“Run, Sophie,” he hissed.
The flashlight dropped to the grass. His erratic heartbeat made it almost impossible for him to hear her tennis shoes rustling in the damp lawn. But he made out the direction of her flight.
He lunged after her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sophie tore through the soft grass, the bonfire by the lake and the distant lights in the house her only guides in the pitch blackness. She had no idea why her heart bounded in her chest with so much excitement; no idea why she was running from Thomas when she wasn’t afraid of him.
Not really.
But something elemental was making her run, causing her blood to race through her veins. Every nerve in her body was suddenly vibrating with energy, making her hyperaware of the velvety, thick cloak of darkness that surrounded her, of her straining muscles and drumming heart . . . of the mounting tension in her sex that was amplified by the friction of her pumping thighs.
In a fragmented manner she recalled the excitement of having a boy chase her on the playground for a kiss, an innocent reenactment of some atavistic instinct, some old trace of a primitive thrill.
But Thomas was no seven-year-old boy. And that kiss he’d just given her hadn’t been a prelude to anything innocent. Warm liquid surged between her legs, dampening her sex.
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sp; She heard the sound of the fabric of his shorts swishing as he pumped his legs. He was just feet behind her.
Her eyes went wide and adrenaline poured into her veins, bursting into her muscles with a surge of electrifying chemical energy. She ran toward the house, some part of her brain associating it with normalcy and safety, but she could tell by the sound of his breathing that Thomas was closing in on her, her flight no match for his long, powerful legs. His low, harsh voice echoed in her brain.
Run, Sophie.
She nearly choked in rising anxiety. This was madness . . . pure lunacy. Why was she running from him? She considered spinning around and confronting him, but she wasn’t ruled by logic at that moment.
She cried out sharply when she felt his hand on her elbow. He jerked her to a stop, cutting off the cry in her throat. She pulled at her arm like a wild creature caught in a trap, but he grasped her shoulders with both hands and spun her around.
He pulled her against him. She could feel how rigid his muscles were and the heat resonating even through his damp clothing. She felt his breath striking her face in warm, irregular jags.
He shook her lightly, causing their pelvises to thump together.
“Why did you ask me here? Why do you keep asking me all those questions about my father? What do you know? What are you trying to accomplish?”
She gasped at the impact of his staccato, harsh words striking her like gunfire.
“I don’t know what you mean—”
“Good girls don’t make good liars. Stop playing games, Sophie,” he growled softly before he sank his tongue between her parted lips.
He ravaged her mouth; owned it. She not only allowed his possession, she gloried in it. Heat rolled through her body in an unstoppable torrent. Her awareness became a riot of broken thoughts and overwhelming sensation.
“Thomas,” she moaned, half in desire and half in dazed confusion when he pulled her down into the cool, damp grass and rolled on top of her, his weight pinning her to the ground. His cock felt almost alarmingly engorged when he pressed it along her pussy and lower belly. She inhaled, her eyes going wide when her brain recognized on some instinctive level the scent of a male pitched into a feral frenzy to mate.
Her vagina contracted painfully, answering his silent summons. He reached between them and ripped roughly at the buttons of her shorts, shoving them and her panties down her thighs. The damp grass felt cool next to her heated skin. He ground his cock against her now exposed sex, grunting at the stimulation, before he lifted himself and clawed wildly at the fastenings of his own shorts. She panted as he lowered his clothing, anticipation building in her until it felt like the blood would burst through her veins.
She went entirely still beneath him, her breath catching on a jagged inhale when he grabbed her wrists and transferred them to one large hand. He pinned her arms to the ground above her head.
“I told you to make me go,” he rasped.
“I don’t want you to go. I want you, Thomas,” she replied in a strangled whisper. Tears flowed down her face, their temperature hot compared to the cool drops of rain that mixed with them.
“Then you’re going to have to take the consequences.”
She gritted her teeth, moaning shakily between them when he thrust his cock into her slit. She was wet, aroused like a female in heat—the humid, thick air kissed her moist tissues—but Thomas was enormous with need, and her shorts and panties were gathered around her thighs, constricting their joining, making it impossible for her to open herself to him.
He grunted in profound frustration and whipped his hand down to her thighs, shifting his body and shoving her shorts and panties farther down her legs.