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)
I start moving again, but something’s changed. That rising darkness—it’s still there, but it feels different now. Less like passion and more like…compulsion. Like something separate from me, pushing me toward an edge I can’t see.
Ignore it and focus on her.
I reach between us, finding her swollen clit, and start rubbing in tight circles. “Are you going to come for me again?” I ask. “Can you give that to me? Come on my cock like a good girl?”
Despite the fact that she just came like gangbusters, I can tell she’s close again from the way she’s clenching around me, the desperate, breathy little sounds she’s making. I drive into her harder, faster, my thumb working her clit, and when she finally tips over the edge once more, I follow her.
The orgasm rips through me, every muscle in my body seizing. I spill inside her with a groan that sounds more like a roar, pumping her full of my release until there’s nothing left.
For a long moment, we just breathe. I’m still buried inside her, my forehead pressed to her chest, her bound hands trembling above us. Then, I inch backward and put my hands on her soft thighs, keeping them open as I watch my cum leak out of her, making a mess in the hay.
I decide to make an even bigger mess and push it back up her thighs and deep inside her, surprised to find her still throbbing, the urge to breed her never going away.
Then, I reach up and undo the rope, freeing her wrists. She winces as she lowers her arms, and I immediately pull them into my lap, massaging the faint red marks the twine left behind.
“You okay?”
“More than okay.” She smiles up at me, her eyes heavy lidded. “That was…”
“Intense?”
“I was going to say incredible.” She pauses, her expression shifting to concern. “But are you okay? That headache—”
“It’s nothing.” I kiss her palm, then each of her fingers. “Happens sometimes. Probably just dehydration. Or a patty melt. Maybe I oughta start taking LactoEase.” I look at her breath in the air, condensing from the cold. “We should get going, go back into the house. Should be warm enough, though if it’s too weird for you, we could go anywhere. Get a hotel.”
“I’m good with anything,” she says, reaching for her scattered clothes. I watch her for a moment, drinking in the sight in the dying light—the marks I’ve left on her skin, the satisfied curve of her lips, the way she moves like a woman who’s been thoroughly fucked. Ravaged, even.
And then, distantly, I hear it: the rhythmic thump of helicopter blades, growing louder by the second.
My little vacation is over.
“Nate?” Mia is frozen, her bra half-on. “Is that—”
“Yes.” The hollow feeling in my chest spreads. “They found me.”
The helicopter sets down in the same field where Danny parked the Meridian. By the time Mia and I climb down from the hayloft, Julia is already emerging from the aircraft, her light hair whipping in the rotor wash, followed by two men in black suits.
She doesn’t look angry, which is a bad sign. What she does look is terribly, horribly out of place on my family property. It makes me feel sick, like she’s some sort of virus infecting my roots.
“Vanguard.” She stops a few feet away, hands clasped in front of her. “We need to talk.”
“How did you find me?” I say, grinding my teeth.
“How do you think? You know the hover car has its own tracking system.” Her gaze flicks to Mia, who stands slightly behind me, then back to my face. “I tried reaching you for hours. Your watch is in privacy mode, back at your apartment. Do you have any idea what that looks like from our end?”
“Like I wanted some space without you breathing down my fucking neck.”
Her eyes widen, and Mia gasps from behind me. This might be the first time I’ve ever talked to her like this, but fuck it.
The shock is quickly smoothed away. “No, what it looks like is that you’ve gone rogue, and that’s a very dangerous place for you to be.” She steps closer, lowering her voice. “Thirteen people are dead, Nate.”
The words hit me like a punch. “What?”
“Structural collapse. An old parking garage in Queens. The whole thing came down during rush hour.” She pauses. “By the time emergency services reached the scene, it was too late. But if you’d been there—”
The realization settles over me like ice water. “I could have gotten them out.”
“Yes. You could have.”
I think about those thirteen people. People who got up this morning, went to work, parked their cars in a garage that had probably stood for fifty years, people who never made it home because I was here, in Montana, fucking a woman in a hayloft while their world collapsed around them.