Deep (Chicago Underground #8)(43)

The sound of a zipper ripped through the air. I wanted to see him, touch him. Taste him the way he had tasted me. But I knew I could only take what he gave me, only stay where he put me.

Something blunt and hot nudged my sex. “Mine,” he whispered darkly.

No condom.

And maybe I wouldn’t have noticed if we had been in that alley at night or even the shadowed backseat of his SUV. It would have all seemed perfectly surreal, completely surreal—like a dream, the edges blurred and dark.

Except the moonlight streamed in from tall windows and spongy carpet squeezed between my toes and the silky fabric felt as smooth as water underneath my hands. This was all too real, too luxurious and lush to have come from my imagination. I wasn’t made for this world, so sharp and bright, built from Philip’s cold heart and iron will. My body was too soft, my skin too thin. And I could lose too much.

“Wait,” I said hoarsely.

He sounded like his teeth were clenched. “You have five seconds to give me a good reason why I should—and then I’ll be so deep in you, you won’t be able to think anymore.”

“Protection,” I burst out. “We need protection.”

There was a pause. A softly spoken curse.

And then he did something that made me burn. Hips thrust forward. His cock pressed inside me, slowly, inexorably. Hands spanning my waist held me still.

“What are you doing? Philip!”

“No, kitten,” he said low. “You don’t get to decide. Not where and not how. Not even this. If I want to f*ck you until you’re full of my seed, you can’t stop me. Can you?”

A note of challenge edged his voice, as if he wanted me to fight him—but he was right about one thing. He was so deep inside me, I couldn’t think. Couldn’t think about the right words to make him understand. Couldn’t think about all the implications of this act. Couldn’t think of anything except being full of him, his thick cock pulsing against my walls. My body spasmed in response, a question that was answered when he pulled back and thrust in again—no mercy. No time to grow used to him. My body was forced to stretch around him.

A faint panic thrummed underneath my arousal, muted beneath the sensations of his body in mine. “Wait. We shouldn’t… You don’t want…”

Another slap against my hip, and I yelped. “Don’t tell me what I want,” he said roughly. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you asleep in my house, like a f*cking present Shelly had brought me.”

I made a rough sound of denial.

“You think that’s f*cked up?” he asked, pulling out and thrusting back in again. “Because it only made me hotter to think about you like that, that she’d picked you out just for me. That I could do anything I wanted to you, because you were already mine.”

Tension coiled deep inside, past hurts colliding with cruel pleasure. “Why wait then?”

With another man I would have known the answer. I’d been underage then. A broken little girl. But Philip didn’t have morals like other people. If he wanted something, he took it.

“I don’t know,” he said, his breath turning short, labored. “Sometimes I thought I would let you go. Sometimes I wondered if that’s what it meant to care about someone, letting them go.”

But he was deep inside me now, his cock pressing farther and faster on every thrust.

His hand fisted in my hair and pulled me up so that my back was flush against his chest, neck exposed to the room as he tilted my head to the side. He spoke against my neck, pressing openmouthed kisses down the line and across my shoulder. “I couldn’t leave you alone, though. Couldn’t stop watching you, couldn’t stop touching my cock and imagining you sucking it.”

The next thrust came in a different angle, hitting a place inside me that had me crying out. A gush of wetness heated his cock, a drop sliding down my leg.

“Then you were in danger again, your f*ckhead of a father putting you both in danger. Your brother gone. You would have been next. And I thought, good f*cking riddance.”

His hands tightened—one on my hip and one in my hair. It was the only warning I had before he slammed into me, his cock a blunt weapon against that tender place inside me—I sobbed his name. “Philip, wait. Wait. It’s too much.”

“Except that’s a lie,” he continued in a low voice. “I didn’t want to care, but I went straight there anyway. Got f*cked up on the way—and that’s what I should be focused on. Who the f*ck would send someone to jump me? If I’d been thinking straight, I could’ve kept him alive, forced him to talk.” He was angry now, furious. “But I was too f*cking worried about you, so I snapped his neck and showed up at your door.”

Oh God. He’d killed someone that night, because of me. I’d known it, but it was different now that his hands were on my bare flesh, hands that had killed. Hands that had defended me in the most ancient, undeniable way. I shivered.

“That’s right,” he said, almost approving. His cock pulled all the way out, just the tip notched inside me, before slamming back in. I cried out again, and another gush of wetness coated his cock. “That’s who you’re letting inside your body. That’s who’s going to come inside you.”

Not that. This was risky enough, but if he came inside me… “Wait.”