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“I won’t.” My eyes watered more. “Not if it means saving you.”

Stratton let out an unsteady breath, putting his head down. “Fuck, Dahlia.”

“I love you.” My voice cracked. “I love you, and I’m not going to apologize for it. You have always protected me, and I am going to do anything I can to keep you safe in return.”

“I can’t lose you,” he mumbled several times, looking like he was working himself up. “I can’t fucking lose you, angel. You almost died. You almost ripped out my fucking heart and died…for me. You can’t…Dahlia, promise me you will never do that again. I don’t care if I have to lock us in a goddamn bunker for the rest of our lives, promise me that you will never do that.”

The anguish in his eyes was enough that I finally gave in, “Okay, okay, I won’t.” He let out a sound of relief, burying his nose against my throat as I let out a small sob. When he pulled back, anguish filled his expression, his eyes red rimmed. I gripped his face and he let out a shuddering breath while pressing me down into the bed, as if shielding me from everything and everyone.

“Stratton,” I whimpered.

His lips trailed along my jaw before meeting my mouth again, his grip on me hard and unforgiving. “Angel, I never want to let you out from underneath me. Never fucking again—”

“I don’t want to be anywhere else,” I responded breathlessly, causing him to let out a low rumble. I saw his eyes flare with heat, his energy almost frenzied, like a chaotic, raging storm, because of what I’d done. I let out a moan as he rolled slightly to the side so that he was able to grip my throat and sear a hard kiss to me. I shuddered against him as he brought his knuckle against my pussy, and I let out a moan at how quickly the adrenaline in my body switched to heat.

“Fuck.” His voice was almost uneven. “I’m sorry, angel—”

“I need you.” I tugged at his pants, feeling frantic. Stratton sat back and allowed me to push down his sweatpants as I took his hard length in my hand. He let out a nearly feral sound as he pressed a hand to my chest so that I laid back down. His fingers coasted against my wet heat before he tugged the side of my sleep shorts so he could line up right with my center.

“Sorry, angel,” he hissed against my lips, completely covering me as he surged forward. I cried out his name as he filled me, causing my body to jolt at the invasion of his length. I squeezed my legs around him, the pinch of adjustment causing me to string my fingers through his hair and pull slightly.

“I have to get the edge off,” he admitted in a low growl. “I’m so sorry for taking you this way—”

I let out a cry of his name as he began to piston in and out of me. I felt the adrenaline crash with the relief of him being okay, tears welling in my eyes as he kissed me hard, the tears seeming to only intensify the moment. I didn’t think twice as he gripped my hands and tugged them above my head, his entire energy dominant and all-consuming.

I felt the shift as he stared down at me when he completely snapped.

He groaned, continuing to hit that deep, white-hot pulse of pleasure that was so acute it was almost painful. “Angel, you are not allowed to leave me. Ever. Do you understand? Tell me you will never do that—”

“Stratton!” I called out.

“No, tell me,” he growled, gripping my jaw hard. “I want to hear it again. Promise me.”

I whimpered at the hard heat in his gaze and how on edge he seemed. “I promise, I promise,” I tried to get to his lips again but he growled, shaking his head and instead pulling out and slamming back into me.

“No, angel, not right now. I fucking love you, but I’m goddamn livid. You tried to leave me, so you are going to take me, fully, and then maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

My climax slammed into me at his words as he surged in and out of me, using my body in a demanding way that somehow still made me feel euphoric. He needed this. I could feel that he needed to feel in control.

“This is mine,” he growled, finally bringing his lips down to mine, “all of you is mine, Dahlia. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I breathed out.

“Who owns this little pussy?” he demanded, his energy wild and intense against my own as I felt myself completely melt, the submissive edge to our relationship fully blossoming in me. I wanted this man to own me.

“You do, Stratton.”

His kiss was hard, and his pumps were wild and his movements frantic. I let out a scream of his name when he finally slammed into me, and I was left a panting, whimpering mess underneath him, my climax causing a warm, molten sensation to roll through my veins. I felt my eyes close as he grunted, pressing his forehead against my own.

“Angel.” His voice was pain-filled. “I’m so sorry—”

“No.” I swallowed, catching my breath. “I loved that…I needed that. I feel better. Safer.”

Stratton grunted and lifted me from the bed, walking me towards the bathroom. I was in such a haze that I didn’t even notice we were in the shower until the hot water slid against my skin. Stratton held me to him possessively, and I could feel the tension draining from his body, his mood stabilizing. I could tell that this, especially after the punishing way he had taken me, was making him feel far better. I let out a happy hum, feeling exhausted as he finally dressed me in warm, comfortable pants and a hoodie before drying my hair.

“We need to leave.” The voice came from the door, surprising me.

Stratton let out a low rumble at Lincoln’s words. “I’m not letting her leave this room until we are ready to take off. Too goddamn dangerous.”

Yates’s voice was sharp as he joined the conversation. “The helicopter is ready. We have no idea if there are any more of them coming. We are leaving now.”

I didn’t have a moment to even blink before Stratton had me in his arms and was striding through the doors of the house, past a ton of guards. A weird nagging sensation went through my head as Owen, the head of security, caught my gaze, but I couldn’t focus on it, and all too soon we were out back. By the time we were all on the helicopter, I could see tension running through the group dangerously.

“How did they get in?” Stratton demanded.

“We think it’s someone from the security team. We have been cleaning house, but someone is pulling fucking strings.”

King was sitting there, frozen, staring at my face with an expression I couldn’t read. It would have intimidated me, but instead I just held his gaze back and spoke softly. “Where are we going?”

“Home,” King answered. “We are going home, princess.”


Tags: M. Sinclair The Shadows of Wildberry Lane Erotic