Page 89 of The Outlaw's Savage Revenge

I bite my lip, his reaction driving my greed for more . . . power. I start to roll my hips, tentative at first, like I’m giving him a subtle lap dance. And then, feeding off his gasps and moans, I swivel my hips more confidently as the pain eases into a pleasurable ache.

Cade’s grip tightens on my hip as curses spill from his lips. “Baby.” He throws his head back, his muscles straining in stark relief. “You fuck me so good.”

Something about his loss of control makes me go wild.

I move faster. Then, seeing the way he growls each time I take him deep, I push past the last of my fear, change the angle, and start moving up and down. The motion draws helpless, tortured sounds from his throat.

Andthen, to my surprise, I find I’m the one who starts to unravel. Each time I take him deep, nerve endings drag tight against his rigid length transforming each stroke into a flood of pleasure.

“Oh, Cade . . . you’re . . . you—”

“I know, baby.”

As if waking from slumber, Cade’s dominance returns. His grip turns bruising as he takes over, driving up into me, each thrust hitting with devastating precision that spot that makes my vision blur. Pain and pleasure crash over me in violent waves, too intense to process. All I can do is take it as he wrecks me.

“Cade!” I cry out, thrashing against him, but he doesn’t stop. His punishing rhythm continues until the orgasm tears through me like a storm, seizing every muscle.

Only then does he still, hands digging into my flesh as he holds me down, grinding deeper while I convulse around him. His eyes devour every reaction, every broken cry, like he’s memorizing how he destroyed me.

When I’m nothing but a trembling heap, Cade tenses beneath me. Without warning, he pulls out of me, and then, he’s stroking himself hard. A guttural sound tears from his throat as thick ropes of cum splash across my breasts and stomach—marking me, claiming me.

When he’s finished, I bury my flaming face into the crook of his neck and try to process the sheer intensity of what just happened.

His light, feathery touches return, stroking up my back in slow, soothing motions like he’s calming a storm. His lips brush against my shoulders and up my neck, the fleeting tenderness of it contrasting with what he just did.

“Luciana,” he whispers, softer than I’ve ever heard him. Not a growled command. Just my name murmured like a secret meant for only the two of us.

And something inside me breaks.

A sob escapes before I can stop it, and then another until I’m shaking with embarrassingly loud sobs.

Cade pulls me closer, his lips brushing my ear. “Don’t beat yourself up, baby. You couldn’t have known what you were missing out on all those years.”

The mirth simmering in his voice should piss me off. He promised he wouldn’t make fun of me. “Cade, I can’t handle your cockiness right now.”

“I’d say you handled it pretty damn well.”

I rear back to glare daggers at him, but all it does is make him throw his head back and belly laugh—the bastard.

When he finally catches his breath, he shakes his head in mock disbelief. “The fucking audacity of you though. Building an adult dating app, launching a sex toy line . . . and you’ve never even had sex? Where’s the authenticity?”

Groaning, I drop my head onto his shoulder. “God, I hate you.”

“I know,” he murmurs against my ear, his breath warm and intimate. “One of the hazards of trusting me.”

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water.

Something about the way he says it—half teasing, half warning—sends a cold sensation spread through my chest, even as the warmth of his body presses against mine.

Trust.

The word echoes in my head like a warning bell. Is that what this is?

My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything else.

I’m suddenly grateful for the phone I hid in the bathroom. My backup plan. If there was ever a time to kick off my heels and run, it’s right fucking now.

Because what Cade Quinn evokes is far more dangerous than trust.

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