When her breath catches and her expression turns heated, I tighten my grip. Fuck, she’s pretty. Dark eyes, soft lips, that little smirk curling up her face, encouraging me.
With a step forward, I back her against my cruiser and pin her there. “I’ll bet you, oh, I don’t know, twenty grand or so, that I can make you just as wet as I did last night.”
Grace says nothing. Rather than give me the satisfaction of a response, she looks at me with defiance.
Provoking me.
But there’s trust there too. It’s misplaced, but it’s there. Trust I shouldn’t take advantage of. She’s miles from town. Handcuffed on a dark road with a man she barely knows. If she had a clue about the shit I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt, she’d probably be a little more apprehensive about how close I’m standing to her right now.
With one hand firmly at her throat, I use to other to explore the expanse of her midriff, down the curve of her hip and then lower to the bare skin below her skirt.
In seconds, her breath is hitching and her chest flushing.
My touch is light at first, feathering up her thigh, testing her, seeing how high she’ll let me go. Goose bumps chase my fingers, the pulse at my thumb kicking up as I move higher.
She swallows, trying to tilt her head, to focus on my wandering hand. But I keep her how I want her. Locked in place, eyes staring into mine. Tightening my hold on her neck, I tread my fingers up, meeting her hemline, then trudging past it. As I hit the apex of her thighs and flirt with the edge of her panties, her eyes widen and her pupils blow out.
“Linc,” she rasps, squirming against me, edging closer.
I’m right there. One small shift, and I’ll slip under the thin barrier of material, my fingers finding the warmth of her pussy, the wetness I know is soaking her panties.
“Now would be the time to tell me to stop.”
I’m about to cross a line. I’m in uniform, on duty, and she’s handcuffed and in my custody. Not to mention my history with her family. That I’m related to her brother. That my biological father raised her. The blackmail, the leverage, the gun she pointed at my dick. That she fired into my ceiling. The fact that, in the short time I’ve known her as a grown woman, I’ve seriously considered strangling her. On more than one occasion.
Despite all that. I’m thinking I might want to fuck her.
“Grace,” I say again.Tell me to stop. Just fucking say it.
She opens her mouth, but when no sound comes out, I lean in, squeeze harder, toy with the elastic of her panties.
“Was I right? Is your sweet little cunt dripping for me?”
The edge of her mouth tilts up. “See for yourself.”
With a grunt, I kick open her legs and slide my fingers into her panties.
And fuck.Fuck.
Grace is wet.
Dripping. Fucking. Wet.
A quiet gasp escapes her, her eyes darkening further.
“Shit, Gracie.” I trace over her slit, parting her lips, relishing the way she drenches my skin.
She swallows, throat bobbing against my palm.
I tighten my grip and study her expression, the desire painted across her face. The fire in my veins rages as I take in every detail of her. Wound up, restrained, wearing my hand like it’s her favourite necklace.
It’s a beautiful fucking thing. The submission, the vulnerability. It feeds the darkness in my soul, a blight that’s been growing inside me since that night, since I first took a life. It’s who I’ve become. A man whotakes. I take dirty money without guilt, I take lives without thought. And now Grace. In this moment, she’s mine to take.
Easing the pressure on her throat, I tilt up her chin. “I’m gonna need you to come on my fingers, Grace.”
I plunge inside her, and a ragged gasp slips from her mouth.
“And if I don’t want that?” she whispers.
