Page 16 of Taunting Tarran (Wild at Heart #1)

THE PUNISHER

Sal has arranged our flights set for a couple of days from now, leaving me with some time to kill. What better way to spend it than by tormenting Tarran? It feels like the perfect distraction, knowing that once I step onto that plane, our fleeting little interlude will be put on pause.

It’s not hard to hide in Tarran’s house, especially as she doesn’t bother checking to see if I’m there.

It’s almost like she’s inviting me in. Since our encounter, she’s never paused to scan for intruders.

She tosses her keys on to the table, kicks off her shoes, and heads straight for her room without a second thought.

She’s even leaving the curtains open so I can watch her outside from the shadows.

Are you teasing me, Tarran?

When the light dies, I move. The house is quiet.

I tread carefully, each step avoiding the groan of the floorboards beneath me.

My boots came off at the threshold, left behind like a discarded second skin.

In her bedroom, I stand there, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the sound pulling at something deep and primal within me.

Strands of her hair spill across her pillow, a golden cascade catching the faintest sliver of moonlight.

She’s so still, so unaware of my presence.

And I – rooted beside her bed. She looks otherworldly, innocent and pure.

I lean towards her face, her soft breath fanning the side of my cheek as my hand pulls back her sheets. Her t-shirt doing little to cover her body, her nipples reacting to the fresh air.

Fuck.

My whole body shakes, my cock strains to be set free from its confines.

And I know I shouldn’t, it’s not what I came here for, but my hand slips in to my waistband, twisting the trouser button free.

I yank out my cock, positioning it mere inches from her face, her warm breath blowing onto the sensitive tip.

‘Oh, fuck.’ I groan, before heading towards the bathroom.

There, I grab a top from the laundry basket, inhaling deeply as I pump back and forth, shooting my load into the fabric, biting my fisted hand to muffle my moans.

This isn’t my finest moment.

I clean myself up, splashing water onto my face, wondering what the fuck possessed me to do what I just did. I plan to fuck her, but I guess the enjoyment of the tease works both ways. When I do claim her body, I’ll fuck her day and night until she forgets her own name, but I’m not a pig.

‘You’re mine,’ I tell her as I throw the top back into the basket.

A whimper slips out of her mouth as I walk back in her room, and she rolls onto her side.

My finger follows the contours of her bottom, and I’m tempted to pull her legs apart and dive balls deep into her sweet pussy.

Though, that would be too easy, and I’m nowhere nearly done with her yet.

I haven’t even started, because, like wolves drawn to the mournful cries of a wounded animal, I shall follow her, driven by my unquenchable hunger.

Even though I have the power to take what I desire, I don’t want to take her just because I can. It’s one thing for her to fear me because of who I am, it’s another for her to fear me for whom she thinks I might be.

I gently pull the covers back over her, tucking them around her to keep her warm.

My gaze lingers for a moment before I turn away, slipping silently from the room.

There’s no time for hesitation. The flight looms ahead, and with it, the trip I’ve been dreading for far too long, because this weekend it’s the 50 th Anniversary.