Scarred(Never After #2)(85)

She twists her head, glancing around the courtyard as if she can sense that I’m near, and then she locks her gaze on me. I hold her stare, my dick straining and my insides seething with the need to stake my claim.

I want to grab her from his hold and bend her over the hood of my brother’s favorite automobile, flipping up her skirts and impaling her deep on my cock until she screams out my name and gives everyone else a show.

Maybe then he’d know better than to put his mangy hands on her.

I’ve come on her and in her and told her she was mine. Yet he’s the one who gets to parade her around to the world.

And when he leans in, his arm tightening around her waist and bending her backward to kiss her on the lips, I lose it, shooting to a stand so fast that Simon jolts from the movement, my vision blurring to everything except the murderous rage that’s pouring through my insides.





CHAPTER 48





Sara B.





I’ve been waiting for him. I knew it was only a matter of time after Michael bent me backward and pressed his thin lips to mine.

But what I didn’t expect was for him to not show up for hours, until the dead of the night, and then storm into my quarters without even knocking.

“Tristan.” My hand shoots to my chest, the other tightening around my water cup as he rushes across the room with fire in his eyes.

“What are you—”

He walks into me, the glass in my hand dropping to the ground and shattering as he shoves me against the wall, his lips claiming mine in a brutal kiss. I moan, my arms flying up to wrap around his shoulders as he consumes me, his body pressing against mine as he licks inside my mouth, his hands roaming over my sides like he can’t bear the thought of not touching me.

“You let him put his hands on you,” he rasps, his voice tortured and low.

“What would you have had me do?” I whisper back, as he sucks and bites down the length of my neck. I tilt my head to give him better access, my core pulsing with need, his possessiveness spreading arousal through my insides, loving the way it feels to be wanted so desperately by someone with so much power.

“It makes me crazy, Sara.” His grip turns bruising, and then he’s ripping my red nightgown from my body until I’m naked and bared before him, goose bumps spreading along my skin. “I can’t stand it.”

My hand runs down the front of his chest, my heart pounding with sudden desperation to prove to him that no one else has me, that I only belong to him. His nostrils flare as he glares at me, the rings of his fingers glinting as I drop to my knees, reaching out to undo his slacks, my mouth watering at the thought of having his thickness in my hand and on my tongue.

“I’m yours, Tristan.” I rub my palm up the length of his growing erection, excitement skipping through my chest when it hardens beneath my touch.

He fists my hair, the way I know he loves to do, his other hand reaching under my jaw and tipping up my chin until I’m staring him in the eyes.

“Take it out,” he growls.

My center throbs and I slip my hand beneath the waistline of his slacks, underneath his underwear, until I grip his shaft, feeling it hot and hard as a rock in my palm. I run my fingers along him, and he sucks in a deep breath, gripping the strands tight as I pull him from his pants. My stomach tenses as it bobs in front of me, and I lean forward, opening my mouth to devour him whole.

His grasp tightens on my hair and he pulls me back, his hand coming down to grip his own cock, stroking it from the root to the tip.

“You love being on your knees for me, don’t you?” he asks, moving in sure motions up and down the length of himself. I nod, licking my lips as I watch his balls tense and release while he manipulates his flesh. He brings the head of it down and slaps it against the top of my breasts, leaving behind a string of arousal from the tip of his cock onto the top of my chest. The act itself is so dirty that it makes my cunt drip down my legs, desperate to have him fill it.

He rubs the tip in the small puddle he left behind before dragging it up to my neck, repositioning it so it rests on my lips. I can’t help but peek my tongue out and lick up his essence, moaning when the salty flavor hits my tastebuds.

“Open your mouth.” His fingers flex in my hair, drawing my head back more.

I obey. Not because I’m weak, and not because I have no choice; but because surrendering to him makes me happy. Powerful. It’s intoxicating, owning the passion of a man like Tristan, and so I’ll worship him like a god because I know he does the same with me.

I’m his equal.

And right now, I’m his whore.

He slides his cock inside of the open hole of my warm, waiting mouth, hissing as I leave it wide so he can see every inch as it slides inside. My insides flutter and my core tenses, wanting to watch from my knees as he comes apart down my throat.

I’m ravenous for it.

I don’t think I’ll survive if I can’t have it.

His hips thrust forward, the tattoos on his forearms coming alive while his muscles tense. The vein on the underside of his shaft throbs as he slides it along my tongue, and I have to stop myself from closing my lips around him—from sucking him as deep as I can take.

Instead, I wait for him to give me direction; knowing he’ll take what he needs.

His fingers tighten their grip, creating a delicious sting that strikes through my middle and pulses between my legs.