Page 122 of Fixation
“You’ve had your fun, Harper. Hiding from me. Pretending you don’t ache for my attention. For my cock.” The mask is off, down to his neck. It isn’t right, either, isn’t right at all that mypussy clenches for him. “That’s over now. You’re done hiding this sweet little cunt from me. I’m here to take what’s always been mine.”
There’s no denying the sigh of relief that crashes through me. He came back. Despite my fears and misgivings, I want him. I’ve been waiting for him to take me again.
My unhinged obsession never really left.
“And in case you were wondering. This isn’t a request.” His eyes deliver a warning before he says, “Be quiet.”
He releases his grip on my mouth, and I obey him. I don’t breathe a sound. My lips are bound shut by Anderson’s heat.
I trust him.
His clothes rustle as he moves closer. I spread my legs wider, wanting him. Preparing myself for what’ll come next. Opening up for him is as involuntary as breathing.
Like taking his cock in one swift shove.
“That sweet fucking pussy.” He’s huge, stretching me. Every brutal inch of him. “Harper. Fuck. You stretch so pretty for me.”
His eyes lock on mine.
A shiver runs up my spine. I’m helpless. Againsthim. Against myheart.
“I missed you.” His hand, wet with my arousal, handles my legs, wrapping them around his middle. “You felt it too, didn’t you? You ached for me just as much. I fucking know it.”
These words should sound affectionate. Loving. Tender.
Nothing about Anderson is ever soft. None of those qualities is a part of who he is.
This man isn’t a lover whispering sweet nothings to me. He isn’t asking me to want him back.
He demands it. He growls the words at me.
Say it or there’ll be consequences.
Hating him should be my only emotion. Fighting him should be my only response.
Impossible.
I want him. Not just another orgasm or a rough fuck.
I want the man who took care of me.
I want the man who stole me in broad daylight and locked me up in his basement.
“Fuck you.” My hands go to his shoulders. Nowhere else they’d rather be.
“I will.” His ass is tight against the heels of my feet. His forehead presses to mine.
His muscles ripple the longer he holds me. Cursing, he protects the back of my head with his large hand.
Time stills as he throbs inside me.
Anguish bleeds through his eyes. Relentlessness flashes in them.
I know before he starts working his hips that it’s going to hurt.
“Please.”
“You”—thrust—“missed”—thrustand fuck, the wall bruises my ass, the pain sending another surge of heat between my legs—“me.”
