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“Dermot—”

“Only we get to fuck this little cunt and fill it up.” His voice was filled with a possessiveness I was overwhelmed by. “Every bastard we pass wants exactly that, and none of them will ever get it because they would be dead the minute they even came near you.”

Oh shit.

“Now tell me to fill up this little pussy with my cum,” he commanded. “Tell me you want it between your legs all damn day so that everyone can fucking tell that you are already owned. Already claimed.”

“Please,” I whined.

“I won’t let you come until you say it,” he threatened.

“Please fill me up,” I whimpered. “I want to feel you there, I want it,” I moaned. “I want it dripping out of me.”

I couldn’t even be embarrassed.

“Good,” he snarled. “Now come on this cock and take all of me.”

I cried out his name as his restraint snapped and he began to fuck me like a wild animal, pinning me between him and the wall. He pumped in and out of me until I saw stars exploding on him as I threw my head back and screamed. Dermot roared out my name and leaned into my neck, sucking the skin there hard enough that I whimpered, before pouring his cum into me.

I whimpered as I completely went limp against him, his mouth pressing in the soft space between my neck and shoulder.

“Fuck,” he groaned after a minute. “Goddamn, Dahlia, I have no control with you.”

“Good, I loved that,” I admitted shyly.

When he pulled back and out of me, I winced as he stared down at us, making a pleased, almost feral noise. He put himself away before lowering me to the ground, smoothing my hair back from my shoulders and running his thumb against my neck, a dark flash filtering through his eyes.

“I like that on you.”

I arched my brow. “Seems like you like a lot of stuff…on and in me.”

Dermot let out a sound of agreement. “You trying to get fucked again, baby girl? Keep saying shite like that, and I can guarantee it will happen.”

My eyes went wide. “Not positive that’s a good idea right now… You are really big…”

“We’ve gotta get out of here,” he groaned in response to my words.

I turned towards the mirror, and my eyes went wide, seeing the massive hickey on my neck. “Dermot!”

“What?” He smirked, his grin cocky. “I like it.”

I did also.

“I can’t go out there like this!” I motioned to my neck and then my torn shirt.

“Your clothes are also wrinkled and you smell like sex.” He chuckled softly before looking at my shirt, tugging his jacket off and wrapping it around my shoulders. “Come on, let’s get home and then I can get you back out of this outfit.”

As we left the bathroom, we found the guards standing at the end of the hallway, the coffee shop mostly cleared out. A weird sensation tickled my spine, and when I looked toward the barista, she refused to meet my gaze.

Something was wrong.

It was that guttural instinct.

“Dermot, something is wrong,” I warned.

Our security was walking out, some of them behind us, the moment in time almost seeming to freeze…

Before everything exploded.

My ears rang as everything around me seemed to blow up. I was hit hard, Dermot’s scent mixed with ash and fire surrounding me, as I distinctly heard someone roar out in pain. Everything grew fuzzy around me, a burning in my left leg making me feel almost sick.

Then everything went dark.


Tags: M. Sinclair The Shadows of Wildberry Lane Erotic