Page 70 of Hunted Obsession

Pulling out of her, I paint her wet lips with the tip of my cock before I slip down her throat again, inch by inch. She spreads her thighs, breathing out of her nose, and finally relaxes her body—taking me inside of her.

On my third downstroke, tears stream down her face. I’m sure I should stop, maybe pick her up and fuck her against the shower wall, but I need this. Gripping her hair tighter with my fingers, I hold her still as I fuck her mouth.

And that is what I do.

I fuck her mouth.

My other hand, I wrap around the front of her throat so I can feel her neck bulge out from my cock sliding in and out of her mouth. Fuck me, but it’s goddamn gorgeous. It’s out-of-this-fucking-world amazing.

Stroke after stroke, I feel my control returning to me. And when I’m close to coming down her throat, I pull out of her. Lucille pants, no doubt catching her breath because I haven’t given her much time for that.

“Please,” she whimpers. “Let me swallow you.”

Shaking my head, I reach down to the backs of her thighs and carefully pick her up off the wet floor. Then I grip them tightly as I lift her so her back is against the warm wall and her legs are wrapped around my waist.

Slowly, I sink inside of her pussy, feeling her warmth wrap around me. My eyes connect to hers, focus on hers, and I fuck her. It’s not hard and fast the way my body is screaming for. It’s the exact opposite of the way I just fucked her mouth.

It’s slow.

Soft.

And all for her.

Rolling my hips, I grind my pelvis against her clit with each downstroke. She gasps every fucking time I do that, and it fills me with a sense of prideful accomplishment. I need this moment to build back up from my loss of control.

Her nails dig into the flesh of my shoulders, and I can feel her pussy clench and pulse around me. I know she’s close, so fucking ready to explode, and I want it—crave it. This fucking shit that’s been going on is too much, and it’s finally accumulating.

Lucille cries out, her cunt clamping down so goddamn tightly that my orgasm is wrenched from my body without a fucking second of warning. Filling her with my cum, I bury myself deep and stare into her eyes.

Her mouth is open, but no sound is coming out, her body trembling in my arms.

Fucking amazing in every goddamn way possible.

“You’re mine,” I growl.

“Always,” Lucille whispers.

I’m not sure what the hell comes over me, but I decide to make it clear that she doesn’t have a choice in the matter. She is mine. Bought and goddamn paid for.

“No, sweetheart,” I rasp. “You are fuckingmine. There is no out. There is no walking away. You’re mine until your last fucking breath.”

She also can’t leave me, not just because I paid for her, but because she knows way too much now. She’s seen too much now, too. Shifting forward, I touch my lips to hers. “Until you’re last goddamn breath. Just know, there is no leaving me. Not fucking ever… at least not alive.”

Chapter Thirty-One

LUCILLE

Theron’s wordsshould terrify me, especially since I know that when he says not alive, he means it.

Once our shower is finished and we’ve dried off and put on some clothes, I’m not sure what to do. I want to ask him a million questions. I want to talk about Emmie and Charlie and the fact that he just blew their brains out. I also want to have a serious discussion about his childhood, what exactly happened, and how he got out of it. But I’m scared to death about everything.

These are secrets he’s kept for a whole lifetime. It’s not a secret like us screwing a few times while he was supposedly dating Emmie. Although I knew there was something not right with her from day one, they were together, and our being together was wrong… no matter how right it felt at the time.

But I knew that there was something with them, with Emmie specifically, that was off. She was appeasing in a way that no rational person would be. Not to mention the way she was manipulating Theron at every move… I’m not sure I’m muchbetter, though. I definitely stalked and manipulated my situation for my benefit.

Theron has his back to me, wearing nothing except a pair of boxer briefs. He doesn’t have any clothes here, and all I have are a couple of T-shirts and leggings that appeared the other day. My eyes scan every contour of his back; it’s sexy as fuck. Just like him.

“What are you thinking?” he demands, his voice rough.

---