Page 64 of The Scout

A growl tore from my throat as I pulled my fingers out, gripping the back of her thigh and yanking it over my hip, lining myself up against her slick entrance. I didn’t tease. Didn’t hold back.

I drove inside her in one punishing thrust.

She cried out, fingers clawing into my back, her nails sharp against my skin. I pulled back and thrust again, harder, rougher, until I was buried so deep she had no choice but to feel me everywhere.

“Fuck, Isabel,” I groaned, pressing my forehead against hers, our bodies colliding over and over again. “You’re so goddamn tight.”

Her nails dragged down my back, her body clenching around me, milking my cock with every desperate roll of her hips. She wasn’t passive. Wasn’t just taking what I gave her—she was fighting for it, meeting every thrust, demanding more.

I lifted her higher, her back hitting the tile, and she gasped, her lips parting, her head tipping back. The moans spilling from her throat were fucking sinful, soft and breathless, so fucking sweet it made my chest ache.

Then—

She did something I didn’t expect.

She gripped my jaw, forcing my gaze to hers, her nails digging into my skin.

“Harder,” she whispered.

Jesus fuck.

Something dark unfurled in my chest, a primal,aching need to ruin her, to make her feel so wrecked she’d never even look at another man again. I slammed into her harder, the sounds of wet skin colliding filling the shower, her moans growing louder, sharper.

I could feel her tightening around me, her thighs trembling, her entire body going taut. “Ryker—oh, God?—”

I swallowed her moan, crushing my mouth to hers as I fucked her through it, driving her higher, making her come so hard she nearly sobbed.

I didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

I turned her, pressing her against the glass, one hand tangling in her hair as I took her from behind, thrusting deep, rolling my hips, forcing her to take every inch of me.

She gasped, hands pressed against the glass, her breath fogging up the surface. “Ryker?—”

“You feel that?” I growled against her ear, my teeth scraping her skin. “That’s me, Isabel. Inside you. Owning you.”

She whimpered, pushing back against me, nails squeaking against the fogged glass.

I lost it then.

I gripped her hips hard, snapping into her with sharp, punishing thrusts until my vision blurred, until I felt her squeeze around me again, her entire body shaking as she came one more time—harder this time, louder.

I followed, my body going rigid as I spilled inside her, a guttural moan tearing from my throat.

We stayed there for a moment, breathing hard, bodies tangled, the sound of water filling the heavy silence.

I turned her in my arms, her body limp, spent, perfect.

I should have been satisfied. Should have been able to let her go, put distance between us, regain control.

But when I looked down at her, really looked at her—flushed skin, swollen lips, those dark green eyes staring back at me like she already knew?—

I fucking realized the truth.

I was fucked.

21

ISABEL

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