Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 169266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
“Yes.” No hesitation. No flinching. Just that steady gaze and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “God help me, yes.”
I yank the shirt over her head and she’s completely naked. Her body is familiar and strange all at once—I know every curve, every freckle of her sun-kissed skin, but I’m seeing her differently now. Not as the woman I loved, but as the weapon she was trained to be.
Both versions make me hard.
“Turn over.”
She complies, and I press her into the mattress face-first, my hand on the back of her neck, holding her down. She could fight—I’ve seen her fight, seen what she’s capable of—but she doesn’t. She just lies there, breathing hard, waiting.
Maybe even trusting.
But this isn’t about trust. This is about power. About control. About taking back something she stole from me.
I strip off my own clothes with one hand, keeping the other on her neck, keeping her pinned. When I’m done, I run my other hand down her back, over her ass, between her cheeks, spreading them.
“You want this?” I position myself at her entrance, feeling how wet she is, how ready, no matter what her answer is. “Say it. You know I need to hear it.”
“I want this.”
“Say please, little killer.”
A pause. Then, she quietly says, “Please.”
I thrust into her in one hard stroke.
She cries out—pain or pleasure or both—and I don’t give her time to adjust. I fuck her hard and fast, punishing her with every stroke, my hand still on her neck, my weight pressing her into the mattress. The heat of her is staggering, the grip of her body pulling me deeper, and even as I try to keep some part of myself separate, I can’t. Every thrust drags a groan out of me that sounds like it’s being torn from somewhere else.
And she takes it. She takes all of it. Her hands fist in the sheets and her body arches beneath mine and she makes sounds that are going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
“This is what you wanted?” I lean down, my lips at her ear, my hips never slowing. “To get fucked by the asset? To have me inside you one more time before—”
“Shut up.” Her voice is ragged. “Just—shut up and—”
I grab her hair and yank her head back, changing the angle, and she screams.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” I’m close already—too close, wound too tight, days of tension building to this moment, all this emotion, all this anger. “You don’t get to give orders anymore. You don’t get to—”
She comes.
I feel it—the clench and pulse around my cock, the way her whole body shakes—and it drags me over the edge with her. I bury myself to the hilt and spill inside her, my vision blurring with stars, my hand tightening on her neck until some distant part of my brain screams too hard, too hard and I force myself to let go.
We collapse together.
For a long moment, the only sound is our ragged breathing. My body is still thrumming, that post-orgasm haze making everything soft and distant. I’m not thinking clearly. I’m not thinking at all.
Which is why I don’t see it coming.
One second she’s beneath me, satiated and spent. The next, her elbow drives into my throat with surgical precision.
I choke, rearing back instinctively, and she’s already moving—twisting out from under me, bare feet hitting the floor, sprinting for the door. She’s a slippery little thing, she knew exactly which moment I’d be at my most vulnerable and she waited for it.
Fuck!
I lunge after her, naked, throat burning. She’s almost at the door, then her hand closes on the knob.
Before she can open it, I grab her around the waist and slam her into the wall.
She fights. Fucking hell, she fights. Elbow to my ribs, heel scraping down my shin, her whole body twisting and writhing as she tries to break my grip. But I’m stronger than any human on this planet and I’m furious.
“You—” I spin her around and pin her against the wall with my forearm across her collarbone, pressing just hard enough to make breathing difficult. “That’s what this was? You fucked me so you could escape?”
She’s panting, naked except for the sweat cooling on her skin, and even now—even with my arm on her throat and rage boiling in my chest—some sick part of me notices how beautiful she is. How fucking fierce, like a lioness.
“Can you blame me?” she gasps out. “You’re holding me prisoner. What did you think I was going to do, just accept it?”
“I thought—” I stop myself. What did I think? That she wanted me? That she needed me the way I needed her? That for five fucking minutes, we could pretend none of this was happening?
Idiot. You goddamn fucking moron.
“You used me,” I grind out. “Again.”