Page 34 of Merciless Sinner

“Marriage doesn’t make me yours. Neither does a contract.” I try to keep my meager strength flowing, but it’s dwindling.

“If I fucked you against this wall right now, you’d be mine.” His eyes radiate with the idea while my traitorous body betrays me when my mind serves up an image of him taking me hard against the wall.

The crude, lewd image conjures moisture between my thighs and turns my nipples to shards of glass.

“You’d be nothing but a monster if you did that.” My voice is breathy, as if I’m fighting for air.

“Newsflash, sweetheart. I’m already a monster. A ruthless motherfucker who knows nothing but savagery, so fucking you against a wall is nothing new to me. Or you.”

Fire races over my skin, like flames flicking over gasoline. My mouth goes dry, and my brain stills but snaps back into focus when he inches closer to my lips.

I turn my face away, but he catches it, guiding me back to face him.

“I’m not that girl anymore,” I stutter.

“But you never stopped being her,Olivia.”

That name still sounds misplaced on me. “I did.”

“No, not for me. Whether you remember me or not, you still want me.”

“I don’t.”

I’ve barely uttered the word when he presses into me, pinning my body right against the wall so I can’t move.

I gasp when he rolls up my skirt and his fingers slip under the lace of my panties, straight into my pussy.

He did it so fast I barely registered that he’d moved until his fingers were inside me. Now that they are, and completely immersed in my wet folds, I’m stunned to my core.

“Liar. You’re wet for me,” he says in a playful voice and smirks as I grow wetter. “I pray to God your first memory is how much you love riding my cock. Or how much you love it when I do this.”

His fingers flutter over my sex and back to my folds so he can push his fingers into my passage, then he strokes from inside to outside in a practiced manner, showing me we’ve done this before.

Done this before, and yes… I like it. But I mustn’t.

I manage to press my hands against his chest, but his damn fingers inside me feel so good I can’t think straight enough to form words. Or fight to move away.

What the hell is wrong with me?

My memory loss shouldn’t affect my common sense or my ability to know right from wrong, but this guy has been the exception to everything from the moment he stepped into my world.

Exception or not, I have to try and get away from him.

“Sto…p,” I stutter, on the edge of a mindless moan.

With a wicked smile, he starts a steady pump into my passage. “Stop me.”

Although he moves back a little to give me an opening to stop him, the devil he is sets me up for to fail when he rubs over the hard nub of my clit and starts stroking me. Like with everything else, he knew I wouldn’t be able to resist him.

“You are such… an ass…hole.”

“Yeah, that’s what you love about me.”

The next second sees his lips on mine, kissing me with the same possession he used in Monte Carlo.

This kiss is just as paralyzing, cruel, and almost punishing. It’s like he wants to punish me for not remembering him and however many kisses we must have shared like this.

His lips on mine while he finger-fucks my pussy push me to the edge of insanity. And like the woman starved to be touched, I melt into the granite muscles of his chest, yielding to his possession.

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