Taken

by Jennifer Dawson

  “I’m sure she is.” He laughs. “It’s not like I didn’t do some pretty stupid things with Jillian.”

  I return my attention to him, and nod. “True.”

  He shrugs. “You’ll probably do something to sabotage it, but try not to, okay?”

  “I’ll try.” Already knowing I’ll fail. Every day my panic over Veronica grows.

  “I’ll tell you something that should help. If you’re interested.”

  “What’s that?”

  He cocks a grin. “It’s not one-sided.”

  I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

  “What you’re feeling, you’re not alone. Veronica is as consumed by you as you are by her.” He chuckles. “Women are just better equipped to handle the turmoil.”

  He’s managed to touch on something lurking deep under my skin, something I can barely admit to myself. Something that makes me uncomfortable. The words are out of my mouth before I can filter them. “You don’t know that.”

  “Yeah, I do. I have eyes. You guys are fucked. Just let yourself drown and it gets easier.”

  I take a deep breath. “Michael said the same.”

  “Michael should know. The only way he was able to get Layla to stay was to commit and never waver.” Leo laughs. “But he had the advantage of a stable past to keep him grounded.”

  This is true. Michael comes from a good, close-knit family. Leo does too, except his twin brother was murdered when they were only nineteen and it fucked him up.

  And then there’s me.

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  An image of that kiss, her lips clinging to mine, fills my head.

  And I admit it—at least to myself—I’m starting to need her. I don’t know how or why and I guess it doesn’t matter. She’s starting to feel like a part of me.

  My vicious desire to claim her, to possess her fills my chest, but instead of repressing it, of trying to lock it away, I let it consume me.

  I surrender. To it. Her. And whatever disaster awaits.

  * * *

  Veronica

  I’m sitting at my desk, trying to focus, but my thighs are slippery, and a pulse has grown between my legs.

  I don’t know why I did what Brandon asked. My panties are where he put them, and my breasts are still bare under the silk of my top. I keep telling myself to put everything right, to look respectable, in case someone walks in, but I can’t seem to make my fingers cooperate.

  Every time they stall.

  I don’t want to disobey him.

  I don’t know why. Well, that’s not entirely true, but I’m embarrassed to admit how I’m fast becoming addicted to being on edge like this.

  I want to ask someone, Jillian maybe, if this crazy, desperate, consuming lust is normal. What am I suppose to do? Call her up and ask?

  I suck in a breath and my nipples abrade against my blouse. I want to touch.

  I have never wanted to touch more.

  I blink. I’ve been staring at the same spreadsheet for thirty minutes, not doing anything.

  I have to work.

  I have to concentrate.

  My door slams open and I jerk back with a start.

  Brandon’s standing in the threshold, he crooks a finger. “Let’s go.”

  All the air leaves my lungs “Go?”

  “My house. Now.”

  I stand, my legs wobbly. Finally. Thank god.

  I start to walk, and I flush with heat because he has to see I didn’t put myself back together. I force myself to continue until I’m standing in front of him.

  His expression grows feral as he looks down at me. “Your nipples are hard.”

  “Yes.” I won’t be ashamed, he did this to me, and he should see the consequences.

  “Did you keep your panties where I put them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you wet?”

  I suck in a breath. “So wet. You’re all I could think about.”

  He grips my throat and forces my chin at a higher angle. “Do you have any idea how much it pleases me that you kept yourself exactly as I left you?”

  I shake my head and offer a stuttery, “No.”

  “It does. More than I can articulate.” His fingers squeeze. “I have never wanted to fuck anyone as much as I want to fuck you. But more than that, you are the only woman I have ever wanted to own. To keep for myself.”

  I melt into him. “Yes.”

  His gaze dips to my lips. “I can’t touch you right now because once I start I’m not going to be able to stop. This is not going to be pretty, but I’m at least going to lay you out on my bed.”

  I grip his wrist where he’s captured my throat. “Please.”

  “I want you to understand something.”

  I lick my lips and nod.

  “You are the only woman that has ever been in my bed.”

  My brow creases because I don’t understand.

  He meets my gaze. “Women have been to my house, but never to my private bedroom. You’ll be the first.”

