Page 32 of F*ck Steal Kill

Quentin made me feel safe, cherished, and adored. His desire and possessiveness were hot, and I’d already become addicted, tumbling headfirst into his arms. My walls had crashed down around me to smithereens, and now I felt flayed open…vulnerable.

“Don’t hide away from me, baby. Open your eyes and be with me in this moment.”

My eyes instinctively obeyed his command, despite my desire to do the opposite of what he said. His dark orbs stared back, offering me comfort and safety I hadn’t known how to ask for. I swallowed, his thumb rubbing over my pulse point.

“You’re mine now, Holland. Do you understand?”

I nodded without thought, then stopped as I frowned. His grip tightened, not uncomfortably, just enough to make me look into his eyes again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes searching mine for the answer.

I licked my lips as questions tumbled. How did I bring up his friends? Or mine, for that matter? What did being his actually mean?

My pussy very much liked the idea of being his, her walls tightening around the very hard dick still inside me. His nostrils flared at the move, but he waited for me to answer. Thankfully, those few seconds had allowed my voice to return, and I remembered who I was.

Holland Kyler. I didn’t belong to anyone but myself.

“I’m not going to run away with you into the sunset. I’m not the marrying type. I won’t be tied down to one man. Ever. Not even if your dick is like the gold medal of dicks. My pussy has too many disco sticks to ride in her future to be happy with one for the rest of her life.”

Quentin’s eyes burned with an intensity I’d never witnessed before; his stare liquified me to the spot. My body quivered, but not one ounce of me feared for my safety, which shocked me.

“Who else?” he gritted out like the words tasted sour to him.

His eyes never left my face, his hand still around my neck, and his cock still hard inside me. The position alone should’ve caused me pause, but it didn’t. If anything, I wanted him more. But I couldn’t let him win.

“Whoever the fuck I want,” I taunted, licking my lips.

His eyes shuttered closed for the first time, and I worried I’d pushed him too far. His hand flexed, his nostrils flaring as he took in a deep, stuttering breath, letting it out slowly. It was only his dick twitching that clued me in that he wasn’t done with me. At least not yet.

Apparently, I’d upgraded my gut bullshit meter, and my pussy was now a cock lie detector.

The longer he was quiet, the more my need to test people to see if they would leave was triggered, and I buckled down, tightening my walls around him.

What do you say, Q? Up for a game of pussy chicken?

Quentin sucked in a breath, his eyes flying open, and my heart settling now that he was staring at me again.

“Max and Grady only then,” he growled, my body shivering with need at the level of lust and hunger in his voice. “Tell me you understand so I can fuck you again for trying to push me away.”

This time, I sucked in a breath, and the wall I’d been trying to rebuild crumbled at my feet. There was still so much to discuss, but it didn’t seem to matter at this point. Nothing but the feel of him in me did. I was so screwed.

“Yes,” I said, my voice husky.

Like lightning, he released his hold on my throat and pulled out, my body whimpering at the loss of him. Why did I feel so empty now he was gone?

Before I could explore my line of thinking, hands lifted me and spun me around until my back lay against the warm metal of the motorcycle beneath me. My legs were sprawled across his thick thighs, his hands clasping down on them. The skirt was up, and my panties were in tatters around me showcasing my bare pussy on full display for him.

Quentin’s gaze bored into me, licking his lips as he flexed his hands on my thighs.

“Hold on to the handlebars again.”

He yanked off the condom and then froze in place, his wide eyes meeting mine.

“Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it!”

I blinked at him, not understanding his frustration.

“Sorry, I only had one condom.”

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