“Yes,” she hisses, throwing her arms around my neck as she starts to move. “Dal…”
There aren’t many who dare shorten my name. Adrian, yeah. And Bas. Connor is too contrary to use anything other than Dallas, while Desmond has such a stick up his fucking ass, I’m surprised he doesn’t call me Mr. Collins these days. But Luce… I’m her Dal. I’m her ‘baby’.
I’mhers.
I nibble on the shell of her air as I thrust up. The seat beneath us squeaks, the leather whining. She bows her body, taking each fuck like she’s made for it, barely noticing it when her back bumps into the steering wheel. She’ll have a bruise later. No matter how much I’ll regret the damage, she’ll tell me it was worth it. Grasping her ass, clutching the fabric of her skirt, I do my best to keep her on my lap to protect her. It feels too fucking good, though, and as I wave goodbye to the last of my control, I hug her to me and bottom out inside of her.
With a soft grunt, Lucy throws out her right hand, bracing herself against the window. She buries her face against my neck, breathing me in, exhaling in rough jags as she takes me.
“Dandelion,” I grate out. For her fluffy white-blonde hair, the way she’s my wish come true, and because a woman like her is striking beauty in something so simple… she’smyDandelion, and I relax my hold on her enough to grip her hips, forcing her to fuck me.
Boneless in my arms, there isn’t anything she won’t let me do, and that includes the moment when I suck her tit through her work shirt, plucking her clit at the same time to help her come right before I spill my entire load inside of her.
With my come dripping out of her well-used pussy, her eyes glazed-over, the color on her pale cheeks high, plus the damp spot on her blouse from the warmth of my mouth…fuckme. I’ve never seen anything so fucking beautiful in all my twenty-five years.
And she belongs to Dallas Collins.
PROLOGUE, PART II
DALLAS
The windows are fogged, the cab still full of our body heat even as the early autumn night is quick to cool it, and all I want to do is pull Lucy back onto my lap so that we can go for round two.
The moment I came, she nuzzled her face against my neck, breathing me in as she shuddered gently. I held her as long as she let me before she slid her hand between us, pressing her trembling fingers against the fabric of my sweat-slicked t-shirt as she pushed back.
I know the sign. Can’t say Ilikeit, but I know it and I lean into the seat as she climbs off of me, easing into hers. Even so, my hand lingers where it shouldn’t—reaching over the console, I lay my palm beneath the bunched-up material of her skirt, searching for her skin—like if I let go of her completely too fast, she’ll disappear from my sight. She’s still struggling to get her breath back, pretty blonde hair mussed from my fingers tugging through the waves, cheeks flushed in that way that still knocks something loose in my chest every time no matter how long we’ve been together.
She buttons her blouse carefully, fingers steady even though her breathing isn’t. That’s my Lucy. My Dandelion. My fucking wish come true… look at her, sitting ramrod straight in her seat. Forever composed on the outside, even when she’s breaking in half on the inside. I watched her shatter as I had her writhing on my cock, but now that we’ve finished, you’d never know it.
I don’t say anything as she pulls on her clothes the same way someone would don armor. I just continue to watch her, greedy and craving her so badly, it’s like I didn’t just fuck her until she was crying out my name. Shit. My jeans are still down by my ankles, the waist snagged on the gas pedal, my spent cock nestled against my thigh as the chill from the late night begins to seep in, but all I want to do is bend her over the dash and do it again.
Outside the windshield, this side of Harmony Heights looks like a fucking postcard under the gleam of the moonlight. Trim lawns. Quiet streets. A town that smiles while it strangles you, and far enough away from the Fortress where Jack Collins rules over his domain.
KingJack Collins, lord of the Order of the Owed.
My bastard of a father.
If Lucy’s obvious need to get dressed so quickly after I defiled her again doesn’t kill my growing hard-on, just thinking of Jack does the trick. Keeping her attention on what she’s doing, Lucy checks the position of her stockings before smoothing her skirt. Only then does she glance at me, her lips curving into a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach her storm-grey eyes.
Swallowing a sigh, knowing what she wants from me, I jerk my jeans up from the floor of the Ford 150. Lifting my ass from the driver’s seat, I shimmy the denim up before tucking my semi in so that I can button up.
Her lips twitch in a small smile that has me pausing with my fingers on the zipper. I turn, looking at her,peeringat her.There’s a hint of sadness in the curve of her lips, there and gone again.
I raise my eyebrows, a silent question.
She shakes her head. “You almost ready?”
To see her walk away from me? Not really. Oh, I’ll enjoy the view. Watching her skirt sway, her tight ass moving as she disappears through the woods that separate her side of Harmony Heights from mine… but knowing she’s going to the house she shares with two roommates who would rat her out in an instant if they knew about me while I have to return to the Fortress to wash her off of me before Jack figures out where I’ve been… it’s a double-edged sword.
When I’m inside of her, Lucy Wright belongs to me. As soon as the vice-grip of her pussy has released my dick? I wonder how I’ll ever be able to keep her.
Maybe if I wasn’t Dallas Collins that wouldn’t be a problem. From the first beating my old man ever gave me—that I remember—I knew that being Jack Collins’s boy came with expectations. I was four, and I told him I wanted to stay over with my aunt and uncle and Adrian. I didn’t want to go to a boring old Order meeting.
I told himno.
If my mother hadn’t interfered, taking the last of the blows herself, Jack might’ve killed me that night. For the next ten years, there were other beatings that were just as close, but one day he looked at me and realized that, sooner or later, I’d be strong enough to fight back.
Jack never hit me again. He sure as fuck didn’t lay a finger on my mother in front of me. I was fourteen, and when Jack looked in my eyes, he saw what he’d created. An angry, bitter teen who didn’t care if he lived or died. He didn’t quite break me, and he wasn’t sure if I’d be the successor he deserved, so he did something even worse than punch me in the face.
