Page 74 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

I needed this. I needed him to make me forget all of this again, just like he did on the hood of his car, just like he did when he bent me over the guest bed and claimed me from behind.

And I needed him, the man I was in love with, no matter how wrong our love might be.

My lower belly was screaming for him to take me, my skin alive, craving to be touched everywhere, especially between my legs.

Hunter’s kiss became harder while the soft clips of his buckle coming undone preceded a swift glide of it.

Hunter grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my mouth from his—his jaw clenched as he glared down at me.

“You have any idea what it would do to me if something happened to you, Little Leopard?”

I couldn’t free myself from his grip, even if I wanted to. But I didn’t. There was something…intoxicating about his anger, for the source of it was the threat to my life.

Hunter released my head and pushed my wrists together, wrapping them with his belt. It stung, the wound beneath it still not healed, and for a second, I worried he might tie me up so he could go off and kill the man who’d threatened me, but instead, he picked up the knife.

And brought it to my chest.

He lightly dragged the blade of the knife down my torso to the bottom of my shirt. He pulled the fabric away from my flesh and slowly—carefully—cut it away from my body.

Inch. By. Inch.

I’d never imagined something so dark would be so sensual, but when he tossed my shirt to the ground, my mouth watered, watching him move onto my pants. Still angry. Tugging, making sure the blade never touched my skin, he cut through it all. Leaving me standing before him in a red bra and panties.

He drew the tip of the blade near my sternum, and with a pop, my bra sprang open. Two more cuts of the straps and it was off me.

I panted, watching the blade delicately trail my skin until it reached my panties, and this time, Hunter stretched them away from my skin, but looked me dead in the eyes as he cut them free.

Leaving me naked. Wrists bound. Standing in front of a violent killer.

He was chivalrous enough to set the knife down now as he took a step back and growled, “Get on your knees.”

Holy heat between my thighs.

I gladly obeyed, and as he stripped himself free of his clothes, I couldn’t help but salivate at the sight of him.

He grabbed the back of my hair.

“Open your mouth.”

I looked up at him as my jaw went slack.

This time, Hunter Lockwood wasn’t gentle. He plunged inside me and made me choke, pulling back to thrust in again. And again. Holding the sides of my head, he used my mouth to take his anger out.

I loved the look on his face. His teeth clenched in pleasure and frustration. I loved the sounds of his groans and how he’d hold himself in for a moment, only to pop free and start again. He began moving faster and faster, his growling rising in pitch like he was getting close.

And then he popped out of my mouth again and stepped back.

“Stand up.”

My legs were slow to rise after being in that position, so he reached down, grabbed me, and slung me over his shoulder.

He carried me like I weighed nothing into his bedroom and tossed me onto the bed.

With one long end of the belt still unraveled, he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me to the center of his bed, where he secured the other end of the belt to his headboard until my arms were pulled above my head, my nude body exposed and vulnerable to anything he wanted to do to me.

Hunter stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes roaming over my body like a hungry man ready to devour a feast. His every muscle was tense with anticipation as he looked at my legs, my mouth, and my breasts, appearing to debate where to start devouring his meal first.

“Spread your legs,” he demanded.

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