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“This is Stockholm syndrome, isn’t it?” I ask him.
He chuckles.
I find myself less amused. “I’m serious! How often do your captives fall—” I cut myself off. Nope.Fuck off, Freud, and take your slips with you.“Do all your captives end up turning to mush around you?”
He shifts me in his arms so he can look at my face when he speaks. “Just how fucking often do you think this happens?” His voice is low and rough.
“How should I know?”What the fuck am I doing?
“No, Roxanne, it’s not Stockholm syndrome. It’s chemistry, and passion. I can’t get you out of my fucking head, not since the day you crashed into me in Central Park.”
I gasp a little. “You knew that was me?”
“Aye, I knew it was you the first time I saw your beautiful eyes turn green. The same beautiful eyes that haunted my fucking dreams. Do you have any idea how much time I spent with my cock in my hand, picturing your gorgeous lips wrapped around me? I don’t know why this is happening any more than you do, but it’s not a fucking syndrome.” He kisses me then.
It’s frantic, and passionate, and messy. I feel myself getting wet. We turn, and he’s on top of me. I can feel his hard cock pressed against me. Sean kisses down my neck to my breasts, licking, sucking, and biting my nipples. I spread my legs wider, reach my hand between our bodies and start to stroke his cock. When I put his cock inside me, we both moan in pleasure.
He sinks into me in one long thrust and then fucks me like he’s possessed, pushing forward, crushing my legs against my chest. The position forces his cock even deeper inside me, his balls hitting my sensitive bruised ass. It’s frantic and consuming.
When his hand finds my clit, I explode. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me. Sean growls, a deep, primal sound, and I feel his cock swell, hot cum filling me. Sean rolls, keeping his cock inside me, until he’s on his back and I’m straddling his hips. He pulls my face to his and kisses me, slow and deep. I feel his cock slide out of me, his cum dripping from my pussy.
He holds my forehead to his, a hand at the back of my neck. “It’s not a fucking syndrome.”
CHAPTER33
Sean
We officially fucked away the entire afternoon, not that I’m complaining. After we’ve recovered, I pull her to her feet and drop one of my t-shirts over her. It goes down to her thighs. I’m partially disappointed, covering up her naked body, but I’d have to kill any man who saw her naked.
We round the corner into the kitchen and there is a knock at my door. I open it, and find Liam standing there with a pizza box.
“Thank you, Liam.” He hands the box over and leaves. I put it on the island and grab beers out of the fridge. I hand one to Roxanne.
“Pizza and beer?”
“You seem shocked.”
She smiles, repeating her beer bottle-popping trick. “Sorry, just didn’t realize I was inside a college frat house.”
I laugh. “Such a brat.”
“I try.”
I set the TV to internet radio and hand her the remote. She clicks through channels, finally landing on a country station.
“I guess country music makes sense for the girl from Texas.”
She smiles. “Yes, but I really do like most music. Tasha and I used to go to nightclubs all the time. But country does have a special place in my heart.”
“Tasha?” I relocate the pizza to the living room table. We settle onto the sofa.
“My roommate. And my best friend. Actually, if you let me get my computer tomorrow you might meet her. If you want, that is. I mean I can just run in if you don’t.” She looks adorably uncomfortable and takes a large drink of her beer.
“You’re adorable when you’re nervous.”
“I am not nervous.” She gives my shoulder a playful shove, which makes me laugh.
Changing the subject, I ask her, “Did you always want to be a reporter?”
