Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,72

the wall. But we’re still moving, his weight pushing down on me, deliberately sending us to the floor.

I land face down with his body on top of me and his arm around my waist, buffering the fall. I try to pull my knees beneath me to scramble away, but he holds tight to my hips, his free hand clutched around the back of my thigh. Then he yanks up the hem of my mini dress.

Cool air brushes against my bare bottom right before his palm slams down, igniting my skin with fire.

“Fucking…God, fuck!” My arms and legs give out beneath the shocking pain, and my wail echoes through the room. “Why—?”

He spanks me again and again, and the sound of his hand slapping flesh punctuates the ungodly burn. The arm beneath my hips suspends me over his lap, giving him leverage to pommel my ass relentlessly.

I struggle and scream, but after a few seconds, it starts to feel forced, like I’m making myself fight it, deny it, hate it. Only I don’t hate it. With every strike, the pain dissolves into languorous curls of heat. It seeps through my pleasure centers, soothing, stroking, and coaxing my inner muscles into a spasm of need.

In a swift shift of his weight, he rolls on top me, his chest smothering my back and his hand beneath my hips, between my legs, sinking into my soaked pussy.

A gasp fills my lungs, the stretch of his fingers excruciatingly perfect. I don’t want this. I don’t. I can’t…

“Goddamn, you’re soaked.” He grips the ring on my labium and tugs it. “Such a kinky, filthy girl.”

“Not for you.” I kick and writhe, my voice gritty, clawing from the deepest, darkest places inside me. “Never.”

Except my body betrays me, drenching his plunging fingers, clamping down on the invasion, and quivering for release.

I buck my hips and arch my spine, knocking him off long enough to escape on hands and knees. Before I make it to my feet, fingers capture my ankle and flip me over. With a powerful yank, he drags me across the floor on my back and wrenches my thighs apart.

Without panties, I’m wide open and exposed for his greedy gaze. I struggle to get free, but he’s stronger, bigger, his hands impossible to dislodge as he spreads my legs wider.

His gaze meets mine, and I know the instant something shifts inside him. His anger’s still present, but it’s eclipsed by raw, unhinged hunger.

“Don’t,” I whisper, trembling.

Lightning flashes behind his eyes. Then he hoists my lower body off the floor and buries his face between my legs.

My hands plunge into his hair, pushing, pulling, and ripping at the strands. Desire wars with disgust. Anguish begets pleasure, and I’m lost beneath the diabolical swirl of his tongue, torn between wanting him and hating him, aching for relief and despising myself for it.

I need him. I want to hurt him. I yank his mouth against my pussy. Then I shove him away, crying, spitting, “I fucking hate you.”

He licks a path up my slit, breathes deeply against my mound, and looks directly in my eyes. “I love you.”

Bullshit. He’s sick and twisted, and so am I.

As he returns to my center, lapping at my clit and sucking on my piercing, I want nothing more than to come on his tongue. I’m crazed in my need for it, and sweet God, it’s gathering, rising, curling my toes, and bowing my back.

I should tell him to stop, but I can’t. I want—“Oh God, oh fuck, I’m coming.”

The orgasm crashes through me, shaking my limbs and shredding my voice as I moan and pant, my eyes fixed on his, frozen in shock. His mouth continues to grind against me, forcing me to ride his tongue harder, faster, extending the unendurable pleasure.

But as the bliss begins to taper and aftershocks twitch through my nerves, regret sinks in. He just fucked Marlo Vogt, and I let him lick me to climax. He’s no good for me, his intent manipulative, his desire poisonous.

“Get off me.” A sob rips from my throat, and I dig my heels against the floor, attempting to slide away.

He stays with me, crawling between my legs and covering my mouth with his. As his tongue sweeps the tang of my arousal across my lips, I can’t stop thinking about his betrayal and my need to hurt him as badly as he hurt me.

I break the kiss, pushing against him as I sneer. “Can you taste his come? When I sucked