The growl that leaves me is animalistic, and I tear them from her, earning a gasp. “Wh-what the hell?” she grumbles.
“Shut the fuck up.” I kick her legs apart.
She tries looking over her shoulder at me, but I hold her head down and maneuver her hips into the perfect position. “You just ripped—”
I slam inside her warm, wet heat. “Fuck, yes.” I groan and throw my head back, already feeling the intense satisfaction of being inside her. My hold on her hip tightens, and I let loose, pounding into her with desperation. Her ass bounces off my hips with each frantic thrust, and her pussy clenches around me. The walls of the cubicle rattle with the power behind my surges, and her hands fight to cling onto something as I use her body for my taking.
“Holy fuck. You feel good.”
“Oh god!” she moans loudly, and I move the hand from her head and shove my thumb in her mouth to stifle her screams of pleasure.
The moment she sucks hard around my digit, my eyes roll to the back of my head, and her pussy pulls me in and squeezes me like a vise. “Fuck, yes!” My orgasm shoots inside her bare cunt, delivering a tsunami of thick white cum and complete euphoria.
Why does the woman I hate have to feel so good?
Slowly, I come down from my orgasm, heavy pants fill the air, and when I pull my thumb from her mouth with anaudible pop, I drag the tip down her jaw and over her neck to rub away the makeup she used to conceal my mark.
“Don’t try to cover my marks again, hear me?” Does she not realize by now I want the world to see who owns her?
She swallows, and before she can reply, I slide my cock from her while she remains stoically still.
“Pull your pants up and sort your shit out. You look like a damn whore.” I pocket her panties, the words like acid on my tongue.
Her back bolts straight, and she drags her leggings into position, then spins to face me. “A whore you want to mark and come inside,” she sneers and she tips her chin.
I strike the wall of the cubicle beside her head so hard it shakes, but she doesn’t so much as flinch. “Don’t push me,” I grit out.
“You could just leave me alone,” she suggests, softer this time, the bite in her words now absent.
The thought of leaving her alone makes my chest constrict and anger surge inside me.
No way.
Not possible. I’m addicted to her.
Besides, I need answers.
“Never,” I state. Then I pull open the door and head back to my brothers, but the disappointment on her face stays with me.
Why the fuck do I want her to want me too?
KILLA
She doesn’t realize I’m stalking her up and down the aisle of the supermarket. Watching her every damn move with the kid in tow. She talks animatedly to him, stopping to look at what feels like every damn product on the shelves. It’s like they’ve never been in a fucking supermarket before.
You’d think with how entranced they are with everything, she would have a shopping cart full of items, but she barely has anything.
Did she bring the kid here on a day out or something? I snort at the thought. Poor kid. I know I would’ve hated this when I was little; give me some trees to climb and a bike to fix any day ofthe week.
The old band T-shirt she wears pulls against her chest, and I long to whip it over her head and kiss down her throat toward those delectable tits. Her jeans are ripped at the knees, and they fit her ass perfectly. An ass I want to fuck hard and fast.
Jesus, she’s hot.
Her hair is in a ponytail, and I inch closer for a glimpse of the marks I’ve left on her. Did she attempt to cover them up again, or did she leave them exposed as a sign of my ownership?
She’s taking a while down the next aisle, and when the store guy approaches them, my body coils, and I move, only stopping when I’m behind them.
“The racing green ones only just came back into stock today; all the kids want them.” The store guy speaks with enthusiasm, and when he beams back at her, exposing his pearly whites, I have an overwhelming urge to slam my fist into his face and dislodge their perfect positioning.
