Page 55 of The Vigilant

His grip on my neck tightened, but all I could focus on was the flex of his wrist between my thighs. The powerful snap of the joint as he thrust his fingers deep into my clenching channel, but it was where they curved and stroked that undid me. The pleasure he wrought from my G-spot seemed to pull the very strands of my DNA apart until I was gasping and shuddering—drowning under the onslaught of pleasure.

“That’s it, my little wasp,” he crooned, the tender words mixed with his rough voice was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. “Come for me, come for Daddy.”

White hot pleasure bolted through me like his fingertips were charged with lightning, setting me on fire and letting my orgasm burn.

I screamed into the duvet, the pleasure magnified because the whole of me couldn’t move. I tried to bend—to bow—to try and release some of the tension coiling through me, but he held me prisoner to the pleasure, forcing all of it to crest and disperse solely from the center of my pussy.

“Fuckkk. That’s it,” he groaned. “So good. So beautiful.”

My eyes squeezed shut, feeling the embarrassing burn of tears well to the surface. The orgasm he’d given me was so intense, it shook the very foundation of my fortitudes. It let the woman who fiercely wanted to protect the few people she loved feel the desire to be protected. Cared for. Wrapped up in him.

And that was the most dangerous place I’d ever been: toying with the idea of trusting someone else to protect me. Everyone I’d trusted in the past had failed me.

Dad. Mom. Even Mara after I came back, not trusting that I was only trying to look out for her.

And Tynan…he would fail me, too. If I was stupid enough to give him the chance.

The vision of him swam in the mirror, finally collecting into focus when he slowly slid his fingers from me, the emptiness magnifying the similar hollowness in my chest.

I shouldn’t be so turned on by this—by him. By being held down into the bed. The veneer of being his helpless prey was like a heavy fog, but it was broken with each of my hot breaths, reminding me that I’d begged him for it.I’d begged to be his prey.

The fully clothed, leather-wrapped man kneeled on the bed over my limp, naked body. He stared at his glistening fingers with nothing short of self-loathing. For an instant, the whole image looked like a crime scene. The big, bad biker had killed me dead with nothing more than his bare hands.

Who was I that I wanted him to kill me again?

My pussy clenched with a fresh kind of need, seeing the thick outline of his cock distending his jeans, a distinct spot of wetness even on the dark wash where he leaked into the fabric.

Tynan let out a long groan—one of self-hatred—and then he was gone. Off the bed and into the bathroom. The rush of the faucet blasting into the sink as my fingers curled into the duvet and I slowly got my bearings.

My limbs felt made of Jell-O, weak and too supple to support my own weight, but I managed to push myself up to sit by the time Tynan returned.

My hair slid unintentionally over my shoulders and breasts, giving them some kind of unnecessary modesty since he hardly glanced at me as he strode through the room. I couldn’t put together what he was doing until he bent and swiped something from the floor.

My phone.

“Wait—”

“We’re done for tonight. We’ll talk in the morning,” he clipped, staring at his hand like either my cell or his fingers were the traitor in our midst.

I had a feeling I knew which was the culprit.

I was in no position to argue. To fight. To make demands. I’d already tried all of it, and this was where I’d ended up: my body turned into a weapon against me.

The door closed with a surprisingly soft click behind him, leaving me alone with the only person I could ever truly trust to protect me.

Myself.

Chapter Twelve

Tynan

Riding a motorcycle with a straining, pierced dick wasn’t the kind of torture I’d wish on my worst enemies, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I had to get out of there. Any longer in that house—near her would’ve tested the very edge of my boundaries, an edge I hadn’t known existed until I was two fingers deep in her tight cunt.

Fuck.

How the hell had this night ended like this?

My bike hugged the curves of the winding coastal highway as I tried to pinpoint the moment things had gone so fucking far off track.

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