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“Yes,” I whispered, envisioning the chain that would be attached between them.
Lachlan rolled his fingers down my spine, attaching them to my hips once again. As he fucked me, I was pitched forward several times. His actions were savage but beautiful, allowing me to remain in the heightened state of bliss. He pounded into me harder, faster, cracking his hand against my buttocks several times. Every sound from his mouth was guttural, the husky tone drifting down my back to my legs.
I sensed he was close, so close, his muscles tensing.
In the next few seconds, my heart seemed to explode from the closeness we were sharing, the intensity of our connection.
“Mine. Mine. Mine.” The three little words were nothing more than growls, but the beautiful sound of his voice brought tears to my eyes.
As he erupted deep inside, his body spasming as he released, my heart sang from the realization that I finally belonged.
To an amazing man who’d already become my master.
CHAPTER22
“The battleline between good and evil runs through the heart of every man.”
—Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
Lachlan
There was no reason for me to be thinking of my father on a glorious sunny late morning. It was not only strange to me but telling as well. I’d been fearful of becoming my father most of my life. The truth was I couldn’t run away from who or what I was. As I studied Lark lingering over a cup of coffee, wearing a tee shirt and a pair of shorts, I felt like the luckiest man alive.
However, there’d been a moment, a flash of what some would call evil, where I knew I was capable of killing anyone who dared try to hurt her. I was capable of doing so with my bare hands. I wasn’t immune to bouts of rage or even fights. During my youth, I’d threatened my share of people to keep control. While the years had softened the fury, the fine line between good and evil increasing, I felt a backslide given the recent events.
There was no reason why other than my gut instinct. Even as I tried to shove the ridiculous thoughts aside, the nagging remained.
Lark tipped her head, smiling at me in her provocative way. She seemed more serene this morning, her legs curled under her as she studied the soft, rolling grass and the flowers that had started to bloom. Having her here in my house seemed natural. Sighing, I sipped my coffee as I checked email. At least nothing abnormal had occurred overnight. Why did I continue to have the feeling this was the calm before the storm?
She had her laptop in her hand, saying nothing as she flipped through site after site. Thankfully, I had the feeling she was leaving the case alone. I chuckled wondering how long it would last. As I sat back, I allowed myself to take a deep breath of the fresh morning breeze for the first time in as long as I could remember.
“Were you serious about the piercings?” she asked, the out of the blue question heading straight to my cock.
I leaned over, sliding my hand under her shirt. The moment I pinched her nipple, she pursed her mouth, the single moan boosting my desire. “I meant it. Your clit too.” After pinching her hardened bud, I allowed my fingers to slide to the waistband of her shorts, pushing my hand against her stomach and down further.
“You’re so bad.” She tried to brush my hand away, but I rolled the tip around her still swollen clit.
“Every inch of your body belongs to me. You seem to forget that.” When I pulled my hand away, she shuddered visibly.
“I love that thought.”
She bit her lower lip, and I could tell she was thinking about the piercings. So was I.
“Maybe I’ll have that done prior to the wedding.”
Lark gave me a heated look, shifting her legs before returning to whatever item she was glancing at on her computer.
How long had it been since I’d felt some all-consuming peace? I took another sip of coffee, no longer needing the jolt of caffeine. Her presence kept the juice flowing.
When she jerked up, planting her feet on the patio, I tossed a look her way. The twisted expression on her face immediately put me on edge. “What’s wrong?”
“A report on the news. Ernest Davidson was found dead late last night.”
As she slowly lifted her head, I sensed she was questioning whether or not I had anything to do with his death. I gritted my teeth, scooting my chair closer as she turned the laptop in my direction. “Murder suspected,” I said after reading the short article.
“What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know but if I was a betting man, I’d say someone is trying to clean up loose ends.”
