Page 36 of Colton
I shake my head, my breath hitching in my chest. “You’re crazy. You know that? You’re fucking crazy!”
He takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m crazy for you, Mary. Maybe I’m so fucking consumed by you that I can’t think straight.”
I’m backed up against a tree now, the rough bark pressing into my back. Colton looms over me, his body mere inches from mine. I can feel his heat, his intensity. It’s suffocating, overwhelming. But beneath the fear, there’s a spark of something else. Something I don’t want to acknowledge.
“Colton,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “You’re scaring me.”
He reaches out, twisting my body so I’m forced up against the tree. “You said I can't chase you and claim you.”
I gasp as he yanks my pants down, my bare ass exposed in the moonlight.
“You want to scream so those men find you? Do you know what they’ll do to you if they find you?”
“Colton...” My voice trembles as he kicks my legs apart, my core throbbing with need that makes me detest my very being.
“I protect you. I own you.”
Then he thrusts into me, and I scream with the rawness of the invasion. He’s so big, he’s stretching me wide, forcing me to take him. It doesn’t matter that we’ve just fucked, I feel raw.
“You feel that, Mary?” he growls, his voice a primal, possessive sound in my ear. “This is me claiming you. Me owning you.”
His hips move in a brutal, relentless rhythm, each thrust driving me harder against the tree, the rough bark biting into my skin. I can feel the anger and desperation rolling off him in waves, the raw need to possess me, to prove that I’m his.
My body responds despite itself, a traitorous heat building within me, even as my mind screams in protest. I can feel the tears stinging in my eyes, the confusion and fear warring with the unwanted pleasure that ripples through me with each powerful thrust.
“You. Are. Mine.” He punctuates each word with a hard, driving movement, his breath hot against my neck. His hands grip my hips, fingers digging into my flesh, holding me in place as he takes what he wants, what he believes is his.
I cling to the tree, my fingers scraping against the bark, trying to find something to ground me as Colton consumes me. His words echo in my mind, a dark, twisted mantra that I can’t escape.
“Colton...please...” I whimper, the words torn from my lips like a secret. I don’t know what I’m asking for—for him to stop, to let me go, or to keep going, to push me over the edge into the dark abyss of pleasure and pain that he’s created.
He growls in response, a low, feral sound that sends a shiver down my spine. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming morefrenzied, more desperate. I can feel him losing control, the primal need to claim me overwhelming everything else.
My body tenses, my desire building. I try to keep an iota of control, but it’s no use. Colton slams into me so hard I become undone, my pussy gripping him as my pleasure owns me.
He shoots his load into me, grunting and groaning in the sexiest way. He collapses against me, his breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps.
God, he’s a fucking beautiful nightmare.
Then, slowly, he pulls away, his eyes meeting mine. There’s a darkness in them, a possessiveness that hasn’t diminished, despite the intensity of what we’ve just shared. He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly gentle after the raw ferocity of our fucking. He slides out of me, and I wince, pulling my pants up and turning to face him.
I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I know I should fight him, should push him away and run as far and as fast as I can. But something holds me back—a mix of fear, confusion, and a twisted, unwanted desire that I can’t shake.
“Colton,” I respond, my voice barely a whisper. “I...I need to tell you something.”
This is suicide, surely.
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t pull away. He waits, his gaze locked on mine, waiting for me to continue.
But he will understand...
I take a deep, shaky breath, trying to find the words, trying to find the courage to say what I need to say. “I...I’m not who you think I am.”
We’re made of the same thing....
He studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nods. “I know.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “You know?”
