Page 55 of Hunting Gianna

My hands find purchase in his hair, yanking his head back so I can see his face. His eyes are wild, almost black with desire, his jaw clenched tight. Blood—Brad's, mine, his—smears across his cheek where I've touched him. He looks like a god of war, beautiful and terrible.

"Harder," I demand, voice breaking as he hits a spot deep inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. "Make me feel it tomorrow."

He shifts his grip, hands moving to my ass, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. The new angle lets him go deeper, each thrust bottoming out inside me, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside me with exquisite pain.

"You'll feel me for a week," he promises, voice raw. "Every time you move, you'll remember who you belong to."

The orgasm builds fast, a tidal wave I can't outrun. It crashes over me without warning, my body convulsing around his cock. I scream his name, unable to stop myself.

Knox follows me over the edge, his rhythm faltering as he drives into me one last time, holding himself deep as he comes. I feel the hot pulse of him inside me, filling me up, marking me from the inside out. His forehead drops to my shoulder, his breath coming in harsh pants against my skin.

For a long moment, we stay like that, locked together, my legs still wrapped around his waist, his cock still buried inside me. Then, slowly, he pulls out, lowering me until my feet touch the ground. My legs are shaking so badly I can't stand. Knox catches me as I stumble, and we slide down together, collapsing in a heap at the base of the tree.

I curl into him, my head on his chest, listening to the thundering of his heart. He wraps an arm around me, pulling me closer, his hand stroking my hair with unexpected tenderness.

"You're fucking magnificent," he murmurs against the top of my head. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me?"

I look up at him, studying the sharp angles of his face in the moonlight. There's something new there, something I haven't seen before—a vulnerability beneath the strength, a need that goes beyond the physical.

"I think I do," I whisper, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with bloodstained fingers. "Because you've done the same to me."

He captures my hand, bringing it to his mouth, kissing each fingertip with reverence. "You're mine now," he says, voice low and intense. "Body and soul. There's no going back from this."

I know he's right. What we've done tonight has changed everything. The old Gianna—the one who bent and broke to please others, the one who hid her darkness behind smiles and apologies—she's gone. In her place is someone new, someone who understands that power comes in many forms, and that sometimes the most honest thing you can do is embrace the monster inside.

"I don't want to go back," I tell him, pressing my lips to the pulse point in his throat. "This is where I belong."

We stay there, blood cooling on our skin, bodies entwined on the forest floor. Above us, the stars blink brightly, indifferent to the small deaths and rebirths happening beneath them. Brad's body lies forgotten a few yards away, already beginning the long process of returning to the earth.

I should feel something—regret, maybe, or horror at what we've done. But all I feel is a strange, peaceful clarity, as if I've finally stepped into the person I was always meant to be.

Knox's arms tighten around me, his breath warm against my hair. "My little bird has grown talons indeed," he rasps.

Chapter Sixteen

Knox

Thewalkbackisslow and we’re riding a high. I sling her over my back, piggyback style, her thighs bracketed against my hips, her arms looped tight around my throat like she wants to squeeze the life out of me or maybe keep me forever. I’m fine with either. Her weight is nothing. I could carry her through hell and not break stride. Blood still streaks her skin, the black-red drying into warpaint. Her breath stirs my hair at the nape, hot and unsteady, and every time I feel it, I get hard again. I didn’t even let her put her pants back on and the wetness from her pussy is seeping through my shirt. I want to drown in her.

Gianna’s lips graze my ear, a shudder running through her that isn’t from the cold. Her legs flex around me. Sometimes shelaughs, but it comes out shaky, like the muscles in her throat don’t remember how to make joy.

Halfway back, I slow down just to see if she’ll complain. She doesn’t. She tugs my hair and says, “You smell like wet dirt and violence,” and I laugh so hard I almost drop her.

“You love it,” I tell her. I want to turn and see her face, but instead I just keep moving, cutting a path through the black until the trees thin and the lights from the cabin bleed through the mist.

She shifts her grip, arms cinching tight enough to choke. “You think I’m a monster now?”

I shrug, her body moving with the motion. “No. I think you’re finally honest.”

She goes quiet after that. The rest of the trip is just the hush of needles underfoot, her heartbeat slamming against my spine.

When we break through the last line of trees, the night splits open: porch light buzzing like a drunk wasp, but the promise of what’s inside was the true prize. Heat, a shower and whiskey. She doesn’t let go until I shoulder through the door and stand in the middle of the living room, our breath hanging like smoke.

“Down, little bird,” I say, but she doesn’t move. I have to pry her off, finger by finger. When I set her on her feet, she staggers, then grabs my wrist for balance.

Her face is feral. Blood and mud and sweat streaked together, her hair a wild snarl. Her shirt is torn open, one nipple peeking through the fabric and she’s naked from the waist down, and I don’t look away, not even when she catches me staring.

“You’re a fucking god, did you know that,” she says, voice low.

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