Page 52 of The Final Contract
Her nails dig into my shoulders. She sobs out another moan, thighs trembling.
“Not him,” I snarl, curling my fingers deep, rubbing her clit mercilessly. “Never him. Only me. Say it.”
Her voice is broken, wrecked. “Yes, you.”
And Christ, I fucking love it. Love the sound of it. Love the way her body bows under me, surrendering while she spills over my hand again and again, until she can barely stand.
Her cries fade, and before she can catch her breath, I spin her around. Her palms smack the counter, catching her weight. Lust still burns in those deep blue eyes, her chest heaving, skin flushed.
I’m quick—too quick for her to protest. I shove her dress higher, drag my knife free, hook it under the band of her panties. One sharp pull and the silk gives, the sound of tearing fabric echoing in the tiled room. I tug them from between her legs, damp and ruined, before sliding the blade away.
Her panties are soaked. My fist tightens around them, and I lift them to my face. Breathe her in.
Fucking heaven.
I slide them into the inside pocket of my jacket like I’ve claimed a prize, then grip the firm globes of her ass.
“Such a bad girl,” I murmur, kneading her cheeks. Pulling them apart, appreciating her tight asshole, waxed and smooth, begging to be filled. “Running from me.”
Her mouth opens, ready to argue—so I pull my hand back and bring it down hard. The sharp crack fills the room.
She gasps, eyes flying wide, arousal sparking hotter through the surprise.
I massage her again, rough, filling my palms with her. Watching her face in the mirror. “When are you going to learn, angel? The only safe place for you… is with me.”
Another smack. Her body jerks, but the sound that leaves her throat isn’t pain—it’s a whimper, hungry and desperate.
I reach around, finding her clit, throbbing and slick. She cries out as I spank her again, my fingers circling ruthlessly.
“Tell me what you want,” I growl against her ear.
“You,” she gasps, pressing back into me.
Another smack. “Be specific. Use your words.”
Her voice fractures. “I want your cock. I want it deep. Hard. Until I can’t breathe.”
“That’s my good girl.” I pinch her clit between two fingers, precise and punishing. She rises to her toes, body bowing, mouth open in a cry that shatters into moans as she comes again—harder this time, wrecked, surrendering everything to me.
When she collapses against the counter, I turn her back to face me. Her dress is still hiked high. One of my hands grips her reddened ass, squeezing until she flinches, the heat of my strikes burning beneath my palm.
The other stays between her legs, her cum running down my palm, dripping down her thighs.
Oh, fuck. She’s a juicy little killer. And I want every drop of her pleasure to belong to me.
“You’re going to go to the limo,” I tell her, voice steady, leaving no room for doubt. “You’re going to sit like a good girl. No panties. Soaking the seat for me while I take you home. And if you behave, I’ll eat that sweet pussy of yours all night.”
Her lips part, trembling—ready to answer—but I don’t let her.
I grab her chin and crash my mouth to hers first, taking what I want. The kiss is brutal, consuming, my tongue forcing past her lips and claiming every sound she tries to make.
When I finally tear my mouth from hers, I tighten my grip on her ass until she flinches. My voice is a growl against her swollen lips.
“Say it.”
“Yes,” she whispers, wrecked. “I’ll be good.”
The corner of my mouth curves slow, dangerous. Like she just signed her soul over to the devil.
