Page 91 of The Opposite of Romance
“Whatever you want,” she replies in a husky voice.
“What a dangerous thing to say,” I grit out.
“What if I’m in the mood for some danger tonight?”
I let out a growl. An actual growl that makes her squeal and jump up from the couch. To her advantage, she wasn’t holding her margarita glass, and she already took her shoes off, so she starts for the open patio door in a split second. She’s already out of the house while I place my glass on the coffee table and adjust my aching dick.
I start after her on a swift walk, letting her get some headway. Her backyard’s huge, but the pool is the only thing that’s lit up. It casts a soft glow on the area around it and I see her shadow as she runs off further, toward the woods.
This is going to be fun.
Chapter Thirty-Five
SADIE
My heart beatsout of my chest as I run through the freshly mowed grass to the shelter of the tall evergreens. Adrenaline courses my bloodstream, making my pussy quiver. I know he’ll catch me at some point.
But I have no idea what will happen when he does, and that’s the thrill of it. Finally reaching the sparse trees, I grab my dress so it doesn’t get stuck on a branch. The moon is almost full, giving me some vision, but the further I go, the less I see. My breath is already labored, a combination of running and my heart racing.
My skin buzzes with anticipation as I slide behind a tree off the path. I’m hoping it’s dark enough, so he doesn’t notice me.
A full minute passes before I hear the crunch of the twigs on the path, only a few feet away from me. My breath hitches in my throat, while my body freezes in place.
A whistling sound fills the otherwise silent night sky, and I barely suppress a gasp. He’s taunting me. He’s taunting me, knowing he’ll catch me.
I want him to catch me.
But not yet.
I’m still not breathing, not until the sound of the twigs gets quieter and quieter.
Eventually, I determine he’s far enough. I’m barefoot and my best chance is to run back to the clearing and hide behind the deck furniture. He’ll probably be expecting me to go deeper into the woods, but I’m too smart for that.
One, two, three, I count in my head before moving. My steps are slow and deliberate, but there’s no way to escape the crunch of leaves when I step on them.
My head jerks back hearing a loud sound, like someone jumping on a rock. I see his shadow, but with the dark, I can’t tell which way he’s facing. If he’s facing my way, it means he saw me. The second stretches for eternity while I shudder, struggling to make a decision. As soon as I hear him move, my instincts decide for themselves.
Abandoning all thoughts of keeping quiet, I run. My heartbeat buzzes in my ears, loud as thunder. I run as fast as my feet can take me, not daring to look back.
Just as my feet step into the soft clearing, the floor is knocked out from under me.
“Aaaah!” I scream, though my fall is somehow cushioned.
Large arms envelop me with strength and we both hit the ground. His strong, masculine scent infiltrates my nose, turning the adrenaline into pure lust. Liquid pools between my thighs as I fight him for dominance, trying to escape. I know I could stop this with a single word, but there’s no way in hell I’d want to.
“Let me go!” I yell, but he’s far too strong.
“Yell all you want, princess, but no one will hear you here.” His voice is low and hoarse, and I feel it like a caress.
I continue to scream for help while he subdues both my arms in a hard grip of his hand above my head. The grass is soft and cool beneath my back, but it does nothing to diminish the inferno raging inside of me.
On a sharp tug, he rips my dress in two with his other hand. I let out a loud, shocked gasp. His head lowers to my ear, whispering darkly, “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll buy you a new one. I’llbuy you every fucking thing you want if you scream so sweet for me.”
“I told you not to call me princess,” I bite out, my voice cracking.
“I don’t think you’re calling the shots now.” His lips pull up into a sadistic smirk, one that does wonders for my pussy, which is something I’d rather not psychoanalyze. “I know you’re used to being in control. I know you’re used to writing your stories and telling the characters what to do. But now, you’re helpless. And this story ismineto tell,” he ends on a growl.
Not being in control sounds like heaven. I want to feel the story he’s writing. I want him to play my body like an instrument, however he wants to.
