Stolen Life (Beauty in the Stolen 2) - Page 15

That’s what I think as I pin her down on the hood of the Jeep and slide inside her tight little body. That’s the stake I claim. She’s mine. I told her so on the first night I kidnapped her, and I’ll keep on telling her with words and my body until the truth sinks in. That truth fuels the pivoting of my hips as I take her with harder strokes.

Her thighs fall to the side, letting me in deeper. She’s letting me in in a different way, only into her body, but that’s all right. I’ve got time and patience. Eventually, she’ll open up to me on every level. I’m willing to fight for her heart. I’m not a good man, definitely not the kind of man who deserves her heart, but I’ve never let morals prevent me from taking what I want, and I’ve never wanted anything more than the woman splayed underneath me.

I spread her wider, like a butterfly with its wings open, and take what’s mine with a fervor that drives me from the depth of my soul. In a distant corner of my mind, I register that I should use a condom, but it’s hard to stop when she’s hot, tight, wet, and fits me like a velvet fist. The simple idea of being buried inside her body is enough to set me off.

Reluctantly, I pull out and belatedly find the condom in the pocket of the pants tangled around my ankles. She pushes up onto her elbows to watch, fixing her gaze shamelessly on my cock as I roll on the rubber, and I love that she likes to watch. I love that she’s taking as much with her eyes as with those plump, ravished lips and voluptuous body.

Gripping her waist, I drag her to the edge of the hood and flip her around. Her ass is rounded and tight, her skin pale in the dusk that hangs over river. From the minute she caught my eye in the casino dressed in those skinny jeans, I wanted to see her ass naked. I tighten my fingers on those cheeks, greedily grabbing handfuls of her flesh as I wedge my hips between her legs and drive home.

Moaning, she arches her back. The angle is deeper like this, but she’s wet enough to take me. My focus shifts from my pleasure to hers. I no longer want to consume her. I want to make her fall apart and then consume her.

There are many delightful places on her body to hold onto as I pummel into her. I can bend her arms behind her back and lock my fingers around her wrists. I can wrap my hands around the slender arch of her neck. The narrow dip of her waist is a vulnerable spot for a man’s iron grip. The feminine curve of her hip was made for the shape of my palm. A small, soft breast and a hard, little nipple will give me perfect purchase. But it’s the silky, silver strands of her hair that I choose, and the swollen nub between her folds.

Twisting her long tresses twice around one hand, I slide the other between the hood and her flat stomach and down between her legs. She turns her face to the side and rests her cheeks on the cold surface of the metal, watching me with quiet submission. I gently pull her hair and pinch her clit. She rewards me with a loud moan, her pretty, baby-blue eyes going out of focus. I give her more, more of the pain and more of the pleasure, making her moan a bit harder with each stroke until she shows me her threshold with a scream that tears through the air.

The bush around us goes quiet. The birds and crickets quit their songs. The hippo disappears under the water, and the sun sinks below the horizon. Sins and wicked deeds happen in the dark. In the shadows that give way to night, I steal what’s left of her resistance, taking her pleasure like a thief and owning it like it’s my right. She comes around me in a dazzling display of tightening muscles. I come the hardest in my life, not going slowly or being gentle. I’m beyond control. She falls apart, and I make good on my silent promise. I consume her.

The spasms that wrack me are so violent they’re painful. I ride it out, pumping to the crazed need until the pleasure fizzles out and all that’s left is the wild beat of my heart. Falling forward, I wrap my arms around her. Our cheeks are pressed together, our erratic breaths mixing. I inhale the air she exhales and give her mine.

Worried that I’ll crush her, I lift my weight. I want to stay inside her, but the temperature drops quickly after sunset, and she has goosebumps on her arms. In a pathetic attempt to avoid the inevitable, I rub her arms to warm her, and when she strains to get up, I finally straighten and pull out.

Tags: Charmaine Pauls Beauty in the Stolen Erotic
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