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He had my hands tied. He was covering me with his chiseled body. And each time I strained to slip free, it resulted in humping back against him and making me want him more.
“Can you?” he asked. Kissing along my neck as he pushed me down, he teased my skin that felt too hot and too sensitive. Just knowing he was looking at me turned me on faster. Arousal dripped from me, sticking to my thighs, and I closed my eyes at the shame that I could be lusting for him.
For my kidnapper. For this killer. The Mafia boss who’d taken me.
“Can you be a good girl for me, Sloane?” He growled it in that smoky timbre, and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. “Be my good girl and give me an heir.”
Every time he said it, I mentally winced.
He didn’t need to work on that part.
He’d already knocked me up.
And that was why my brain short-circuited. The second I realized that he wanted a baby from me, I struggled with the irony that he already had accomplished that. And on the heels of that thought, I regretted that it was a secret I had to bear.
I should’ve already told him. Maybe instead of being stubborn and sullen, I could’ve told him that news as a means of leverage over him.
But it was too late.
Now, he was using his knee to spread my legs open. Each time I opened my mouth to speak, he leaned down to kiss me, forcing me to crane my neck awkwardly so our lips could mesh together.
Breathing hard through the intensity of his body on mine, I couldn’t think straight, let alone string a sentence together for him to hear me.
While it was instinct to protest, and in my head I was clear that this wasn’t right, my body had other ideas.
“So wet and ready for me, huh?” He wedged his hand beneath me, diving his fingers lower and lower until he could stroke over my slippery slit. “You’re a good girl, Sloane. Nice and wet.” He smeared my cream up toward my clit, rubbing that sensitive and needy bundle of nerves with his thumb. All the while, he didn’t let up with dragging his dick back and forth over my ass.
“I—”
He growled as he leaned down over me, kissing me harder. The touch of his tongue alongside mine revved me up more, and with my arms aching at how he had me bound, I felt a tear drip from the corner of my eye.
After nothing, not talking and hardly seeing him, this was an intense whiplash to absorb.
But he wasn’t ready to let up.
He was prepared to take it further.
“Be a good girl and take my dick,” he said, his whisper hot against my ear as he lined up the wide head of his penis at my entrance. The bump of him against my pussy had me ready to beg for him to fill me. It was naughty. It was taboo and wrong and it had to be downright sinful to want him to fuck me, but I couldn’t help it. He unlocked this primal need, and I arched my back to urge him to get inside.
“You want this cock?” He lined up to jam his cockhead in, making me moan at the beginning of the stretch.
“You want this dick in you?” In one hard, fast thrust, he rammed into me.
Choking on my inhale, I tried to acclimate to the rough feeling of him filling me so quickly. I was stuffed. He was in so deep, and with his girth, I swore I’d be split and ripped into two.
“You’re going to be my good girl and take this dick,” he said as he pulled out and thrust right back in, all the way with so much force that my breasts dragged into the blanket. He’d punched the air out of me, but I didn’t care.
I had to have him. He couldn’t stop now. If he dared to joke that I’d fallen for his bluff, I’d never forgive him.
“You’re going to take this cock and milk me dry, Sloane.” His words weren’t as smooth anymore with his ragged, choppy breaths. “Because that’s why. That’s why you’re here. I’m going to fuck this pussy until you are carrying my heir.”
“I—” I didn’t finish telling him that I already was. He sped up, pounding into me as he rubbed my clit with an intense pressure. Robbing me of my breath, he did just want he claimed he would.
He fucked me.
Hard.
He filled me over and over.