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“I can’t give it to you until you come on my cock, muse.” He slams into me so hard and deep, his balls slap against my pussy. “Oh, fuck! Briar!”
With my name on his lips, overwhelming pleasure pulses through me and my scream echoes in the library, my grip on the chandelier slipping. It rocks violently over our heads, and my heart leaps to my throat as I start to fall forward. My screams of ecstasy turn to screams of terror, but Saint catches me by the hair, holding my torso up and keeping my hips pinned against the railing while he continues fucking me wildly.
The pleasure is too much, sparklers firing off in my brain. “Saint!” I scream.
He roars at his name leaving my lips, slamming into me twice more before spilling inside me. I yelp with every hard jerk of his cock deep inside my pussy.
His cock slowly slides out of me, taking a rush of cum with him before he peels our sticky bodies apart. We’re both panting, my heart slamming against my ribcage harder than when a madman was chasing me.
“Thank you for not letting me fall,” I pant.
I can’t believe we just did that. That was reckless and stupid and dangerous and utterly euphoric. Every time I think I’ve had the best sex of my life, Saint de Haas blows my mind again.
He presses a heartbreakingly tender kiss against my lips. “I told you you can trust me. I’ll only ever let you fall for me.”
CHAPTER TEN
SAINT
Though Briar will never trust me if I lock her in Nicholson Manor and prevent her from leaving, it takes every ounce of willpower to let her go. To watch her hips and ass sway as she strides out those doors before I drive her back to her house.
Our writing retreat was supposed to be enough. Supposed to be enough to convince her to stay with me. To never leave my side.
Now every second she’s not with me, I’ll be worrying about where she is. Who she’s with. Who’s watching her. Who’s waiting for his chance to hurt her.
Maybe if I hadn’t made the mistake of leaving her at Nicholson Manor alone, maybe if I had been there to kill the intruder who chased her through my own home, she would’ve been willing to stay. She would’ve witnessed with her own eyes the lengths I’m willing to go to in order to protect her.
When I pull into her driveway, a man with salt and pepper hair and a slight hunch to his shoulders is seated on her porch steps.
My hands grip the steering wheel hard enough to tear it from the dashboard. Is this the motherfucker who was chasing her through Nicholson Manor?
He’s gotten bolder. Waiting for her outside her own fucking house in broad daylight.
I’ll rip his head off.
As we come to a stop, he stands and I finally get a clear view of his face.
Fuck.
That can’t fucking be him?—
But it is.
Warren Marshall.
I should’ve known he’d be the one behind this.
Briar glowers at him, and before I can stop her from getting out of the car, she shoves her door open. “Dad? What the hell are you doing here?”
Dad?
Dad.
No. No, there’s no fucking way Warren Marshall is?—
But the man who approaches Briar with a wary smile is missing an ear.
An ear that’s safely stored with my other trophies.
