Caught for Christmas (Stripped 3.50)

His eyes are almost pitch-black with need. “Are you sure?”

I squeeze him with my inner muscles, and that’s all the answer he needs. He starts fucking me hard, rocking the whole couch with each thrust. The force of his thrusts push me up the sofa until I’m tipping over the side. I let my head and shoulders hang over the edge, reveling in the pure savagery.

Then I feel his hard chest meet my breasts. His hand cups the back of my head, and he’s holding me up, holding me to him while he kisses me. It’s a tender kiss, a sharp contrast to the way his body slams into mine.

He fucks me until I sob his name and come around him. I milk his orgasms right out of him because he follows right behind, his rough groan like music—a haunting tune I know I’ll think of later, when he’s gone.

When he pulls out, he looks down, and I do too. My sex is flushed pink and swollen with the pounding he’s given me. His cock is dark, almost purple at the tip, and shiny from his come.

His come. He came inside me. No condom.

His gaze acknowledges the loss, but he doesn’t look worried. He looks satisfied, almost smug. “You’re mine now.”

Chapter Sixteen

He lets me wash up, a short reprieve. I clean myself with water and soap, but they do nothing to diminish the feel of him coming inside me, the insistent jet of come that marks me as his. It was a primitive feeling—skin to skin, the hot wash of come.

I feel claimed even though I don’t believe in things like that.

I search through his drawers and find a large pair of cotton workout shorts and a white T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder. They’re too big for me, but I don’t mind. They’re like armor, and I need all the protection I can get. I’m too exposed right now, too vulnerable in every way that matters—at least I can pretend that my body is still my own.

When I come back into the living space, he’s on the phone in the kitchen.

He paces, vibrating with tension. “We need to find him before he—”

There’s a pause.

“I can’t take that risk,” West says, practically growling. “I don’t even want to leave her alone until they’re gone.”

Another pause.

> Then a sigh. “Yeah, I got it. Thank you. I mean it.”

It must be Blue on the other end of the line. I can tell by the familiar way West speaks, full of trust and friendship. I linger in the living room, knowing I shouldn’t be listening. It’s like the laughter I heard at the baby shower—alluring but not for me.

He hangs up and notices me. His expression flashes blank fast enough that I know exactly who he was talking about with Blue. Me.

“You’re looking for Jeb?” I ask.

He doesn’t flinch, but his expression is wary. He comes closer. “We need to make sure they’re not going to target the Grand anymore.”

“It’s okay.” It’s only natural they would be looking for Jeb. I’m surprised he let Maisie leave at all. Maybe some old-world chivalry thing. But Maisie is just as guilty as Jeb—and I’m as guilty as them both. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“You have to do your job and protect the Grand.” And I’m not going to fight him or evade him. Not anymore. He can fuck me until he’s ready to turn me over to Ivan. Or maybe he’ll let me go. I don’t even care anymore. They’re both the same. They both mean losing him.

“That’s right.” His voice is cautious.

“And you want to make sure we leave the city,” I continue, my voice cracking. “That’s only fair, considering what we tried to do.”

His expression darkens. “You’re not leaving, Bianca. Not when I just got you here.”

I bite my lip. “I don’t understand. Why would you want to keep me after what I did?”

The obvious answer is my body, but I don’t fool myself. There’s an entire club full of beautiful girls at the Grand—girls who never tried to steal. He’s sexy and kind. He would have no trouble finding a girl to sleep with him. There’s no reason why he should want me.

Though, he doesn’t look like he wants me. Not at the moment. He looks angry.