Page 105 of X Marks the Stalker
Xander pulls the car over, tires crunching on gravel. The headlights illuminate the empty stretch of highway, nothing but trees and darkness surrounding us.
“What is it?” His voice is tense, alert. He scans the mirrors, probably checking for the return of our police friend or other threats. “Are you injured? Did something happen during the stop that I missed?”
I turn to face him, aware of how ridiculous what I’m about to say will sound.
“There’s something wrong with me,” I whisper, my voice tight. My cheeks burn hot while everything lower tightens and pulses. “I shouldn’t—this is so messed up, but—” I squeeze my thighs together, unable to meet his eyes. “I want you. Right now. Like I’ve never wanted anything.” The confession scrapes my throat raw. “That makes me terrible, doesn’t it? We just—there’s a body in the trunk and I’m—God, I’m broken. I’m going to hell.”
“Probably are. But not because you’re horny.”
“Xander!”
“Just saying.” His expression shifts from concern to surprise, then something darker. The dash lights cast shadows across his face, making him look dangerous in a way that only intensifies the heat building inside me.
“I so want to fuck you right now,” I add, my voice low and urgent.
His gaze locks with mine, the same hunger reflected back.
“I won’t object,” he says. “Hold that thought.”
Xander steers the car off the main road, navigating between darkened trees until we’re hidden from the road. The headlights cut off, plunging us into darkness save for the faint glow of the dashboard.
“Here?” I ask, looking around at our surroundings—the cramped front seat, the knowledge of what’s in the trunk just feet away.
Xander follows my gaze toward the back of the car. “He won’t be watching. Dead men tell no tales.”
“That’s not funny,” I say, but laugh anyway, the sound edged with hysteria.
His eyes are serious, almost predatory in the dim light. “Come here.”
He pulls the lever to slide his seat back, creating just enough space. I crawl over the center console, my movements clumsy with urgency, knees hitting the gearshift before I straddle his lap. His hands find my hips, gripping with bruising force.
“This is so fucked up,” I whisper against his mouth.
“Do you want to stop?”
“God, no.”
I fumble with his belt, hands shaking with need rather than fear. His cool composure cracks, replaced by something raw and hungry that matches the frenzy building inside me. The windows fog from our breath as I free him from his pants.
No time for finesse. I push my underwear aside and sink down onto him in one swift motion that pulls a gasp from both of us. The sensation is overwhelming—too much and not enough all at once. I grip the headrest behind him for leverage and move, finding a desperate rhythm.
Xander’s composure shatters. He yanks down the neckline of my dress, exposing my breasts to the cool air. His mouth latches onto one nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before biting down harder than he ever has before. The sharp edge of pain only heightens everything else, and I cry out, arching into him.
“Harder,” I demand, driving down onto him with increasing force. The car rocks with our movements, suspension creaking in protest.
He switches to my other breast, his bite leaving marks I’ll see tomorrow, evidence of this moment of madness. His hands guide my hips, setting a punishing pace that I match eagerly.
The angle is all wrong, but so perfect. The steering wheel digs into my back as I ride him harder. The position forces me to take him deeper than before, discomfort blending with pleasure until they become indistinguishable.
“God, you feel amazing,” Xander groans, composure obliterated. “Your pussy is so fucking tight around me.”
His words send a jolt through me.
“You like fucking me like this?” he continues, voice rough against my ear. “In a car in the middle of nowhere with a dead body ten feet away?”
“Shut up,” I gasp, but my body betrays me, clenching around him at his words.
“Your cunt gets tighter every time I mention it,” he observes, thrusting up to meet my movements. “Such a fucked-up thing to get off on.”
