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“Yes, Mick,” she whimpers, wiggling her hips until she’s impaled, then sliding down with a choked cry. “S-so full. I can’t move.”
“I don’t need you to move,” I grind out, my dick in the sweetest agony possible. “Just hold on to my shoulders and kneel right above my cock. Give me your pussy to pound up into.”
Her mouth is open on mine as she moves, spreading her knees wide on either side of my hips, then tilting her body forward. “Like this?”
“Fuck yeah,” I say, leaning back on one elbow and gripping her ass in my free hand, roughing it up, giving it a hard slap. “You like that, don’t you? When I’m a little mean to you in the sack.”
Pink paints her cheeks. “I think so. I liked it the first time.” I slap her backside again—harder—making her gasp. “I like it now. I love it now.”
“Jesus Christ.” My hips start to rocket up into her slick, waiting cunt, my balls swinging up to slap the little ass I’m spanking raw. “Knew it. Knew when you came in front of your daddy, I had a horny girl on my hands.” My pace kicks up, bouncing her on me like a rodeo rider. “Tell Mick you’re a horny brat.”
Her tits are jiggling all over the place with the force of my upthrusts, her puffy lips parted, eyes blind. I’m jackhammering a near virgin and she’s taking it like a professional. God doesn’t hate me after all.
“I’m a horny brat,” she breathes. “M-Mick, I…I think I’m going to…”
Surprise, pride and lust fill my chest up until I’m positive I’m going to burst. “Little miracle, that’s what you are.” I fall back flat on the floor, both of her ass cheeks tight in my grip now as I slam slam slam into her tiny hole, my hips flexing, lifting up and down off the floor. “Go on, baby. Squeeze up on my cock and let go. You’re a horny brat and you can’t help it, can you?”
“No,” she sobs, her neck losing power, my upward drives make her head bob. “Oh. Oh.”
Every part of her tightens at once and I can’t stop myself from flooding her any longer. Hot come claws at my balls with the need to escape, a roar building in my throat. I ache everywhere, like my muscles are locked in a meat grinder. No more, though. No longer, because as soon as she begins trembling and screaming with her climax, I cut my misery loose and let it leave me, giving it to Hailey. “Take it,” I shout through clenched teeth. “Take what I made for you.”
The need to possess…the need to impregnate…rips through my body and before I acknowledge these undeniable needs, I flip Hailey onto her back and pound her cunt like a pillaging Viking, set loose on my enemy’s daughter. I’m rough and demanding, shoving her thighs open as wide as possible so I can plant my seed. And perfection that she is, her fingernails draw blood on my shoulders and she whines my name, her cunt milking me, letting me know she’s just fine being my victim.
Minutes later, I gather Hailey close to me and kiss her to sleep, knowing this could be one of the last quiet times we steal together before the battle.
And then I get up to face it. I’ll face hell for her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hailey
Mick has a smile on his face, but I can sense he’s worried. Maybe it’s the way he looks over at me every five seconds, to make sure I’m still here. Or maybe it’s just the bone-deep intuition that comes with falling in love with someone. He’s rescued me from the tower and stashed me somewhere my father can’t find me, but there’s an air of what now hanging in the air. I’m afraid to find out the answer.
I’m wrapped in a white cashmere robe, snuggled in the most incredible bedclothes, watching Mick pace the floor, occasionally glancing out over the hotel grounds through the curtains. He carried me in here after my bath…and what came after…and I’m too boneless to move. So even though I would love nothing more than to crawl over to my backpack to retrieve my paints, I stay right where I am. There will be plenty of time to paint Mick once we’re in Montana.
Montana. Horses. Space. Friends.
Am I allowed to get excited? Am I allowed to believe this is really happening?
After a long glance in my direction, Mick leaves the room and returns a moment later holding a folded menu. “Let’s get you something to eat, Goldie. Pick whatever you want.”
I sit up and open the menu, gasping over the colorful pictures of pancakes smothered in whipped cream and fruit salads and a whole chicken. “I can’t choose,” I say quietly after a moment wherein I change my mind nine times. “No…I think eggs. And chicken fingers. No. Wait. A burger?”
