Page 83 of Hunting Pretty

The memory made me stumble in the Dublin library, disorientated.

I knew him. He knew me. We knew each other as kids.

He used to chase me through a garden.

His hand caught my wrist as I ran past a corner and the strength of his grip made me lose my breath.

He wrenched me back into the shadows and he slammedme against the shelves and crushed me with the full weight of his body against mine.

The throbbing length of his erection became all I could think about.

I might secretly like it when he chased me.

But he liked hunting me.

I struggled, trying to break free.

But he ensnared my other wrist, hoisted both of my arms over my head, and pinned me against the shelving.

My button-down shirt came untucked from my plaid skirt and I felt exposed from just those couple inches near my belly button.

“What,” he growled into my face, “did I say about you continuing to investigate?”

I flushed. “Why do you want me to stop—”

He tore my shirt and I let out a yelp.

Pearl buttons scattered across the marble floors and cold air hit my chest. I wasn’t sure if I flushed more from shame or arousal.

“Stubborn doll.” He yanked down my bra and sucked a hard nipple into his mouth.

I threw my head back in pain, in pleasure, and my head collided with the book spines. He released me with a wet pop.

My stupid body swirled with reliefanddisappointment.

“Let me go,” I begged, not really believing myself as I arched my breasts toward him.

Inside me, self-hatred warred with my hatred of him.

I baited him. I knew what I was doing when I texted him back, goading him.

I was too fucked up. Too stupid. Too addicted towhatever sick thrill he gave me, unable to stop myself from practically begging for more.

He glared at me. “You obviously didn’t learn your fucking lesson the other night.” He moved his free hand to his black pants, unbuttoning, unzipping, and pushing them down to his muscular thighs. “Or maybe you like it when I punish you.”

Looking down between my naked breasts, his teeth marks red on one nipple, I shuddered at the sight of him, fear and desire sending flashes of fire and ice through me like a deadly fever.

He was huge.

Not just big, but monstrous. Heavy, thickly veined, its head glistening in the shafts of moonlight that slipped through the shelves behind him. The muscles of his thighs quivered in anticipation and for the first time I saw the cock for what it truly was: a violent weapon.

With a desperate whine, I bucked against his iron grip, his left hand still holding my wrists above my head. I might as well be tied up.

But I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of the cock between his legs or that I’d end up begging for it.

When I met his eyes again, they were black pits. He kicked out my legs, placing his feet between them so I couldn’t close them even if I wanted to.

He slipped his hand under my skirt and ran his fingers between my legs and over my panties.

---