Page 130 of Hunting Pretty

With a filthy groan, I locked my ankles around my stalker’s hips as he fucked me.

What the fuck was wrong with me that Ilikedit? That I liked his insane possessiveness, his psychotic protection?

The deeper he drove his dick, the harder I pulled. Our mouths parted equally in pain and we gasped against one another.

I was out of my mind with the sensation of him inside of me.

I didn’t care that Pierre’s lifeless form was right there on the path beside us, his blood puddling around his ankles.

I didn’t care that his blood splattered all over his face, soaked his hoodie, smearing across my breasts as he grabbed them and punished my nipple with a cruel twist.

This was punishment. Rage that I’d done something stupid that almost got me killed.

I almost died, and instead of recoiling from that, I wanted to chase the feeling. Be reckless. Feel everything to the extreme.

Like I needed to touch the edge again just to remind myself I was alive.

My hips bucked up toward him as he punished my pussy harder and harder.

He’d killed forme.

Pierre’s blood was on my hands, the very same hands I had twisted in my stalker’s hair as I pulled him even closer to me.

“You make me so fucking crazy,” he gasped against the sweat-filled hollow of my throat.

“I know,” I said, clawing my nails savagely down his back.

My head banged back against the stone of the tomb as he drove even deeper into me.

He fucked me to hurt me and God, I wanted to be hurt. I wanted to feel everything.

The adrenaline still pulsed through my veins, sharp and electric. I could feel it, buzzing under my skin.

I wanted more. More of the rush, more of the danger. My body craved the thrill, and it terrified me.

After all the chaos, the fear, the almost dying—I wanted to push it further.

It scared me, this urge to seek danger. To play with fire again and again.

But the other part of me—the one that still clung to survival—whispered,How far can you go before you go too far?

“Why?” he demanded on a choke, fisting my hair in his hand, forcing me to stare right into his tortured burning eyes. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

My body was so full of pleasure and pain that at first the words were little more than a movement of my bloody lips.

His cock was tearing me apart.

My pussy juices were dripping down the edge of the tomb like blood.

“I did for you, asshole,” I said, biting at his jaw as he snarled at me.

“Liar,” he growled.

Clinging on to my stalker’s shoulders, I answered half in a sob, half in moan, “I wanted you to come for me.”

I could tell by the erratic rhythm of his thrusts that he was close. And I knew by the heat swelling in my belly that I was, too.

“I wanted you to show yourself,” I moaned. “I wantyou. Needyou.”

---