Hooked (Never After, #1)(70)

Slowly, I ease out before pushing back in, the power of my hips matching the surge of my emotion, making me delirious with the need to get as deep as I can.

I lean down, my tongue licking along the shell of her ear. “You’re so perfect. Feel so fucking good.”

She groans, her fingernails digging into my shoulder as her hips rise to meet mine.

There is no exchanging of power here, no demand for obedience or a need to keep everything under my control.

There’s just Wendy.

Only ever Wendy.

Doing what she does best; consuming every part of me.

My torn-up heart rattles against its blackened cage, beating just for her, hoping she’ll learn to love it through the dirt.

“Again,” I demand.

“James,” she moans.

I bite my lip, my insides raging with heat as my hips piston into her, balls slapping against her ass with every inward stroke. “I want you to tell me that you’re mine.”

She cries out as I change the rhythm, my cock seated fully inside of her, my hips grinding against her clit.

“I’m—”

I cut her off with a kiss, needing her to understand what I’m asking. “I want you to tell me, but not because I say to, not because I ask.” I drop my head in the juncture of her neck, my breathing shallow and hot, my orgasm building deep in my gut as I pull out then slide back in, rotating my hips against her. “I want you to say it because you are mine. Because you’re going to stay, even though we both know you should leave.”

Her breathing stutters, her hands framing my face as she stares deep into my eyes. “I’m yours, James.”

Heat bursts inside my chest, and I pick up my pace, her words pouring into my soul and filling up the cracks in my heart.

The sound of our skin slapping mixes with her moans until she tenses and then explodes. Her pussy walls clench around me, urging my balls to tighten, my muscles seizing until they ache. Cum pulses through my shaft, my cock jerking wildly inside of her as I coat her womb with my seed.

I collapse on top of her, breathing heavily, my mind finally at peace.

It’s in this moment that I know, as crazy as it seems, that I love her.

And that terrifies me more than anything else ever has.





39





Wendy





I’m in front of the mirror, adjusting the ill-fitting clothes Moira bought since what I was wearing is now shredded on the floor—something I’ve noticed James loves to do. My eyes flicker to him through the mirror as he stands behind his desk. He’s finally washed the blood off his arms and is now buttoning up his shirt, covering the scars that mar every inch of his torso. My heart twists, wondering how they got there, and feeling a heavy sense of purpose, knowing that he let me see.

He opens a drawer and pulls out a gun, slipping it behind his back in the waistband of his pants, before grabbing his suit jacket and sliding it up his arms, buttoning it in the front.

My abs tense at the sight.

“You’re really too attractive for your own good,” I say.

His head snaps up, a grin sneaking on his face as he saunters over, stepping behind me and pressing kisses to my neck.

“James?” My heartbeat pounds in my ears.

I’m not sure where we stand, part of me feeling as if I’m balancing in the middle of a teeter-totter, unsure which way it’s going to shift.

“Hmm?” He hums against me.

“Can I…” I spin around, my hands resting on his chest. “I want to see my brother.”

He nods. “Alright.”

Relief pours through me. “And…” I bite my lip. “I’d like my phone back.”

“Done.” His brow lifts. “Anything else?”

“And I want you to tell me you weren’t with Moira,” I rush out, heat singeing my cheeks.

He pauses. “Ever?”

I cringe. “Well, obviously not now. I know you’d be lying.”

His fingers tilt my chin up until I’m staring into his eyes. “I haven’t been with Moira, or any other woman, since the moment I touched you.”

I blow out a deep breath, my stomach slowly unraveling from where it’s tied itself into knots. “Okay.”

His lips twitch. “Alright.”

“Okay,” I say again.

“And just so we’re clear.” He presses his thumb into my chin. “If someone else touches you, I’ll cut off their hands so they can never touch anything again.”

My chest spasms. “You’re so violent.”

He grins. “It’s just who I am, darling.”

“Am I? Are we… I’m not still being held…”

“Wendy, you’re free to do as you wish. Your father, he—”

“No, I know,” I cut him off, not wanting to talk about my dad, the wounds still too fresh.

“You don’t.” He touches his side, where the jagged scar mars his skin. “This plane crash?” His nostrils flare. “It was on one of your father’s flights.”

I gasp. “What?”

He shakes his head. “This isn’t the place to talk about this, darling.”

Irritation flares in my gut, not wanting to be brushed off, the way I always have been when I’ve wanted to know what was going on.