Page 10 of Scarred Bride

Chapter IV

Heath

Serenity’s lips mold to mine. Damn if I can think beyond the taste of her—the feel of her.

I dig my fingers into her ass, hitching her up against me while I plunge my tongue into her mouth. The kiss holds all the brutality slamming through my body and no trace of the sweetness of the boy I once was.

Oh, I thought about doing this plenty. But I never once slipped up and closed the distance between us, even when she was glued to my side every time we came in contact.

Why now?

She issues a small sigh that has my cock throbbing behind my fly. As she angles her head to allow me to sink my tongue deeper into her mouth, a ravenous need scores me like the slash of a sword.

I want to hurt her like her father hurt my family. I want to bend her to my will. Force her to her knees.

Ripping my mouth away from hers, I glare down into her eyes. The blue depths of hers shoot sparks right back.

Now that’s the Serenity Hunt I know. The girl from the wrong side of the tracks who became my enemy. But that look in her eyes says she deserves a chance—and more.

When she lifts her chin in that stubborn way, there’s no ignoring it.

I grab the front of her shirt and rip it open. Buttons go flying. She gasps at the violation, but she doesn’t even know what’s coming.

I don’t give her a chance to think either.

I rip off her bra too. Her arms come up to cover herself. Cover all that glorious beauty? No way.

Reaching between my shoulder blades, I yank my shirt overhead and cast it aside.

My arms lock around her, lifting her before she can blink. We fall to the rug at our feet, and I’m already unbuttoning my pants.

Anger rips her pretty features. Fucking turning me on more.

If she’s mad, then I’m furious, that I was ripped out of bed and flung into this mess.

That she was ripped from my life and this is how I got her back.

I crush my lips over hers again, cutting off any protests. She won’t tell me no. And I won’t take it for an answer anyway.

I clap a hand over her full breast. Fuller than it was in her teen years. When I pinch her nipple mercilessly between my finger and thumb, she bites my lip.

Rearing back, I glare down into her eyes. “Don’t do that again,” I warn.

“Or what?”

I gentle my touch on her nipple, turning it into a caress, and she arches and cries out.

As I watch pleasure mingled with pain ripple across her face, I’m throbbing to inflict both over and over again until she doesn’t know up from down.

I lean in and bite her lip back. My own blood that she drew smears over her pout, and I thumb it away. I push onto my knees and fix her in my stare. Working off her pants takes a heartbeat.

I swipe the rest of the blood off my lip as I drink in the swell of her breasts and the dark pink centers I want to crush like roses between my fingers and teeth. I can’t look away from the dip between her waist and hips that are too lean now.

I work open my jeans and in seconds I have my stiff cock in hand. When I wedge myself between her thighs, her cry takes a frantic edge.

“What?” I taunt. “You offered your body. And I never turn down an offer.”

I spread her legs wide, and in one hard shove, I fill her pussy.

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