Twisted (Never After #4)(88)

“You’re not a whore.”

Her legs push against my frame and then wrap around my back, pulling me into her, my dick lined up perfectly at her entrance, and her eyes lock on mine. “I’m your whore.”

Jesus.

And that’s all it takes to send me off the rails. I push forward with my hips, sliding inside her, her pussy wrapping around me like it was made to fit my cock.

She moans, her mouth gaping and her eyes rolling as her back arches.

I lean down as I start a rhythm, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, going insane with the need to be as far inside her as I can get, my hands pressing hers so harshly into the mattress I’m sure it’s cutting off circulation.

“Harder,” she pants, her hips moving in sync with mine.

I release her fingers, dragging my palm over her hair and down her face until I’ve wrapped it around her throat, squeezing on the sides just enough to lift her off the bed, making her lips hit mine with every forward thrust.

“You take my cock so well, gattina.”

There’s a sheen of sweat on both of our bodies as I fuck up into her, and my heart pounds against my rib cage as I piston my hips, pleasure building at the base of my spine and curling outward until my muscles tense up.

“I’m about to come inside you,” I say, my fingers flexing around her neck. “Fill you up and make sure it sticks, so I can tie you to me in every way and make sure you never leave.”

She whimpers, her legs trembling from where they’re wrapped around my back, urging me forward every time I drive deep inside her.

“Would you like that, amore mio?”

She groans, her mouth parted in ecstasy.

The walls of her pussy clench around my dick, and my balls tighten in response. My other hand finally lets hers go and tangles in her hair, my palm cupping the side of her face tightly. I bend down and press a hard kiss to her lips. “Tell me you want my cum. Beg for it.”

“Fill me up,” she begs. “I need it, Julian, please, I— ”

And then she’s coming, her cunt squeezing and releasing my shaft, a scream escaping from her pouty lips as she plasters herself against me.

Her words are my undoing, the vision of her swelling with my child and being bound to me forever too much for me to take.

My body tenses and then releases in an explosion, and I push myself as deep as I can go, feeling my cock pulse with heavy throbs as I come deep inside her, collapsing my sweaty body on top of hers.

Our hearts syncopate, beating in time, and I rest my head on her chest, her fingers playing in the strands of my hair as I wrap my arms around her.

I’ve never felt so content.

And this feeling? I don’t want it to leave. I won’t ever let it go.

Because it feels like she’s choosing me.

And she’s the only one who ever has.





Chapter 37





Yasmin





I can’t sleep.

My body is sore and my heart is at ease for the first time in what feels like forever. For all intents and purposes, I should be able to rest in my husband’s arms, knowing that he’s actually mine.

Even though how we started isn’t ideal.

I trust him now. I believe what he says when he tells me that he loves me, because the way I feel, the way that we went from hatred to this? There’s nothing else it could be. I thought I loved Aidan, but he never made me feel the way Julian does.

And maybe he’s too dangerous. Maybe he’s all wrong. Maybe I’m being naive for allowing myself to love the man who blackmailed me into marriage, but I’ve spent my entire life being a people pleaser, and I’m done ignoring the darkness inside me that understands everything that Julian is.

And I’m finally taking Riya’s advice and doing something for myself.

Glancing at the clock, I roll out of the large king-size bed where Julian is sleeping peacefully next to me and tiptoe over to where my bag is, picking up my camera. I make my way out of the room and through the common area, sighing as the crisp nighttime air whips across my face as I open the front double doors.

It’s a beautiful night, and I wrap my light cardigan around my arms as I make my way down the small path that leads between the small cottages and start taking pictures of the sky. I’m so lost in the moment, the serene quiet that’s blanketing the air, that I don’t hear the footsteps behind me until they’re right there.

I grip my camera tighter, walking farther down the path and hoping they disappear, but they don’t. My heart shoots to my throat and I exhale heavily before turning around.

Someone’s following me.

But it’s difficult to see in the dark, so it isn’t until I squint my eyes that I’m able to make out their features.

She has bright-blue hair and chipped nail polish on her fingernails, holding something in her hands that’s covered in a dark purple cloth.

“You know, stalking is considered a felony,” I yell.

She ignores me, continuing to move closer until she’s standing directly in front of me.

Her eyes glance from me to the cottage on my left and then to the one slightly in front of us, less than a hundred feet away.

“I’ve watched you today,” she says, her voice low enough that I have to strain to hear. “And I needed to get you alone.”