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A low growl rises from Zedd’s throat, His fingers briefly tighten around the back of my neck. “Fuck, don’t mess with me, Amelia. I’m this fucking close to losing control, to making you mine in the flesh like I have a thousand times in my mind.”
“I’ve imagined it a thousand times too, Zedd.” My words come out as a strained whisper. So many years dreaming of his fingers stroking my pussy, massaging my tight opening so it relaxes for his cock, him entering me with a dominating thrust, his cockhead blazing through my secret space, opening me so wide I’ll never be satisfied by another man, taking me so deep I’ll always feel empty without him. “Ever since I found out that you watched me from the window. It did something to me, hearing that.”
Zedd’s fingers close tight around the back of my neck. “What? How the fuck do you know about that?” Color darkens his deadly cheekbones. “Shit. Listen, that was just one time.”
There’s a flinch at the end of his sentence. I raise an eyebrow as excitement burns through the seam of my pussy.
“Wasit just one time?” The truth lurks back there in his hungry eyes, and I want to draw it out, hear it for myself. “Just once, Zedd?”
His grip is still firm on the back of my neck. His gaze confidently riveted on mine. “No.” He takes a breath, grunts out an exhale. In his gaze I see that he’s not going to waste any time lying to me. “I watch you from my car every month after my meeting with your dad. I park in the side lot, not far from the courts, wait for you to scamper out there in your shiny tennis shoes and little white skirt. I’m already fucking hard from getting that glimpse of you reading on the balcony outside your father’s office, your feet up on the stool, the curve of your thighs and ass almost blinding me with desire, that hint of your black underwear hiding what I know is mine.”
I almost melt into a puddle of wetness. “You notice me sitting out there?” My heart flutters like a butterfly being tortured. “But you never glance my way.”
“Peripheral vision. Years of training on how to hunt, to stalk, to sneak, creep, capture, fuckingclaim.”
My pussy almost squeaks in shocked pleasure like it’s already been claimed. “Oh, shit, Zedd. That makes me want to . . .” I can’t finish the sentence. “So then you sit in your truck and wait for me to walk to the tennis courts?”
“Yeah, Princess.” Zedd strokes the back of my neck, his lips tightening to a dangerous smile, eyes shining with a potent mix of possession and obsession. I see the hunter in his eyes, feel the stalker in his touch, smell the predator in his scent. He isn’t eventryingto hide who he is, and what’s more shocking than the truth is how my body’s responding to it. “Tinted windows so you can’t see inside. One hand holding my scope to my eyes as you bounce up and down on the hot tennis court, my other hand on my cock like a fucking pervert. I’m not going to bullshit you, baby. I’ve been fucking obsessed for three years. And I’ll be obsessed for the next three hundred. Take it or leave it, this is who I am. This is who I’ve turned into once you came into my life.”
I almost pass out from the blunt, shameless honesty of this man. He’s openly admitting that he’s watched me like a stalker, pleasuring himself in private like a deranged pervert.
And somehow I love it.
The darkness thrills me.
The filth intoxicates me.
I want more.
And I want it now.
“How do you touch yourself?” I ask breathlessly, shocking myself with the boldness of my question, glancing down at his bulge barely hidden by my straw hat. “Show me, Zedd.”
Zedd’s hand on the back of my neck tightens almost involuntarily, like his entire body seized up. There’s a moment where I sense his tremendous strength, realize he could snap my neck without flinching. This man is a killer, a trained assassin, but although the edge of danger is ever-present, so is an overwhelming sense of safety, like this mancouldn’thurt me—not the bad kind of hurt at least.
“Show me,” I whisper again, my voice almost a whimper. I’ve never touched a man’s cock before, and my trembling hands curl into tight fists. “Please, Zedd. I want to make you feel good.”
“Fuck, Princess, you already make me feel good just by existing.” Zedd leans in and kisses me delicately on the lips, sending a shockwave of raw panicked ecstasy through me. “Oh, hell, Amelia. Your lips taste so damn sweet. Better than I ever imagined. And trust me, I’ve imagined those lips a million times. Open that sweet mouth for me, Amelia. Open wide, all the fucking way. That’s it. Good girl.”
He drives his tongue past my trembling lips, palm cupped against the back of my neck, stroking roughly upwards into my hair before fisting my tresses and locking my head in place as he claims my lips and mouth and tongue and throat.
The kiss is hot and thrilling, a first kiss that I know I’ll never forget, will stay vivid in my imagination forever, will be burned into my brain even after I’m dead.
“Oh, Zedd,” I whisper as my hand slides down and rests on his muscular thigh, fingers clawing inwards at my palm as I yearn to feel how hard he is for me.
Forme!
Now Zedd senses my curiosity. His teeth close on my bottom lip, biting gently and then pulling away. His chest expands as he takes a heavy breath. He studies my face for a long moment, then grunts and leans back in his seat, puts his sunglasses back on, takes my hand in his, and guides me down between his legs.
My trembling fingers close around his swollen shaft. He’s so big and hard through his trousers that my fingers are splayed all the way wide. I don’t think I could get my fist even halfway around his erect cock if it were standing straight up. I’m not sure it would fit in my mouth even if I unhinged my jaw. As for my pussy . . . oh, fuck, the thought makes me tremble. But vaginas are designed to stretch, aren’t they?
My pussy clenches as Zedd groans and arches his neck back, gazes over at me as I rifle my hand up and down his sheathed shaft. My lower lip is clamped between my teeth with concentration. I’ve never touched a man’s cock before, and it’s thrilling to feel how hard Zedd is for me. Combined with the thrill of knowing he’s been fantasizing about me from the first time he laid eyes on me . . . oh, shit, I’m soaked through my sundress already, sticky on the seat beneath my butt.
“Lift up your dress for me,” comes his throaty growl. “Spread your sweet thighs. Slump down in your seat so you can spread wide for me, Princess. I want to see your white panties all wet and shiny in the sun.”
My fist tightens on his cock as my pussy tightens between my legs. Zedd’s hands are gripping the armrests so tight his knuckles are white, like he’s trying damn hard not to put those hands on me, like he knows he won’t be able to stop before he ravages me out here in the open, makes me scream so loud the players stop and the referee blows her whistle.
“I said pull your sundress up for me,” comes his command. “Don’t make me ask again, Amelia. I’ll rip it off you, then put you over my knee and spank you so hard you’ll cry. Then we’re both fucked. I’ll go to prison, where your father will get me shanked for spanking his baby girl and bruising her tender ass, spoiling her for every other man. So do what I say quietly, Princess. Push that fucking dress up over your hips, spread those smooth thighs so I can see how wet your little pussy is for me.”
