Page 58 of Deep (Chicago Underground 8)
The next thrust came in a different angle, hitting a place inside me that had me crying out. A gush of wetness heated his cock, a drop sliding down my leg.
“Then you were in danger again, your fuckhead of a father putting you both in danger. Your brother gone. You would have been next. And I thought, good fucking riddance.”
His hands tightened—one on my hip and one in my hair. It was the only warning I had before he slammed into me, his cock a blunt weapon against that tender place inside me—I sobbed his name. “Philip, wait. Wait. It’s too much.”
“Except that’s a lie,” he continued in a low voice. “I didn’t want to care, but I went straight there anyway. Got fucked up on the way—and that’s what I should be focused on. Who the fuck would send someone to jump me? If I’d been thinking straight, I could’ve kept him alive, forced him to talk.” He was angry now, furious. “But I was too fucking worried about you, so I snapped his neck and showed up at your door.”
Oh God. He’d killed someone that night, because of me. I’d known it, but it was different now that his hands were on my bare flesh, hands that had killed. Hands that had defended me in the most ancient, undeniable way. I shivered.
“That’s right,” he said, almost approving. His cock pulled all the way out, just the tip notched inside me, before slamming back in. I cried out again, and another gush of wetness coated his cock. “That’s who you’re letting inside your body. That’s who’s going to come inside you.”
Not that. This was risky enough, but if he came inside me… “Wait.”
I pulled uselessly at the muscled arms holding me in place, but my hands slipped on his sweaty skin. I couldn’t move him, couldn’t stop him.
“Let me down,” I begged. “I’ll take you in my mouth. I’ll suck you.”
“No,” he said, clenching tighter. “This. I’m going to pour my seed into you, and then I’m going to drape you over that fucking couch so it gets to the right place. And when your belly is round with my child, you won’t ever think about leaving me again.”
Even as my sex tightened, my heart chilled. Oh God. He was insane. And cold as ice. I knew it, I should have known it, but I couldn’t have imagined this. I couldn’t have imagined he would even want this, but here he was, holding me still while he pumped faster, the jerky movements signaling his impending climax.
I pulled away, a last-second bid for freedom—and only got as far as the sofa, cushions under my knees, hands grasping the back ridge of the sofa. He followed me down, legs between mine, pumping up into me with more leverage and force than before.
My whole body strained forward, only to be slammed back against him.
“Take it,” he muttered harshly.
“You’re not thinking straight,” I cried. “You can’t—”
“I thought too fucking much about you. I’m done thinking.”
His body stiffened, and he made a choked sound. His cock flexed. Then a spurt of hot come hit the soft place inside me, and my mouth opened on a cry of betrayal. No.
It was too late. The climax rolled over me, triggered by the very thing I didn’t want. Pleasure turned my vision to black, and I sobbed my denial and gratitude all at once. My sex clenched around his cock as the waves of orgasm ran through my body, and he grunted in masculine appreciation.
Spasms racked me as I came down from the high. My hands were clenched tight on the back of the sofa, my breasts pressed against the silky fabric. I panted, my mind dazed.
“That’s right,” he said, his voice languid, thick with lingering orgasm. He slid a hand down my stomach to where his body was still joined to mine. Callused fingers slid through slick, sensitive skin. I jerked at the touch.
He circled my clit with lazy motions. That was all it took. A few turns of his fingers and I was rocking against him, mindless, on the edge again.
“That’s right,” he said again. “You feel my come. I know you do. Keep it inside you, kitten. This will help.”
No. It was so wrong, but maybe I was wrong, because his words pushed me over the edge. I came again, this one tight and hard, rocking against his hand as I rode out the razor’s edge climax—that climax that would keep his come inside me. My inner walls clenched, and I imagined his seed traveling deep, rooting there.
A mewling sound filled the air, and I realized it was me.
I shook my ahead against the illicit desire in my gut. Tears tracked down my cheeks.
“I told you I’d pay the ransom,” he said. “But we do it my way. Understand? You follow orders, kitten. Just like you do when I’m fucking you.”
I shivered at the force in his voice, the sensual threat. “Yes.”
Eventually he took me to his bedroom, where heavy curtains blocked out the daylight. We slept to make up for the night we had lost and to prepare for the trials to come. I didn’t know how many times he took me, hands moving me, arranging my body to accept his.
He didn’t even wake me. Instead he slid rough fingers between folds already wet and brought me to orgasm in my sleep. I hovered in the space between dreams and darkness, pleasure and pain.
Chapter Twenty-Six
