Page 97 of His Bride

Her body is frozen in surprise, and then she's melting against me, her arms winding around my neck as she gives as good as she gets. I tug her even closer, feeling the curve of her spine against my palm that glides over her firm ass, and I squeeze, rolling my hips, grinding my cock into her.

I’m a selfish prick. This woman’s been through hell. She killed a man, and she’s covered in his blood. But I’m possessed with a need to claim her. Maybe it’s the relief and the elation of all this finally being over. Or maybe it’s the murder and mayhem.

Who the fuck am I kidding? It’s the murder and mayhem.

I break the kiss, sliding my tongue down her throat as she cranes backward. “New York?”

“Caelian?” she whimpers, her fingers now entangled in my hair.

I take her chin between my fingers and force her to look at me. “Black or white?”

Blue irises ignite. “White.”

I smile and kiss her lightly. “Run.”

There isn’t a single second of hesitation as she whips around and darts toward the trees—my beautiful creature who loves the hunt as much as I do.

I close my eyes, keeping a vague count in my head as she races off. I’m already thinking about her pussy squeezing, fluttering, milking me for cum.

As I get to ten, I inhale deep. The night air’s perfumed with one of those night-blooming flowers, the scent rich and evocative and almost as good as the perfume of Giana. Her skin, her hair, her cunt, that heady fucking mix guaranteed to make a man rock hard when he’s within range of her.

The moon’s high and mostly full. I know in which direction she went, but the beauty and trickiness of this estate is, it’s huge. But huge can be scary when you’re wearing a dress that’s hardly covering the goods. No panties. No bra. And…I stop.

There on the ground are her shoes. She took them off.

I crouch, pick them up, and stare out before me. If I was a hot as fuck, ass-swaying, tits-jiggling, pert and tight in all the right places brunette, where would I run?

I scan the area, gaze on the trees and bushes, the shadows. Nothing moves, and I don’t feel her nearby, not that telltale prickling on the skin, that surge of heat or the erratic drum of my heart. She’s gone deep, sticking, I’m betting, to the middle, not the wall. The middle is a place that offers some kind of coverage.

Giana’s not going to go too far. She’ll want to track back, maybe sneak into the house while I search for her out here. God, she’s a clever little prey.

Something crunches, and my head whips to the right. I drop the shoes and stand, staring out.

There. Up ahead, a flash of white skin. I grin.

My cock gets harder, the ache there driving upward, along with the need to claim, to find release, to mark her as mine. I know this isn’t a magic fix for everything that’s happened, but it’s a moment, a breather.

I move faster, weaving in and out among the trees, stopping myself from running because I need to track, to heighten this. Giana wants to be caught. She also wants to evade. Just a mash-up of contradictions, that one.

In fact, I’d be disappointed if a part of her didn’t want to be the prey that brought down the predator. Disappointed if she didn’t want to hunt me right back.

She’s the hottest, most annoying, perfect woman I’ve met. She’s the whole package. Perfectly imperfect. Designed for me.

Another flash of skin. This time, I can track her as she runs, the adrenaline pulsing hard, euphoria licking up my spine. Part of me wanted to make this slow, but I’m thinking more catch and release. Fuck and release until I take her down for good.

“I’m coming for you, and I’m going to play with you before I eat you out.”

I walk slowly, scanning, and there. Up ahead, darting behind a thick oak, I see her. I run.

She tries to get away, but I’m faster and tackle her to the ground, then haul her up, hand in her hair, and with one swift motion I tear through the straps of her dress, and it falls from her bodyas she fights me, kicking, twisting, until I turn her and crash my mouth to hers.

I expect her to try to bite and use the kiss as an advantage to escape, but a thrill races through me as she pushes into me, her mouth hungry, hands in my hair pulling.

Turning us, I walk into the moonlight, and she’s tied about me, legs at my waist, her hot pussy rubbing on my throbbing cock, her mouth now on my throat, sucking, licking, biting. She’s pure fire. Desire personified.

New York bites hard, right on my jugular, and I grunt, sliding a hand down to rub her pussy, but she pushes her pelvis, her cunt against me like she’s trying to get off on my belt.

Fuck, I need her mouth on me. I need to be in her. It’s a fever in my blood, a need to take and claim and be claimed.

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