Page 52 of Bad Girl Dilemma

I lean in closer, brace my hands against the headboard.

The angle makes his cock even more brutal and delicious. My nipples graze his chest, sparking wildfires filled with electricity.

His cock pistons inside me, his upper half barely moving as his stare commands mine.

God, he’s so fucking good at this.

With clinical fascination he tracks my gasps and jerks. My moans and shivers.

When my thighs shake from the effort of wringing every ounce of energy from his body he grips my hips, guiding my pace even as I tremble, even as my moans start to sound more like sobs.

“Look at me.” His voice cuts through the haze. Sharp. Absolute.

I try. I try to lift my gaze to his, but everything’s too much—his cock buried deep, the ache between my legs, the burn and promise of every orgasm he’s dragged from me like a confession.

“I said, look at me.”

His fingers tighten just enough to make me gasp. “You want your prize, little thief? Then fucking earn it. Come on my cock while holding my eyes. Don’t you dare look away.”

My breath catches. Panic flickers through me.

I’m not sure I can.

Not because I don’t want to—but because everything in me is unraveling. My little game is backfiring. “I can’t?—”

“Yes, you can,” he growls, thrusting up hard. “You’re mine. You take what I give you, and you look me in the eye when I ruin and reward you.”

And just like that, I shatter.

With his name on my lips, tears slipping down my cheeks, and his slate-grey eyes burning straight through me.

We fuck until we’re both dripping sweat, until the sheets are damp and my thighs shake from the effort of wringing every ounce of energy from his body.

And still, I don’t stop.

Because I can’t. Because he won’t let me. Because somewhere between the thrusts and the commands, I stopped being in control.

And now I’m caught in my own game of destruction—bleeding for a man I was supposed to break.

CHAPTER 14

Dante

She thinks I’m asleep.

That’s cute.

I hear the faint rustle of a T-shirt over bare skin. The quiet click of the bedroom door. Her light footsteps down the hall. I rise and follow, naked and feet bare.

In time to hear the telltale clink of a spoon against a bowl. A smile curves my lips before I can stop myself.

Cereal. Always with the fucking cereal.

For a hacker who can dismantle the world’s digital skeleton, she still eats like a college dropout. There’s something disarmingly honest about it. Something that makes it hard—impossible—to keep my distance.

I stay still in the hallway for another minute, just breathing. Already missing her. The sheets were warm where her body was. My cock aches from the relentless rhythm of her riding me half the night. And even now, my pulse won’t settle.

Because she’s inside me in ways I didn’t fucking plan for.

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