جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 8

The man collapses as the stranger releases his throat. His knees hit the floor so hard the sound cracks through the motel room. He stares up at the stranger like he’s looking at death itself and his face has gone completely gray.Sweat pours down the side of his temple while his mouth works uselessly, lips trembling around words that never quite form."P-please," he finally chokes out.The stranger says nothing, just stands inside the shattered doorway with one hand tucked loosely into the pocket of his black slacks, expensive suit fitting him like it was stitched directly onto his body. Thick chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, he’s not even broken a sweat.. He doesn’t look angry, that’s the terrifying part. I know from experience that angry men shout, and throw things, and spit. This man just watches in cold, certain, stillness.The groper starts scrambling backward across the carpet, dragging himself away on shaking elbows."I didn’t know," he blurts out desperately. "I sw

The city disappears slowly, neon signs thin out, graffiti-covered storefronts vanish behind dark glass buildings and quiet streets lined with iron gates and trees wrapped in white fairy lights. Then even the traffic begins to disappear until the only sound left is the low growl of Leon’s SUV cutting through the rain.I sit curled against the passenger door with my damp hoodie pulled tight around me, trying not to look at him. It doesn’t work. Every few seconds my eyes drag back anyway.Leon drives one-handed, the other resting loosely against the center console, tattooed fingers flexing occasionally like violence still lives beneath his skin and hasn’t fully settled. The city lights sliding through the windshield paint shadows across the hard lines of his face, catching briefly against the black ink spread across his throat.The moth looks darker at night. Its wings disappear beneath the collar of his shirt, and every time he swallows, the ink shifts with the movement.I hate that I ke

Heat detonates through my entire body, slick wetness pools between my thighs preparing me for his huge length, which is still pressed against my stomach.Want. White hot want is coursing through my veins.Humiliating, aching need that curls low in my stomach and spreads to my clit before I can stop it. My body reacts to him in ways my brain can’t keep up with, and judging by the slow darkening of his eyes, Leon feels every tiny shift in me.His hand flexes against my waist, mine are still gripping the front of his shirt, neither of us moves.The entire house feels suspended around us, silent and watchful beneath the chandeliers while rain lashes softly against the tall windows somewhere deeper inside the estate.I can feel the shape of his cock, my pussy walls clamp around nothing, an irritating, grating sensation that sends a tiny whimper from my lips. This is the terrifying weight of what a man like him could do to me if he stopped holding himself back.“Leon,” I whisper again, but

Leon peels the hoodie slowly over my head, his knuckles brushing my ribs lazily. The movement drags my shirt upward briefly, exposing more skin, and his jaw tightens visibly when he sees it.God, the way this man looks at me should be illegal.“You own any clothes that aren’t falling apart?” he mutters.“Too busy being poor to care.” Every word is breathy and dripping in need.A rough huff of amusement leaves him before he drops to a crouch in front of me.Every particle of oxygen whooshes from my lungs as I look down on his huge frame beneath me. He's so close to my dripping pussy, I am mentally begging him to just slip my leggings down and–His hands slide to my sneakers instead.“You’re soaked through.”He means from the rain, but isn't wrong. Warm fingers wrap round my ankle while he unties my shoe, and the intimacy of it makes my stomach twist violently. A man like Leon Marcello should not be kneeling in front of me taking off my shoes with those huge tattooed hands.It feels bi