, making a slurping sound. “Fuck, you taste good.”
He wasn’t kidding. He’s eating me. Devouring me as if I’m a feast and he’s been starving. I tower over the cliff once more, feeling more than hearing words from Samson’s mouth as he licks, sucks, tugs…
Delaney…
Weakness…
Delicious…
So wet…
Little beauty…
Little bitch…
Mine…
I can’t talk. Can hardly breathe. I don’t need words to tell him how much I want him. My body is screaming it out loud enough for both of us as I arch beneath him with every touch, every movement, every sensation spiking higher than before until all at once there’s nothing left but a climax so intense it rocks through me like a lightning strike.
He pulls away and raises his head. His eyes are an amber so penetrating that I’m almost sure they could catch fire.
“Not a weakness,” he grits out, before he climbs back up and shoves his hard cock back into me.
21
SAMSON
Not a weakness…
Not a weakness…
Not a weakness…
I fuck her, fuck her, fuck her. Her tangy flavor is still on my tongue. God, she’s delicious. Every part of her. Her body is beautiful—long and lean with tits just the right size. Her nipples are brownish pink and feel like heaven under my lips and tongue. And that pussy… So fucking tight.
Thrust, thrust, thrust…
I ache for her. Fucking ache for her.
I look into her eyes—those post-climactic eyes. God, she’s beautiful. Everything about her, but especially her courage. Her defiance. Her fucking impudence.
“Come,” I grit out. “Give me one more, my beautiful little bitch.” I hold myself steady on one arm and give her breast a hard slap.
She gasps, but it accomplishes my goal.
She clenches around me, and I thrust once more, releasing.
It ends the same way it started.
Abrupt.
Uncontrolled.
Finished before I decide it should be.
My breath is rough. Too rough. But hers is worse. I’ve taken her for a hell of a ride.
But as much as I’d like to sink my dick into that tight ass of hers, this can’t happen again.
I don’t move.
Not right away.
I’m still on top of her, bearing my own weight so I don’t crush her.
Still feeling her.
Still too close.
That’s the danger.
Not what just happened. The fuck? Nothing wrong with that.
The danger is if I stay.
The silver scales of justice catch a light from above.
She rolls out from under me and turns, facing me. Her body is flushed an enticing shade of pink.
And I’m still dressed.
“Are you going to level with me?” she asks.
I don’t reply. I simply move off the bed, stand, and adjust my boxer briefs and jeans, zipping them.
She stares at me. No fear in her eyes. Her just-fucked look is hot as hell, but it’s clear her brain is in control now rather than her body.
“Did you kill him?”
Wow.
That was out of left field.
Neither of us has mentioned Victor Halstead before now, but we both know his death is what she’s investigating.
She’s back to business.
Like what just happened doesn’t change anything.
Like I don’t change it.
I shouldn’t care. Caring makes a person weak. So I tamp down any emotion, and I feel something colder.
I look down at her.
Really look this time.
And I see it.
She’s not backing down. Not from me. Not from any of it.
“You don’t want that answer,” I say.
And I walk out of her bedroom.
Because I know if I stay here… If I touch her again… If I let this go one step further…
I won’t walk it back.
So I leave before I take more than I already have.
And before she does the same to me.
22
DELANEY
From the bedroom, I hear the front door close.
He’s gone.
No hesitation. No lingering. No second look. Like what just happened doesn’t require one.
That should bother me. But it doesn’t. What bothers me is how easily I let him leave.
I sit there for a moment, still on the edge of the bed, my pulse not quite steady, my breath still uneven.
I feel no regret. Not even close. The mattress is still warm from where he lay. I can still feel him.
I shut that down and push to my feet.
I don’t look in the mirror. I already know what I’ll see. Naked body. Flushed skin. Swollen lips. A woman who just let Samson Vexley pin her to a wall, nearly choke her, and take what she didn’t stop him from taking.
Go lock your door.
I hear the words in Samson’s voice. In fact, I’m surprised as hell he didn’t say them before he left.
My pulse kicks again. Not from fear. From something else. Something I refuse to name.
Turn away from it.
Turn away from him.
Focus.
That’s what matters.
Not Samson. Not what just happened. Not the reason he was here.
And not the reason I didn’t stop him.
I throw on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and then return to my living area where I lock the front door and then flip open my laptop. The screen lights up to the same notes I left open last night.