Page 97 of Pretty Hostage

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“Later,” he promised, his voice dropping low and rough. “There’s something else I need to do with you first.”

His huge hands bracketed my waist, and the world tilted in a way that was becoming thrillingly familiar. I let out a happy sigh, relaxing over Mateo’s shoulder as he carried me back into the house. He cupped my ass, caressing what was his.

I would never tire of his possessive behavior. Picking me up and carrying me wherever he wanted seemed to have developed into a compulsion for him, as though it brought him deep satisfaction to have me in his arms and thoroughly under his control.

I loved it, too.

When we reached our bed, he set me down on my feet, catching me up in a fierce kiss that stole my breath and captivated all my senses. He began stripping me at his leisure, unzipping my dress and deftly unhooking my bra at my back.

I fumbled at his clothes, my efforts to get him naked considerably less smooth. My fingers shook with a rush of heady anticipation, and I jerked at his cotton t-shirt and jeans.

I was fully bared before he was, and his low laugh rumbled into my mouth as he helped me finish removing his clothes.

Raw hunger overwhelmed my brain, and I started licking at the stark, swirling lines of the tattoo that covered his right pec. I pressed a kiss just over his heart, feeling the strong, steady beat beneath my lips. I lavished extra, special attention upon my mark; the delicate flower tattoo he’d ordered designed just for me.

I relished seeing my possessive brand inked into his skin. Mateo had made me his, but he was mine, too.

He cradled the back of my head, inhaling deeply as he held me in place for a few seconds longer, reveling in the feel of me worshipping his body with my mouth.

I shifted, preparing to drop to my knees so that I could worship him more thoroughly. His fist caught in my hair before I could ease down his rippling abs.

“Not now, dulzura.” His voice took on the slow, almost drunk quality that let me know he was just as intoxicated by me as I was by him.

He bracketed my hips, turning my body so that I was facing away from him.

My gut knotted when I saw what he’d laid out on the bed: the set of white, lacy lingerie I’d been wearing when Pedro had abducted me.

I shuddered and pressed back against Mateo, leaning on him for support.

His palm settled at the front of my throat, his thumb stroking the line of my artery in a soothing rhythm.

“I want you to wear this for me,” he rumbled, nuzzling my hair.

“Why?” I asked, my voice small. Just looking at the scraps of lace made my stomach turn. I felt the phantom scrape of Pedro’s knife against my skin as he cut away my dress, laying me bare for his lascivious gaze. A chill raced over my skin, and sweat beaded on the back of my neck.

“I need to see you wearing it while I fuck you,” he responded, the words roughened by his own memories of that awful night. His fingers flexed around my neck. “You’re mine.”

I reached up and pressed my hand atop his, welcoming his hold on my neck. “Yes,” I promised. “I’m yours.”

“I’m going to make the nightmares stop,” he vowed, petting me with his free hand, rubbing his warmth all over my pebbled flesh.

I trembled and pressed deeper into him. He’d woken me up from the grips of three nightmares since he’d rescued me from Pedro. I was blissfully happy with Mateo, but I was still deeply disturbed by what had happened on the Ronaldo family’s estate.

“I don’t know…” I whispered, eyeing the pure, clean lingerie with trepidation. I worried that putting it on would take me right back to that horrific place.

“Trust me,” he cajoled, palming my breasts.

Despite my fear, my body reacted to him, my nipples aching as he tweaked them and toyed with me, drawing out my arousal with a practiced hand.

“I do.” I released a shaky breath, melting into him. “Always.”

He continued to play with me, lavishing me with praise and affection. He retrieved the lingerie from the bed and eased it onto my body, all the while telling me how proud he was.

By the time the white lace covered my breasts and pussy, most of the chill had faded from my flesh. I snuggled as close to my huge protector as possible, seeking his heat and strength.

As soon as I relaxed into his hold, his demeanor shifted. The gentle giant who had caressed me with such tender care was suddenly replaced by the ruthless, demanding lover who reveled in tormenting my body for his pleasure, pushing my limits and reveling in my submission to his most deviant demands.


Tags: Julia Sykes Romance