Cold Hearted Bastard (Underworld Kings)

“You should have run,” he growled. “You should have run so far and fast from me that you thought there would be no chance for me to find you.” He used his foot to kick my legs apart, and I teetered against the counter to steady myself. I did make a sound then, one of shock and arousal at his forcefulness, at the fact that he was so clearly unhinged.

“You would have found me.” The words were so thin, like a blade of grass in the wind, one you’re barely able to grasp as it slips through your fingers.

He pressed his body flush with mine, and I snapped my eyes open at the feel of how hard he was, the thick rod nestled right between my ass cheeks, my shirt molded to my body and a barrier to what I really wanted.

“That’s fucking right, Galina. I would have found you.” He pressed against my ass slowly, steadily, showing me what he was working with. “There isn’t any place on this fucking planet you could hide from me.” He slammed so hard against my ass that I was pushed forward slightly on the granite, my palms sweaty, slipping against the smooth top.

I couldn't catch my breath. My pussy was soaked. This forcefulness coming from Arlo, the dominance and the way he spoke like he owned me and no one would ever have me but him was a fire between my legs that spread outward and threatened to burn the entire apartment down.

“I wonder how wet you are right now. I wonder if I slipped my hands between your legs, if you’d soak my fingers.”

I didn’t speak, couldn't, so instead I lifted my ass and ground the cheeks against his erection. The material of his sweatpants and my cotton shirt, and the fact that I wore no panties, left little to my imagination on what he was sporting between his legs, not when I could feel every hard inch, every defined ridge.

He hissed against my ear, pushing the long fall of my hair over one shoulder and wrapping the strands around his fist, jerking my head farther to the side, keeping me stationed. He leaned down to lick my neck like some kind of creature tasting his meal. “You must like playing with wild animals, baby. You must like the risk of getting bitten.”

I closed my eyes and moaned, a nonverbal affirmation that I wanted anything he had to give me.

“So tell me… tell me how fucking wet your cunt is for my cock. Tell me how much your body weeps for me to fuck it.”

“Why don’t you find out?” God, I really did want to get bitten as I taunted Arlo, as I lifted my ass and moved it back down, over and over again, grinding myself against him as if I had any clue what the hell I was doing. I had no idea how to seduce a man, but the lack of control and restraint I could feel coming from Arlo told me my lack of experience didn’t matter. He wanted me fiercely.

He was still and tense behind me, as if my words had shocked him, maybe even pissed him off because I was going against him. I had no doubt not many people did, not if they valued their life. But when a deep sound of pure lust came from him, I knew I’d won. I knew he wouldn’t deny me, because whatever thoughts he’d been lost in before I’d come into the kitchen, before my presence dragged him out of the blood that covered his vision and mind, I was more powerful in this moment to have that wrought-iron will vanishing.

He pushed that turmoil down so the man who was behind me was one who would fuck me to let me know we were both here and alive and nothing could change that. Because even if we both had some part of evil in our lives that festered, right here and now, Arlo was mine just as much as I’d always be his.

And as he slid his hands over my arms and down my waist to grip my hips in a bruising hold, I knew without fault I’d never wanted to be broken more than I did right now.

For a long moment he did nothing but hold me, his hands like vises around me. I wondered if he was trying to talk himself out of it, tell himself this was a bad idea, that crossing this line would end up changing everything. I wanted to yell and scream, look him in the eye and tell him things were already changed. I was already changed. And it was because of him.

He growled. “I’ve always prided myself on being a man with control, that nothing could bring me to my knees—figuratively and literally. But where you’re concerned…” He ran the tip of his nose over the side of my neck, and I tilted my head to give him better access. “Where you’re concerned, I’ve never been more irrational or fucking crazed in my fucking life.”