Page 25 of The Stalker
Chapter Sixteen
No More Fight In Me
Bianka
I don’t know when the fight left me.
Maybe it was when his weight pressed me so deep into the dirt I couldn’t move.
Maybe it was when his mouth found my scar, tasting what I thought no one could ever touch.
Maybe it was the way my body betrayed me again and again, arching, pressing, aching for more even as I sobbed for less.
All I know is this—I can’t fight him anymore.I don’t want to.
“Bianka...”His voice is against my ear, low and guttural, a snarl tangled with a plea.“Say it.Say you’re mine.”
“No...”The word shakes out of me, broken but defiant.My body trembles under him, my wrists sore from his grip.But the lie tastes bitter.My thighs are clamped tight, but it’s only trapping him closer, the hard muscle of his erection grinding right where I’m burning.
He feels it.He knows.
“God, you’re wet for me, aren’t you?”he growls, rutting harder, dragging a moan from deep in my throat.“You’re terrified and you still want me.You’ve always wanted me.”
“Stop...”I gasp, but my hips betray me again, rocking helplessly against his thigh.Shame rips through me, but so does heat, flooding me until I can’t hold it in.
Tears blur my vision.My lips part and the truth spills out.
“I want you,” I whisper, broken and raw.
His whole body goes rigid.His grip on my wrists falters just enough to make my pulse stutter.Then he groans, feral and guttural, his mouth crashing against my neck once more.His teeth scrape, his tongue drags, and I arch against him with a sob that sounds too much like a moan.
He is completely unhinged.I know I should feel fear or revulsion but all I feel is special.That I could, in my damaged state, push a man like him to the brink of madness with a need he can’t—won’t—suppress any longer.
“Say it again,” he demands, his hand releasing one wrist to slide down, rough and trembling, gripping my hip.He drags me back against his cock, hard and throbbing, grinding into me with brutal force.“Say it, Bianka.”
“I ...I just want to feel,” I cry, the words spilling out between gasps.“Please, Griffin.I just want to feel.”My mind hasn’t fully given in yet, but my body has, and I know that even if this is just for one night, I will regret not being with him.
He growls, low and vicious, like my surrender is gasoline poured on his fire.His hand slips beneath the torn sweater, fingers spreading over my stomach, dragging higher.My skin sparks alive under his touch, shameful heat flooding me as his palm closes over my breast, squeezing hard.
I choke on a moan.
“Fuck, yes,” he hisses, biting down on my shoulder.“I’ve dreamed of this.Of you.For years.”
His thumb brushes over my nipple through the thin fabric of my lacey bra, hardening it instantly.I jerk against him, my thighs clenching, my hips grinding back on instinct.
I can’t stop.I don’t want to.
“Feel me,” he growls, shoving harder against me, rutting like he’ll tear through the fabric between us.“I’ll give you everything you’ve been starving for.”
“Griffin...”My voice is wrecked, my tears hot on my cheeks.But when his hand drags lower, skimming the waistband of my jean shorts, I don’t pull away.
