Page 50 of Protecting Lanie

“You stay like this—down in front with your ass and pussy presented to me and where I can reach your tits. You’re mine, little one,” he murmured against her ear, his voice rough, possessive. “Say it.”

Lanie’s breath stuttered as she nodded, saying, “I’m yours.”

Archer growled his approval. Then, with a single deep, slow thrust, he entered her. He drew back and then thrust in harder, more powerfully, possessively, filling her completely. It felt so good to be taken like this—hard and sure, rough and demanding—especially after all that had happened. He was making the point that he wasn’t happy about what she’d done, but he was also showing her he knew she wasn’t some fragile, delicate thing that would break easily.

His hips pounded against her ass, he fisted her hair and angling her head back so he could take her mouth. Their tongues danced together in a passionate kiss. His free hand squeezed one of her tits—first the whole thing and then the nipple, making her gasp. His fingers traced circles around nipples, sending shivers of delight through her entire body.

When he pulled out, she cried out in protest and received a sharp smack on her behind—the sting a welcome pain that gave away to pleasure as he rubbed it before spreading her labia and shoving his cock back in her wet pussy. He pulled out, teasing her, running the head from her clit downwards and back.

She moaned as he slammed back into her, the sudden jolt of pain from him hitting that spot making way for a wave of pleasure as he filled her up once more. She let out a long sigh, her breasts pressing against the soft mattress as his hands roamed over her body, tweaking and pinching her nipples. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as their pace sped up faster and harder each time. It felt like he was claiming her, marking her as his own, and it drove Lanie wild with need.

His fingers traced circular patterns on her belly, leaving goosebumps in their wake as she arched her back to take him deeper. His fingers found her clit and circled it before pinching down, causing her to jolt. His low groan, as he held her hips and pounded into her from behind, sent shivers down her spine,making her shudder with the anticipation of what was to come. As he whispered words of encouragement, telling her how wet she was, how tight, how much he loved hearing her beg for more, Lanie lost herself in the moment.

His hips pumped against her ass, taking her so close before pulling back. It felt amazing to be taken so roughly yet so tenderly at the same time; a contradiction that made perfect sense under his skilled touch.

Finally, he couldn’t hold back anymore and shoved himself deep, saying, “You can come now, little one.”

At Archer’s words, Lanie’s body shattered into a million pieces and she called his name as her orgasm rocked through her, her pussy clenching around him like a vice grip as he found his own release deep inside her.

He’d claimed her. They both knew it. Every roll of his hips, every whispered command, every shuddering cry that left her lips had sealed the deal. It had been everything—everything she’d been afraid of; everything she’d wanted; and most importantly, everything she’d needed.

By the time it was over, she was boneless, her body completely spent, her mind hazy with pleasure. Archer didn’t withdraw right away. He stayed inside her, his body pressed against hers, his lips brushing the side of her neck in a quiet, possessive kiss. Lanie exhaled softly, her fingers curling into the sheets. For the first time in years, she felt whole.

Archer shifted, withdrawing and rolling onto his back, pulling her against his chest, tucking her beneath his arm. His grip was firm, possessive, his lips pressing one last kiss to her forehead before he whispered, “Sleep, little one.”

And this time, she did.

Lanie woke to the feel of warm, solid heat at her back. Archer’s arm, heavy and possessive, draped over her waist, anchoring her in place. His breath was a slow, steady rhythmagainst the back of her neck, his body curled around hers in a way that left no room for escape—not that she wanted one.

For the first time in years, she wasn’t waking up to fear. She wasn’t flinching at the sound of footsteps outside her door or the phantom feeling of hands that didn’t belong. She was completely and utterly safe. And it had nothing to do with the security system, the armed Cerberus agents posted outside, or the gun Archer kept within arm’s reach.

It had everything to do with the man himself. Lanie let out a soft breath, shifting slightly, just enough to turn in his arms. Archer stirred, his grip tightening, as if even in sleep, he refused to let her go.

His face was relaxed in the early morning light, all the sharp, commanding edges softened. He looked almost peaceful.

Almost.

Lanie reached up, running her fingers lightly over his jaw. He made a quiet noise, his eyes flickering open, locking almost immediately on her, sharp despite the haze of sleep.

She smiled. “Morning.”

Archer studied her for a long moment, then, without a word, he rolled, pinning her beneath him in one slow, controlled movement.

Lanie let out a breathless laugh. “You really don’t enjoy waking up alone, do you?”

His lips brushed over her throat, the rasp of his stubble making her shiver. “You’re mine,” he murmured against her skin. “Don’t need to wake up alone anymore.”

Something warm, wild, and undeniable unfurled within her. She slid her hands up his back, fingers tracing the powerful linesof his muscles. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I don’t want to run anymore.”

Archer stilled. He lifted his head, gaze burning into hers. “You sure?”

Lanie nodded. “I spent so much time trying to survive, I forgot what it was like to live. I don’t want to keep running from something—I want to run toward something.”

His jaw flexed, emotion flickering behind his gaze. “And what are you running toward, little one?”

She smiled, lifting a hand to his face. “You.”

Archer’s fingers tangled in her hair, his grip just firm enough to make her breath catch. “Say it again.”

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