Summer Camp Captive

Minutes later, we’re inside the apartment. Carver still hasn’t said a word, but he appears ready to snap. And I know just how to make him better. How to remind him I’m his. Only his. Forever.

Chapter Thirteen

Carver

Fury pulses hot in my veins. The need to commit murder burns me like an inferno. How did I resist killing a man who chased my girl and claimed to own her? The only thing that stopped me was having witnesses. Lainey has worked so hard to make them see me as more than a beast. I could disappoint her or allow them to try and separate us. I’m most definitely a fucking beast right now, though. My fists are shaking, my teeth bared, ready to rip out someone’s throat.

My rage takes on a lustful edge when Lainey presses her hands to my chest. Beneath her touch, my heart slows its hurtling rhythm and grows attuned to her. Beat, beat, beat. My head is still teeming with malice, but Lainey loves her control. And I love giving it to her, even when I’m full of rage. This time, though, I’m not so sure I can let her call the shots. I’m on the goddamn razor’s edge of my limit.

Without saying a word, she trails her fingertips down to my belt buckle, unfastening it, before lowering my zipper, the metallic zing filling the room.

“I am not rational right now, princess,” I moan, my hips tilting forward involuntarily when she fists my cock. “I’m afraid to take you when I’m like this.”

“I’m not,” she says, stroking me slowly. “I’m never afraid. Even when I was running away from that man, I wasn’t scared. I knew you would come.”

“You should not have been made to run at all.” I bury my head in my hands and squeeze, trying to rid myself of the image. “It is killing me to know he exists. To know there’s any man walking this earth who thinks they have a claim on you…”

“Who is the only man with a claim on me?”

“Me.” I lean down and grind the word into her hair through my teeth. “I am.”

A shudder moves Lainey. Her grip grows more insistent, massaging my cock from root to tip with maddening twists. “I need you to show me, though, Carver.”

As Lainey’s trust in me has grown stronger, the more she has allowed me to conquer her in the bedroom, no questions asked. But she always has the ability to make me obey her whims on a dime—and we both know it. If she says stop, my hips freeze and I endure the torture. Whatever I have to do to remind her she’s not trapped. Right now, though, I can see in her eyes, she’s giving herself over, no holds barred. I have free rein over my girl right now. She is no doubt trying to heal my fractured sanity. Trying to refocus my anger into love…and even fully aware of what she’s doing, I’m powerless to do anything but let her. Although “let” isn’t really the right word, because I lift her off the ground, take three giant steps, then lower her to the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace.

Christ, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Big eyes, fastened on me. Her golden hair fans out around her face, her thighs raised to give a peek under her skirt at the ruffled white panties beneath. Panties I slid up her legs this afternoon, before lowering her skirt to cover what I own. To hide it from prying eyes. God. The need to renew my possession clouds my blood like squid ink.

I drop down to my knees in front of her. “Spread your legs.”

“Yes, my king,” she whispers, letting her thighs drop open.

Her breath races. As I watch, moisture appears on the material of her underwear, making the cotton cling and outline the delicious lips beneath. I cup my left hand over that sweet mound and squeeze, using my grip to keep her hips down when they shoot off the floor. “Mine.” I strip the panties off her body in one quick motion, tossing them away. Then I lean down and snap my teeth over her glistening cunt—once, twice—knowing I must look feral and not giving a fuck. “Mine.”

“Yes.”

I rip her shirt down the middle with my bare hands, exposing her bouncy tits. Her shuddering belly. I’m on the verge of telling Lainey the rest of her belongs to me, too, but I meet her eyes…and it’s not necessary. She already knows. And the love shining back at me starts an earthquake in my gut. “I could have lost you.” I fall forward, supporting myself on my forearms. “If I hadn’t gone back to the window—”

“Shh, Carver—”

“You will never be injured,” I shout at her. “You will never die,”