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To save her life.
“I guarantee if I slide my hand between your legs, you’ll be dripping wet,” I say, continuing my script.
“No, you can’t. No, I—” Izzy starts, but she’s panting and I’m losing my own sense of control, so I lean close to her face and grip her chin.
“You wantmeto touch you or those fuckers out there?” I growl, starting to get to the heart of the danger she’s in.
“You,” she answers quickly, trembling in fear and lust.
My cock seems to be as naïve as Isabelle and starts to twitch in my pants as if it’s been given permission. Next thing, my hand is sliding north and tugging her legs apart.
“Move your panties,” I order her and she obeys.
I keep telling myself I’m doing this to keep her alive, but I’m not sure that’s true anymore.
“Good girl,” I growl, then hold back a string of curses as my fingers slip inside her soaking wet flesh.
Jesus, fuck.
Isabelle closes her eyes and lets out a whimper that shoots straight down my cock. I spread her juices and find her clit as my mouth slams down on hers. When she opens for me, I thrust two fingers inside her and we both moan.
Goddamn it. I didn’t want her to feel this good.
Like fucking good.
Maybe it’s the obligatory protective role my father instilled in me, or perhaps it’s because she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Still, in that moment, as our bodies connect, everything changes.
Every fucking thing.
Isabelle Walton is mine to protect.
Not to keep, but while she is under my protection, she’s...mine.
I slide my hand from her panties and step away. Isabelle gasps as her dress falls back down and I let out a deep moan when the needy arousal in her eyes begs me for more.
Then she blinks and surprises me by slamming her fist onto my chest. “You asshole. You can’t do that. I...I...I can’t...”
Can’t?
I’m not sure she knows what she is talking about. She most certainly can. And if it wasn’t for my self-control, I would’ve had my mouth on that wet flesh and, not long after, my cock sliding inside her.
“Stop,” I growl. “You cannot fight, or worse than having your pussy licked could happen. Do you understand?”
“No. I don’t,” Isabelle says. “I don’t want any of it. And I don’t want you.”
Liar.
“Well, darlin’, you are here. And I’m trying to keep you alive,” I reply, my Texan drawl coming out. “So, play the game, and if you want me to make that soaking pussy of yours come, you will do as I say.”
“I don’t—” Isabelle starts, but I slam my mouth down on hers and pull out my Glock.
I hold it next to her face.
She’s too sassy. I need her to be more scared and compliant, or her mouth is going to get us killed.
Her eyes dart to the metal and she gasps, looking like she’s about to pass out.
But she’s silent.
