He leans over me, his chest brushing my back, the heat of him enveloping me as he grazes his lips across my ear. “You’re gonna feel every inch of me, Allie. And you’re gonna take it.”
I shiver as my body aches for the roughness he’s promising.
After sheathing himself, he’s there, the blunt tip of his cockhead pressing against my pussy, teasing but not entering. My hips buck instinctively as I chase him, but he holds me still, one hand firm on my hip, the other tangling in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make me moan.
“Not yet.” That wicked edge is back, the one that says he’s in control, that he’ll break me apart and put me back together. “You want this, you beg for it.”
“Please, Stryker.” The words spill out, desperate, my voice cracking with need. I’ve never begged like this, never let myself be this open, but with him, it feels like the only way to survive the fire building inside me. “I need you.”
“That’s my girl.”
My girl.
I can’t argue. Don’t want to.
A fraction of a second later, he thrusts deep and hard, filling me in one relentless push that steals my breath.
The stretch is overwhelming, a delicious burn that makes my toes curl, and I desperately grab hold of the sheets. He doesn’t ease me into it. His pace is rough, urgent, each thrust driving me forward, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the quiet cabin. It’s primal, unapologetic, and hotter than anything I’ve ever felt, like he’s claiming every part of me, body and soul.
My mind fractures, caught between the pleasure/pain of his rhythm and the emotional weight of what this means. Trust. He’s demanding it, pulling it from me with every movement, every husky bit of praise.
“So hot, Allie. So perfect.” His hand tightens in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to arch my spine farther, exposing me completely. The locket bounces against my chest, its teardrop shape catching the dim light, and his fingers brush it, not pausing, not questioning, but claiming it as part of me in this moment.
I’m unraveling again, not just physically but emotionally, the walls I’ve built crumbling under the force of him. I’ve spent my life running, but right now, I’m not running. I’m here, giving myself to him, and it’s terrifying and exhilarating, like cracking a safe only to find it’s my own heart inside.
“Harder.” I gasp, the word slipping out before I can stop it, because I need this—need him to push me past my limits, to break me open until there’s nothing left to hide.
He doesn’t hesitate. His cock goes deeper, faster, more untamed, and his grip bruises my hips in a way that makes me feel owned, cherished, seen.
Stryker eases his other hand beneath me to find my clit.
With ruthless precision, he circles the tiny bundle of nerves, sending me spiraling toward the edge again.
“Yeah, sweetheart. You’re gonna come for me again.” His eyes are on fire. “And you’re gonna scream my name when you do.”
I try to hold on, to keep some part of myself locked away, but it’s useless. The pleasure builds, relentless, a tidal wave I can’t outrun. My body shakes, my breath hitching as I teeter on the brink, and then he pinches my clit, a sharp jolt that sends me over.
“Stryker!” The scream tears from my throat as I shatter, the orgasm ripping through me with a force that leaves me trembling, tears streaming down my cheeks. It’s not just physical—it’s emotional, raw, like he’s peeled back every layer I’ve hidden behind. I’m exposed, vulnerable, and for the first time, I don’t care. I want him to see me, to know me, even if it’s just for tonight.
He follows me over, his thrusts erratic now, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he buries himself deep, his release pulsing inside me. He collapses over me, his weight grounding, his breath hot against my neck as he murmurs, “I meant it. You’re mine, Allie. Right now, you’re mine.”
The words break something in me, a crack in the armor I’ve worn my whole life. I’m crying now, not from pain but from the weight of it all—the trust he’s pulled from me, the way he’s made me feel safe in a world where safety is a lie. I want to tell him everything—about what’s hidden inside the locket, the fact I have a fob and no idea what it means, who I really am—but I can’t. The man has too much honor not to turn me in like I deserve.
He pulls out slowly, rolling us so I’m curled against his chest, his arms a fortress around me. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin, soothing the bruises he’s left, and I feel the locket pressed between us, a silent reminder of the line I can’t cross. His lips brush my forehead, soft and intimate, and I let myself sink into it, just for a moment, pretending this could be real.
But it’s not. Tomorrow, or the day after, I’ll slip away.
I’ll leave Stryker behind, like I’ve left everyone else. But as his heartbeat steadies beneath my cheek, I wonder if I’m strong enough to walk away from this—from him.
“You okay?” His voice is soft but laced with that protector’s edge, like he’d fight the world to keep me safe.
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah. It’s just…” I search for the right words and come up short, so I settle for, “A lot.” I’m hoping he thinks I mean the sex.
He tilts my chin up, his eyes searching mine, and I see it—the care, the intensity, the man who’s starting to see too much. “We’re not done, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”
The promise in his words sends a shiver through me, a mix of fear and longing. I’m not sure what’s scarier—the men hunting me or the way Stryker’s breaking through every defense I’ve got. But as he pulls me closer, his warmth anchoring me, I let myself believe, just for tonight, that I can stay in this moment a little longer.
Chapter Seventeen
