Page 77 of That's Too Pucking Bad

Zane’s name barely leaves my lips before he takes control again. His hands find my thighs, gripping them as if I might try to run, even though escape is the furthest thing from my mind. His strength is intoxicating, his dominance overwhelming. He kneels over me, his dark eyes behind the mask glinting with feral need, the moonlight casting jagged shadows across his face.

His fingers slide down the curve of my leg, finding the torn edge of my stockings. The rip he made earlier wasn’t enough to satisfy him. He fists the fabric, the sound of it shredding filling the quiet night as he pulls it apart. Cool air hits my skin, and I gasp, the contrast to the heat of his touch making my body arch beneath him.

“You like that?” he growls, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shockwave through me. “You like when I ruin something to get to you?”

“Yes,” I whisper, my breath hitching as his fingers trail higher. There’s no hesitation in him, no softness. I want him exactly like this— wild, untamed, and completely out of control.

His mouth crashes into mine, silencing whatever else I might say. The kiss is punishing, devouring, leaving no partof me untouched. His teeth catch my bottom lip, tugging hard enough to sting, and a moan escapes me before I can stop it. He pulls back just enough to smirk.

“There’s my little slut,” he murmurs, his tone dark and possessive, the nickname sending a rush of heat straight through me. “You can’t hide from me, Remy. Not when this is exactly what you’ve been begging for.”

He leans back, his hands working their way to my hips. I feel his fingers hook under the waistband of my panties, and I barely have time to register the motion before he tears them clean off. The sound of the fabric ripping makes my heart pound harder.

“You won’t be needing these,” he says, tossing the scraps aside. His hand trails over the newly exposed skin, his touch rough, claiming. “You’re mine now. Do you hear me? Mine.”

“Yours,” I gasp, the word spilling from me without thought, because it’s true. I can fight it all I want, but in this moment, he owns me completely.

His lips are on me again, but this time, they trail down my neck, his teeth scraping against my skin as he goes. I cry out when he bites down, his mark searing into me, and it feels like a brand— a warning to anyone else that I belong to him. The sting fades into heat, and my body arches toward him, desperate for more.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growls, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise as he positions himself between my legs. “You’ve been driving me insane for weeks, running from this, pretending you don’t want it. But I knew. I always knew.”

His words crash over me, but I can’t respond— not when he presses against me, his length hot and unyielding. My nails dig into his shoulders, my breath catching as he pushes inside, inch by agonizing inch. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and I can’t stop the whimper that escapes me.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head dropping to my shoulder.

His dick slowly presses into me, filling me completely.

I moan, holding onto him.

“You’re so goddamn tight. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” I breathe, my voice trembling as I adjust to the stretch, the burn turning into something else entirely. “Only for you.”

“Fuck yeah,” he says, pulling back just enough to slam into me again, harder this time. The force of it sends me sliding against the cool earth, his body pressing mine into the ground. He doesn’t give me time to recover, his pace brutal, unrelenting, as if he’s trying to erase any doubt, any hesitation I might have left.

My nails drag down his back, desperate for something to hold onto as he takes me apart. His hands grip my thighs, pulling them higher around his waist, giving him even deeper access. I cry out, his name a broken plea on my lips, but he doesn’t slow down. If anything, he goes harder, his hips driving into me with a force that leaves me breathless.

“You’re mine,” he growls again, his teeth sinking into my shoulder, marking me in a way that feels primal, feral. “Say it, Remy. Say you’re only mine.”

“I’m only yours, Zane,” I gasp, the words ripped from me as pleasure builds, sharp and overwhelming. “All yours.”

He lifts his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine, and there’s something almost dangerous in his gaze.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his hand sliding between us to find the place where our bodies are joined. His fingers press against me, and I cry out again, my body clenching around him as the pressure builds to a breaking point.

“Come for me,” he demands, his voice low and rough, and it’s not a request— it’s an order. My body obeys before my mind can catch up, pleasure crashing over me in waves so intense, I can’t do anything but hold onto him and ride it out.

Zane doesn’t stop. He grips my hips, holding me steady as he chases his own release, his movements growing erratic. When he finally lets go, his body stills, his breath hot and uneven against my skin.

For a moment, neither of us moves, the only sound the quiet lapping of the lake and our ragged breathing. His weight presses into me, grounding me, and I realize I don’t mind. In fact, I need it— need him.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, his voice softer but no less possessive. “No more running. Understand?”

I nod, my fingers tracing the edge of his mask, the reality of everything settling in. “No more running,” I whisper, and for the first time, I mean it.

The night air is still as Zane tugs my hand, leading me toward his car. I’m all too aware of the stickiness on my thighs, the way my dress clings to me, and the ridiculous grin on my faceI can’t seem to wipe off. He’s quiet, but there’s this tension in the way he moves, like he’s keeping a leash on himself.

When we reach the car, he stops, looks down at me, and murmurs, “Stay here.”

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