Page 44 of Hunted Vengeance

When his hand disappears and curls around my hip, I try to gain my breath. But I don’t have the chance because my hips are tipped, and then he’s inside of me. Stretching me and consuming me all over again.

My lips part as I gasp. Merrick’s lips twitch into a smirk from behind me. “Look at me. Do not break eye contact. I want to look into your eyes while I’m fucking you.”

Somewhere in the background, I can hear the music in the church as guests arrive. Guests who I don’t even know. Guests who are likely just as inhumane as my future husband. I don’t care about any of them. I never did.

I’m looking into the eyes of the only man who has ever meant anything to me while he moves inside of my body. When he pulls almost completely out of me and then slides back inside, his gaze holds mine.

True to his demand, he holds my gaze with each and every stroke of his hips. As he thrusts harder, faster, showing my body no mercy, my eyelids slowly begin to close, but each time they do, he buries himself inside of me, stopping his movements, and it jars me so they pop back open.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he warns. Nodding, I bite the corner of my bottom lip to keep from closing my eyes again. It doesn’t take long, just a few more strokes, until I come again. I don’t know how, but it rushes through me unexpectedly.

So unexpectedly that I cry out louder than I should. Merrick lifts his hand from my hip, covering my mouth to muffle my screams of pleasure. But he doesn’t stop moving from behind. Only when he comes does he stop, burying himself deep inside of me with a guttural groan.

MERRICK

Beinginside Colette feels like finally being free. I can’t say that it feels like home because the only home I’ve ever had is the apartment I have now, although when she lived there, it felt bright and happy. But other than that, I’ve never known a home. But I do know what it’s like to not be free.

I don’t want to leave her body. I want to stay right here until I fucking die. She lets out a sigh as she blinks, and then her lips curve up into a grin, watching me through the reflection of the mirror.

“Are you ready to come home?” I ask her.

I watch as her eyes widen, her lips part in awe, and she just stares at me without answering or even breathing. I force myself to take a step backward, and we moan in unison when I slip from the warmth of her body.

Reaching for my pants, I guide them up my legs and fasten them again, tucking my shirt into the waistband, never looking away from her in the mirror. Slowly, she straightens her dress before she turns to face me.

Her gaze slides up my body and stops on mine. “If I leave with you, they will come and find me.”

It’s cute as fuck that she’s trying to protect me. Taking a step toward her, I lift my hand, cupping her cheek as I slide my thumb along her bottom lip. “Let them,” I say. “Let them come. I welcome it because it will be less time that I have to spend hunting them down.”

“Merrick,” she breathes.

“Come with me, Colette.”

I’m giving her about five seconds before I grab her and carry her out of the room. I would rather she come willingly, but I’m also not going to wait for her, giving someone even more of a chance to find us.

My gaze travels from her eyes down to her lips before skimming down her throat. Then I pause. I was so consumed earlier by desire and the need to be inside of her that I didn’t notice it. How did I not see it until now?

Her throat.

It’s bruised.

“Don’t,” she whispers, trying to take a step backward.

She likely notices my focus on the marks around her throat, and my eyes flick up to meet hers. “Who did this to you?” I demand.

“Let’s just go,” she breathes.

“Who. Did. This. To. You.”

I watch as her tongue slips out before sliding across her bottom lip. She shakes her head, reaching out to me. I feel the warmth of her palm against my chest radiating through my shirt. I don’t look down because I can’t take my eyes off hers.

“It doesn’t matter. It won’t ever happen again,” she whispers.

“Answer me this,” I grind out, gnashing my teeth together. “Was it your father or this fucker you were supposed to marry?”

She jerks her chin up in a single motion but doesn’t confirm which one. Hell, maybe it was both of them. Her father was involved. I know that much. He’s the one who took her wherever she’s been hidden away the past few weeks, and this bruising is not very old.

“They’re both dead anyway,” I announce. “I’ll just make them both suffer a little longer for daring to put a mark on the woman who belongs to me.”

---