Page 28 of Filthy Devil

Every way possible.

All at one time.

It’s fucking wild to me. It’s not like I’ve ever been sex deprived a day in my adult life, and yet I’m acting like I’m about to nut inside a woman for the first time. Wrapping my hands around the backs of her thighs, I pull her knees out from beneath her and lay her down on the bed.

When I guide my dick toward her center, she gasps, sucking in a breath and holding it for a moment. Then, as I sink inside ofher, watching as her eyes slide closed, she lets out a heavy sigh that ends with a groan.

Clutching her hips, my fingers dig into her flesh, gripping her tightly as I bury myself deep inside of her. She gasps, and my own breath hitches. She feels amazing.

Dipping my chin slightly, I find her eyes.

They’re wide as she looks up at me. I stay still, allowing her body to accept my intrusion. When she lifts her legs, she doesn’t wrap them around my waist. Instead, she presses her shins against each side of my ribs. I slip a little deeper inside of her, and the move causes both of us to groan.

Shifting one of my hands from her hip, I cup her cheek, sliding my thumb across her bottom lip. “I’m going to fuck you, sweetheart. And you’re going to come again.”

Without giving her even a moment to think about that, to say anything at all, I shift my hand from her cheek to the front of her throat. Wrapping my fingers around the front of her slim neck, I hold her firmly, and I do just what I set out to do.

I fuck her.

And I don’t stop until she lets out a scream. Then her pussy clamps around my dick, squeezing me, milking me, fucking owning me.

Just like her.

Owning every part of me.

She doesn’t have to try and manipulate me. There’s no reason for it. She owned me the second those big doe eyes found mine in that goddamn trafficking trailer. She was on her way to slaughter. Little did she know she was going from one butcher to another.

She is mine now.

I'm not sure whether either of us is ready to accept that, but that doesn’t make it less true.

James Bishop belongs to me.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

JAMES

Something has changed.There has been a shift, and I’m not sure what it is, but I also don’t think I am ready to question it either. I am enjoying this, all of it. Especially the orgasms, but also the idea of belonging—even if I don’t know what that entails.

Nash wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his side, and I let out a sigh. Cuddling with this man seems like such an oxymoron mainly because if you saw him walking down the street, you would never imagine he would cuddle for even one second, yet here he is, holding me tightly against his side.

Lifting my head, I rest my chin on his chest as I look up at him. His fingertips are drawing lazy circles against my hip. His chin tips down slightly, his eyes find mine, and he smiles softly.

God

I get to see him like this. I know I’m probably not the first woman to see this man this way, but it feels special, nonetheless. “Tell me something about your life,” I chance asking.

He doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, his hand shifts from my hip and slowly slides up my side, then tangles in my hair. My breath hitches when he tugs my head back. His face is still soft and sweet, his eyes searching mine.

“There is nothing you want to know about me, sweetheart.”

Smiling, I shake my head. “Now you know that’s not true, Nash.”

He snorts but doesn’t answer me. Instead, he releases his grasp on my hair and combs his fingers through the strands before he clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice sounds rough and sexy, and I find myself clenching my thighs together and wondering if we could go again, even though I’m sore as hell.

“I have a son. He’s an adult, but I wasn’t there for him when I should have been.”

---