Page 81 of Striker

Cora nods, but she doesn’t understand. I need to come. To completely unravel. To shatter until I’m no longer me. I guide her hand between my thighs, and she slips a finger inside as she devours me with a fierce kiss. But it’s still not enough. I need more. I need them.

“Please,” I choke out and she leans back, breaking our kiss, brushing hair away from my face.

“I have you,” she whispers, laying me back on the floor as she pushes up my dress. Feeling raw and exposed, I spread my legs greedily for her, hiking the fabric higher as she thrusts two, then three fingers into me. Tilting my hips to meet her hand, I fist her hair as she leans over to kiss me. When she moves lower and pulls the torn material away from my breast, I cry out at the sting of pain as she takes a nipple between her teeth.

“Fuck,” I grit out, writhing under her. “Cora.” They brought me to the edge so many times, nothing but violence will satisfy this carnal desire. Only savagery will feed this feral woman within me.

“I know,” she whispers, moving even lower, lightly kissing down my belly to between my thighs. She’s being too gentle to do me any good, but when her lips press against my clit, she does it hard. Then she sucks me roughly into her mouth and I scream out in pleasure, gripping her hair as I watch her suck me into her pretty mouth. She looks up at me through long lashes, smiling as she sucks again. And again. When she swirls her tongue against my clit, the world explodes violently, my scream cutting throughthe room. I fall back onto the floor, heart hammering as my orgasm subsides.

“Jesus,” she says, slowing her thrusting hand. When my breathing returns to normal and my mind works again, I sit up on my elbows and look at her. Her brows knit at whatever she sees in my face. “What happened?”

I’m ruined. The men who kidnapped us have manipulated my emotions, making me care if they get hurt. We’re trapped here, in this old mansion in the middle of nowhere, cut off from reality.

“I don’t think we’re going home,” I finally say, but I don’t know what to make of her smile.

Chapter 32

Striker

Itake the stairstwo at a time, my cock so hard I can barely think straight. Viper and Breaker left after we delivered Princess to Cora and Reaper left the house to go only god knows where. Now, I’m alone with my thoughts.

When I reach my room, I crash through the door, slamming it too hard. Leaning against the frame, I attempt to collect my thoughts, but they’re scattered, tossing loosely around in my skull. I grip my fucking mask and rip it off, flinging it across the room.

Now that they know we’re living above them, I don’t care about being quiet. I push from the door, raking my hands through my hair, then sit at the end of my bed. My eyes fall to the wolf figure.

Seeing her hold it. That little piece I have left of him. It sent rage through me. Black as night. Like Rune was in here himself, delicately fondling with corrupt fingers the only shred I have left of him.

She’s not Rune.

The thought flashes through me, and I groan, standing up to pace the room, clenching my jaw, remembering her red ass and her delicate groans.

Princess is lucky I have such control and didn’t unless my darkness like I wanted to, so she would feel that burning pain we all felt that day. She’s lucky I reined it back in. That before I removed my belt and struck her bare ass, I’d coiled my shadows back tightly, just as I tightly as I wrapped the leather around my hand so they only leaked out like whispers instead black waves that drowned her.

But I should have known better. The night in the woods taught us all. She’s desperate to be free of her lifelong restraints. She’s so receptive to the darkness that lives inside me, in all of us, that it breaks free around her and I find myself wanting to stain her with it.

Delilah is our payback after all.

But she fucking eats up everything we give her, drinking in every sip of darkness that lives within us, and feeds it back to us until we’re the ones starved for more.

She may not be Gavin, but she wasn’t supposed to be…

This fucking enticing. This fucking receptive.

This much of a fuckingproblem.

When we decided to make her ours, to make her turn against her father, we never thought that we’d actually feel something for her. She was supposed to be a tool. Something we used to pry him open until he bled all over. We were meant to manipulate her submission, her desire, her entire body, until we owned her. Controlled her. Until she willingly helped us, but now she’s snuck into my that empty space in my chest and every time I touch her I want more, more, more.

My fist slams into the wall, all this pent up energy turning into aggression. I need to get off.

I stalk to the bathroom and turn the shower on, then strip my shirt and pants. When I’m undressed, I grip my cock in a tight fist. Bringing my hand to my nose, I inhale her sweet scent. I can still smell her hot cunt. Taste her in my mouth.

Fuck.

We intended to punish her, but I think we only succeeded in punishing ourselves. My dick’s so hard it hurts.

I grip my length and tug roughly. Not the way she would. Not delicate but hard, with a dry hand. My hips jerk at the punishing grasp. I stroke again, faster, harder. Like Breaker when he grips Viper’s cock. I reach around and grab my ass, the way Viper does when Breaker buries his cock deep in his mouth.

“Need some help?”

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