Page 14 of Stalked By the Intern

He touches me in places I never knew existed, sending shivers down my spine. I beg for more. It's wrong. I know that much, but I can't help myself. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. His lips graze my ear, whispering things that make me blush.

The rough bite on my shoulder sends shards of pleasure through me. I whimper, lost in the pleasure he brings me. He kisses down my neck, sucking bruises into my skin. It feels good... too good. I close my eyes, unable to comprehend what's happening.

Time stands still as we make love again and again, losing track of each other and ourselves. A primal need takes over our senses. This isn't right, but it feels so damn good. I taste his skin, marking him as mine.

I whisper his name in the hollow of his neck, lost in the haze of desire. He kisses me fiercely, tasting my lips hungrily. I can't believe I'm here, with him, but I don't want it to stop. His hands roam freely, mapping every inch of my body. I gasp as he finds my sensitive spots, making me writhe under him.

I taste his skin, hungry for more. He moans, echoing my name into the stillness of the room. I arch into him, wanting more, even as my mind screams at me to stop.

Our bodies move together, a rhythm of possession and submission. He takes control effortlessly while I surrender willingly. I can't believe this is happening, but I don't want it to stop. His touch sends fireworks through my system.

I cry out his name, feeling the thrusts of pleasure-pain shooting through me. I arch into him, needing more of his bite. His teeth graze my neck, following the trail of saliva from earlier. I shudder, addicted to the pain he gives me.

He growls, claiming me as his own. The taste of my blood on his lips only fuels his obsession. I cry out, and he meets my cry with a growl of his own.

Our lovemaking becomes rougher, more desperate. I kiss his neck, tasting him, wanting to be a part of him.

He holds me tight, not letting go. I whisper how much I want this, how much I need it. How I never thought I could feel such darkness, but it excites me. We fall into a mess of limbs and sweat, panting heavily.

I stare at him, shocked by what we've just done.

"You're mine now, Willow," he declares.

And I don't argue. Becuase I know it's true.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Andy

The cabin'swooden walls are silent witnesses to the tension that crackles between us like static. Willow's gaze locks onto mine, those deep blue pools drowning in vulnerability and something darker, something that mirrors the hunger gnawing at my soul.

"I've been drawn to you since we first met," she whispers, her voice a tremble that sends ripples through my already racing heart. "I tried to deny it, but I can't anymore, Andy."

Hearing her confess, it's like a dam breaking inside me. There's no holding back the torrent of relief and exhilaration that floods my veins. I pull her close, my hands roaming over her body with an urgency that borders on desperation. The need to claim her, to erase any doubt that she's mine, consumes me.

"Willow," I murmur against her lips before crushing them with mine. Our kiss is a conflagration, tongues tangling in a dance as old as time yet as fresh as the desire that flares between us. She's the spark, the flame, and the oxygen feeding my blaze all at once.

Her hands clutch at my back, nails digging into muscle as if she's afraid I'll slip away. But I'm not going anywhere—not when every inch of her skin under my touch screams to be worshipped, not when her taste is the only thing that can satiate the craving that roars through me.

We're lost in each other, the world outside this cabin ceasing to exist. It's just her and me, the thud of our hearts, and the heat that binds us together in a way nothing else ever could.

The air is a living thing, thick and hot, heavy with the scent of us, of want unfurling like smoke in the cramped space of the cabin. My hands roam over Willow, mapping the terrain of her body with a reverence that borders on obsession. I am gentle, but my grip leaves no room for doubt. She ismine.

I press my lips to her neck, each kiss a brand, an indelible claim. She tilts her head back, exposing the delicate column of her throat to me, and I can't help but mark her. Each spot I leave is a silent testament to the depth of my craving, a craving that has gnawed at me since the moment I first laid eyes on her.

"Please," she gasps, the word breaking from her in a whisper that's almost a moan, and it's all the permission I need to push further, delve deeper.

Willow arches into me, every curve of her fitting against my angles as if we're two pieces of a puzzle long separated. Her sounds of pleasure are raw, unfiltered, filling the cabin and reverberating against the wooden walls. It's music, the most primal and beautiful symphony, conducted by the force of our colliding bodies.

She surrenders, her inhibitions dissolving like sugar in the heat between us. It's a surrender I accept with a fervor that borders on reverence, my hands worshiping her as if she's the very altar I've been seeking all my life. There's power in her trust, in the way she gives herself over to the hunger that pulls us both under its raging current.

"More," she breaths out, and the word is a key turning in a lock I didn't even know existed within me.

"Always more for you," I promise, voice ragged with the effort of holding back the beast of my desire. But it's a losing battle, one I don't intend to win. Not when she's here, with me, becoming the center of my dark universe.

With each touch, each kiss, I stake my claim, binding her to me in ways that words could never capture. We're spiraling, caught in the eye of a storm made of flesh and fire, and there's nowhere else I'd rather be. Nowhere else I could be.

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