Hooked (Never After Series)

His lips are surprisingly soft when they meet mine, not that I’m complaining.

I give in, sinking farther into his hold, his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me tighter as his hand cups my cheek.

My heart soars with his sweet caress, but soon enough, as if the fire licking my veins is reflected in his actions, he deepens the kiss, his tongue prying my mouth open. I moan at his taste, my stomach somersaulting at the way he completely consumes me. Heat shoots through my middle and throbs between my thighs, and I fling my leg over his to a straddle, my center coming to rest directly on top of his lap.

He groans when I settle my weight, his hips pushing into me. I suck in a gasp at the movement, my lips breaking away at the feel of him hard and thick beneath me. His hand drags my face back to his.

I press down, rocking forward, the friction of his length along my slit causing tingles to race through me, my clit swelling as a rush of wetness seeps from my core.

Moving his hand from my cheek, he settles both palms on my hips, guiding my movement as we work up a rhythm, his lips breaking from mine to move down the length of my neck. He bites, sucks, and kisses, and while I’m sure he’s leaving marks, I can’t find it in me to care, too lost in the way he seems to mold me to fit perfectly into every single piece of him.

“You taste so much better than I imagined,” he groans into my skin.

My head falls back, allowing him more access to the expanse of my throat.

“Do me a favor, pet.”

“A—anything,” I stutter out.

“Grind that sweet little pussy on me until you make a mess all over my lap.”

I moan, even though his filthy words send a rush of embarrassment through me. I’ve never had someone speak to me that way. Still, there’s such an enticing command in his tone, one that reaches out and wraps around my body, urging me to comply.

My wetness is soaking through the fabric of my underwear as I chase my high. His length pulses against me, growing more rigid with every roll of my hips. The thought that I’m the one doing that to him, that I’m the one causing him to become so hard, sends a burst of confidence through me, and I double my efforts, something hot coiling in the base of my stomach.

His gaze soaks me up like a sponge, and I close my eyes, imagining what it will feel like with him inside me. My core clenches, aching for something to fill it, even though nothing has been there before.

He leans forward, his lips brushing up the side of my neck, causing goose bumps to sprout along my body. “When you’re all alone in your room, how do you make yourself come?”

I can barely focus on his words, my mind foggy from pleasure, but I get what he’s asking. And for some reason, I trust him to know. So, instead of speaking—something I’m not sure I’m even capable of right now—I show him.

Moving his hand from where it’s resting on my waist, I place it back on my neck. And then I press his fingers in, because I want him to squeeze.

His eyes flare, his arm wrapping fully around my waist and jerking my body flush against him. “Do you like to be choked, darling?” His fingers grip tighter with a thrust of his hips. “Want me to squeeze your throat until you’re on the edge of oblivion and seeing stars?” The pressure increases.

I moan, my eyes rolling as my head tilts back. Pleasure skitters along my skin and rushes through my bloodstream. The truth is that even with my inexperience, I have urges. Nights where I lie in bed, playing out my fantasies in the shadows of the moon. And there’s only been one way I’ve been able to make myself come; by holding my breath until my lungs seize and my mind goes dark.

Maybe it’s stupid of me to allow this virtual stranger to control something so vital as the air I breathe, but for some reason, I trust him.

“Please,” I force out.

He flips us, my body pliable and willing beneath him as he lays me on the cushioned bench. His body looms over me like danger in human form, his eyes dark as he applies the perfect amount of pressure against my windpipe. His other hand glides down my body, lighting up my insides with sparks, his touch like gasoline to the fire in my veins. His palm skims along the hem of my skirt and he slips underneath, running the pads of his fingers right along the crease of my drenched underwear. My hips push against his hand, desperate to feel him touch my skin.

His grasp tightens on my neck at the same moment he sneaks beneath the seam of my panties. “So wet for me,” he says, his fingers coming up and smearing my arousal along the seam of my lips.

My heart skips, my stomach screwing up so tight it may shatter at any second.

“Such a delicious temptation.” He licks the juices from my mouth.

My legs tremble.

And then his hand is back at my core, two fingers spreading me open and slipping easily inside from how soaked I am. I gasp, my back arching at the intrusion.

His face is still next to mine, his mouth laving kisses along my jaw. “So tight. Has anyone touched you here before?”

I’m not sure if he wants me to say no, but the thought of him assuming I’m some untouched flower with zero experience is so unappealing, I can’t find it in me to lie. “Yes,” I rasp.

His eyes darken, fingers twitching against my esophagus. His breath coasts along my ear and down my neck, sending a chill racing along my spine. “No one is allowed to touch you here again.” His fingers pump in and out while his thumb circles slowly against my swollen clit. “I’m a very possessive man, Wendy. And I want you for myself.”

His words should set alarm bells ringing, but all they do is stoke the flames of my passion, making it hard to breathe.

Or maybe that’s his hand slowly increasing the pressure against my neck.

I suck in as deep a breath as I can with his iron vice grip, feeling like I might die if I don’t get to come. My head grows lightheaded as my lungs beg for air, my mind screaming for me to claw at him to try and relieve the pressure. My hand flies up, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the veins of his forearm tensing under my palm. My center contracts.

His grip on my throat tightens as the pressure in my clit pulses and throbs, spreading a tingling sensation through my body. A burn grows through my chest, radiating outward, and darkness rims my vision. And then I explode, my mouth opening on a silent scream, inner walls milking his fingers as if they want to suck him up and never let him leave. His hand immediately loosens, turning into soft, soothing strokes as I suck in mouthfuls of air, my chest heaving against his.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs.

Satisfaction courses through my veins and burrows deep into my chest; warm, and fluffy, and everything good. He moves, lifting my body so he can settle in behind me, and I curl up on him, his large hand stroking my hair and whispering words of praise.

I don’t try to speak, don’t try to think too hard over what I just let happen. How he’s treating me like some type of pet that he’s proud of—or how it makes me feel when he does. I just close my eyes and let this moment be what it is.

And when I wake up, I’m no longer on the deck, and I’m all alone.