Page 6 of Hostile Secret
For a few moments, I let her think she might have a chance at winning by allowing our no rules war to carry on longer than it should. Her confidence connects us while my self-mastery forces us apart.
One minute my hands are all over her soft belly, curvy hips, and toned thighs. In the next, I’m shoving her off me.
There’s a frustrated energy to her grappling movements, as if she needs an outlet, and I’m the very person she’s chosen to spar with.
For every block, kick, and roll between us, I sense her confused arousal in the violent moments our bodies bump together on the stone slabs.
It’s a fucking rush.
Her active body rubs against my clothes. She claws and fists the top I’m wearing, mindlessly tugging the material until our bare skin collides. Sparks fly from her skin to mine.
Turned on beyond belief, I press my mouth to the side of her flushed cheek, taking a second to inhale her natural fragrance kissed with sunshine.
“Tap out before I really hurt you.” The hoarseness of my voice gives away how horny I’ve become.
“Never,” she hisses. “I’ll never yield to you.”
The raspiness to her American accent has my balls in a chokehold, never mind the sight of her brown nipples standing at attention since the skimpy material covering them had slipped. They look edible—juicy, ripe and the very tits solidifying my boner to iron.
“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
That was a one time offer. I expect a surrender. I’m also not a man with the patience to tolerate this sexy niñita’s attempt at wasting time. I have important things to tend to.
In an effortless tackle, I straddle her pelvis. The back of her head settles on the sun-drenched terrace as her chest rises and falls in fast panting breaths. She still squirms for freedom, even though her fearless efforts are thwarted by my sheer strength alone.
Game over.
“Get off me, Giovanni!”
“Not until you surrender,” I goad, both of us knowing she’s already lost.
The way I’ve roughly trapped India beneath me shows her who’s the stronger opponent. I’m not surprised she’s into jiu jitsu given her brother's proficiency in the sport. However, in this scenario, she’s the student and I’m the master.
Aware of how her struggle has my pulse thrumming and my libido soaring, I pin her arms over her head and notice how my dick is primed for action. I didn’t get this hard on the flight earlier. Not even close.
She groans and growls, her nostrils flaring as she inhales. Her hips move upwards, maybe seeking friction or simply to tease my self-restraint.
In the unspoken moments where her teeth bare and her nails burrow into my flesh, I imagine slicing my knife through the knotted strings of her bikini to finger her tight little cunt. I want to confirm how wet she is for me and then claim it as my own while she lies here at my mercy.
It wouldn’t be worth it––not when she’s young and emotionally vulnerable. I might be calculating and remote, but ruining a girl like her isn’t necessary––even if crushing her fighting spirit is a thousand times hotter than screwing the flight attendant.
So, I keep the emotional shutters in place just like Papá had forced me to do back when I was younger than she is now, and get the fuck off her before my self-discipline goes to shit.
The father I’d hated all my life taught me many grueling lessons, but nothing could have prepared me for the temptation that is the teenage India Hardy.
Once I’m standing over her, she jumps to her bare feet and yanks the triangles back in place to hide her hardened nipples. Unfortunately for me, they still strain against the material like bullets shooting up my willpower.
Scowling at me, she comes across as sweet and salty, alluring yet full of mischief. Like a riddle I need to understand.
Nevertheless, I run a hand down my face and look away, acting detached to conceal the animalistic urges running riot in my bloodstream. She has no idea how close I am to shoving my aching dick down her throat.
“The fact you won doesn’t change anything.” She huffs, scraping blonde hair behind her ears, exposing the delicate lobes with small golden hoops.
Still glaring at me, she wraps her arms across her midriff, completely oblivious to how the movement amplifies the position of her tits.
Her tanned complexion is rosy now, giving her an ethereal glow. She’s a curse; a broken soul packaged in a woman’s body that’s designed for fucking and one hundred percent out of bounds.
“I’m still not going with you, Gio. Daenis and I will stay on the island for now. I’ll call Dré and clear it with him. We’ll take a chopper to Miami in a few days. Some of the guards can escort me. They’ll stay with me in my apartment.”
