She hates me.
My girl’s tough. She put up with all my bullshit until I had to let her go and act like she wasn’t the only good thing in my life. I never got over it. I never got over her. But I pretended like I did to keep her safe. Until she tried to move on with some bastard who thought he could have her for himself. Could make her happy again after I almost destroyed her. Now I’m back. I know her secrets, and she knows mine. What kills me is that she doesn’t believe me. Doesn’t care what I say or do. But I’ll prove to her she can trust me. No matter what it takes, I will get her back. She’ll forgive me. And, even if she doesn’t, she’ll still be mine.
Sharp teeth nip at my bottom lip. Shutting me up. Halting my sincere expression. She doesn’t want me to speak? Fine. I’ll prove myself to her with my actions if not my words. My hand slides under her left thigh, lifting her leg to have her angled as close as possible, and plunge into her. Twisting side to side, putting my full weight on her clit the way she loves.
A smug jackass smile covers my face from her breathless gasp. She rotates with me. Getting the friction she needs. Getting off on the pressure. Getting there quick because of me. Because I fucking know what she likes. I fucking know what she needs. Not that son of a bitch.
Fucking glorious to hear her cry my name while she convulses. Wracking her petite body with an enormous orgasm. I nuzzle her neck, sucking in the delicate skin, because the next one is going to be just as huge. “Hook up, angel.”
The sick bastard in me loves the flicker of fear in her wide eyes when they pop open. She knows exactly what’s going to happen with my growl in her ear. She’s going to get all the fucking proof she fucking needs. Obeying my command, her legs wrap around my hips while her arms coil around my torso. Bringing out the animal in me from her absolute submission. Rewarding her with what she wants for her deference.
I don’t hold back.
I fuck her hard.
Caging her head between my forearm and chest while I palm her ass cheeks with my huge hand. Thrusting again and again, I’m half on my knees and deep in her pussy while she clings to me. Grasping my drenched body with all her strength. Slippery from the exertion of working to make her explode underneath me. Saturating us with the addictive scent of her arousal mingling with my own salty release.
Unable to touch her stunning face, I kiss the top of her head. Silky, damp hair tickles my lips. The flowery essence so wholesome and innocent. A reminder of how easily and often I fuck things up between us. Sex doesn’t equal love. I fucking know this, but I must reach her. Own her. Consume her. Pounding into her over and over until her heaving breaths burst into a cry of pleasure, pushing me beyond the edge with her. My balls tighten up into my body, and I let loose. Erupting with every ounce of come my cock holds barring down in her. “God fucking damn.”
Incapable of withstanding the force, she untangles from me and drops back to the soaked sheets. I follow, wrapping my arm around the back of her neck and pinning her immobile against me while I collapse onto my hip. Probably scaring the fuck out of her from the side of my fist wedged against her temple. From the ferocity of my hold. The veracity of my tone. But I don’t give a damn. “Don’t – for even one fucking second – ever think I don’t love you.”
Nikki writes contemporary romantic thrillers and admits to a weakness for alpha males and bad boys, especially ones who can’t live without the strong women they love. She spends more time in her characters’ lives than her own. But, when she’s in the real world, her passions include reading, wine appreciating, running, and spending time with her husband and daughter.