Page 28 of The Stalker
“Don’t you dare,” he snarls, his voice right at my ear, as though he read my thoughts.His grip clamps down on my wrists again, harder than before.“Don’t you fucking dare pretend you didn’t want that.”
Tears blur my vision.“Griffin, I...”
“You came on my hand,” he growls, rutting his cock against my ass, still hard, throbbing, and insistent.“You screamed my name.You begged me to make you feel.That wasn’t a lie, Bianka.That was the truth.”
“I was scared!”I cry out trying to deny his words and what I am feeling.
“You were hungry.”His teeth sink into my shoulder, biting hard enough to make me cry out.“Don’t lie to me.Don’t lie to yourself.Your body knows.And now so do I.”
His hand slides back down, fumbling at the waistband of my jeans.My breath seizes.
“No!”
“Yes.”His snarl rips through the trees, primal and unhinged.“I’ve waited too fucking long.You’re mine.Tonight, I take what’s always been mine.”
The sound of tearing fabric rips the air as he yanks my jeans down, baring me to the cold night.I sob, my body wracked with terror and something else, something hotter that coils low in my belly no matter how I fight it.
The hard length of him presses between my thighs, only his denim separating us.My breath shudders, my heart slamming against my ribs.
“Griffin, please—”
“Please what?”He asks for what seems like the hundredth time tonight, demanding I say the words.Challenging me to deny what he knows I want or beg for it.
His hips grind against me, his cock dragging over my soaked folds through the thin barrier.“Please stop?Or please fuck you?”
I whimper, my voice breaking.“I don’t know...”
“You do.”His voice is a growl, layered with something darker, Thomas curling through every word.“You’ve always known.And now I’m going to remind you.”
He shoves his jeans down just enough, the thick head of his cock sliding against me, slick with my own wetness.My whole body jolts, panic and heat crashing together until I can’t tell them apart.
“This is happening,” he snarls into my ear, his hand pinning mine so hard my knuckles scrape against the dirt.“No running.No hiding.You’re mine, Bianka.Mine to take.Mine to keep.”
I sob once more, broken and helpless.And then he thrusts.
The stretch rips a cry from my throat, sharp and raw.My body clenches tight around his massive erection, fighting, resisting, but he forces deeper, groaning low and guttural, every inch burying me further into the earth.
“Fuck, yes,” he growls.“Tight.So fucking tight.You were fucking made for me.”
Tears streak my cheeks.My nails claw uselessly into the dirt.My whole body burns with the pain of his intrusion and yet, beneath it, unmistakable, is the pleasure.That deep, aching fullness I never thought I’d feel again.
He sets a brutal rhythm, his hips slamming into me, his cock stretching me wider with every thrust.The sound of our bodies colliding fills the night, wet and obscene and perfect.
And even as I cry, even as shame claws at me, my body responds.My hips jerk back to meet him, my walls clench around him, milking him deeper.
“Oh, my God...”I gasp, the words torn from me.
“That’s it,” he snarls, pounding harder, his mouth bruising my neck.“Say it.Say you’re mine.”
“I’m...”My voice cracks.My body arches, the heat inside me coiling tight again, impossibly fast.“I’m yours!”
His roar shakes the trees as he drives into me, claiming me completely.And when I come this time, it’s not with shame.It’s with surrender.