  I bite my lip and when the words come I don’t hold them back. “And the last.”

  He releases his hold on me. “Get whatever you need and come with me.”

  I smile. “Your wish is my command.”

  He leans down and delivers a hard kiss before pulling back. “You’re fucking right it is.”

  19

  Veronica

  There’s dead silence as we stand at the foot of his bed.

  I can barely breathe. Barely think for wanting him.

  I’m scared, and nervous and excited. It feels like I’ve wanted him forever. Like it’s always been him, even when I didn’t know it. Now I’m finally going to have him.

  He places his hands on my shoulders before running his palms down my arms. He dips his head to brush his lips against the curve of my neck. “This is your last chance to back out.”

  I lean against his chest. “Why would I want to back out?”

  His arm goes around my waist, his hand flattening on my stomach. “Because this will change us, and there’s no getting around that. Once I slide my cock inside you, you’ll be mine. I will own you, and you think you know what that means, but you don’t. You won’t until you’re in the thick of it. The first time we talked, you’d said you wanted something different, that you wanted to be free to become your own person. I don’t want to take that away from you.”

  I peer at him over my shoulder, and his expression is serious, creased with concern. I turn to face him, rise to my tiptoes and brush my mouth over his. “From the second I saw you on that balcony I knew my life was going to change because of you. You’re all I want, you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

  His fingers trace a path up my arm to curl around my nape. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He bends down and our lips meet. And it’s like an explosion.

  Everything we’ve been playing at, everything we’ve been skirting around and avoiding, evaporates and there’s nothing but raw, consuming need.

  His head slants, his tongue claims, and his mouth is hungry.

  Burning me up, making me dizzy.

  He growls.

  I moan.

  The kiss grows hotter, deeper, more intoxicating.

  He grips my shirt and rips. Buttons fly as my blouse is shredded from my body. The tattered scrap of silk falls to the floor and his mouth is on my breast, covering my nipple.

  I clutch at his head, threading my fingers through his hair as he sucks deep and long, sending a bolt of pleasure straight through me. I cry out, digging my nails deeper.

  His other hand covers my exposed nipple and he rubs his thumb in a slow circle, matching the rhythm of his wicked tongue.

  “Brandon.” His name is a moan.

  In answer he bows me back, his teeth scraping over the distended bud as he plucks.

  I’m so on edge. So worked up. And his mouth is just too damn good. Pleasure pulses through me, swelling
inside me. My knees buckle and we fall in a heap on the floor.

  His mouth covers me again.

  I arch.

  He bites me.

  I try and rock against him, but my skirt doesn’t allow it. I grow frustrated, needing more, wanting something. “Please.”

  My nails rake down his back, he’s still covered in a blue shirt that matches his eyes, and I frantically start to unbutton him, but without ever removing his mouth from my breast, he grips my wrists and holds me down.

  I jerk up.

  He lifts his head and meets my eyes. “All I can do right now is fuck you. Everything else is off the table. But I’m at least going to make you a needy mess first.”

  “I’m already a needy mess.” I tilt my hips. “Touch me and you’ll see.”

  His long fingers ensnare my wrists in one hand, and he works his way down my body and under my skirt.

  When he touches my wet thighs, he curses.

  When he glides across slippery flesh, he groans.

  He slides his fingers over my clit and I bite my lower lip, and shake my head helplessly. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come.”

  A muscle jumps in his jaw. He plunges inside and I moan, my head falling back against the carpet. In harsh words he utters, “I’m fucking addicted to you.”

  I tilt my hips into his hands. “Then take me.”

  He kisses me, harsh and brutal, his mouth bruising me as his grip marks my wrists.

  I have no doubt I’ll have marks tomorrow. And I’m glad. I want everyone who sees me to know what he’s done to me. That I belong to him.

  I want his possession. Claiming.

  I’d wear a goddamn sign if he wanted.

  I just need to be his.

  I think he needs this too.

  Suddenly, he rears back, and strips his shirt over his head.

  I go to touch him but he slaps me away. “Not yet.”

  I don’t question him. Because I know he’s on the very edge. That whatever control he still has is frayed and tattered, and almost in pieces.

  I want it stripped away.

  I want him primal and out of control when he finally thrusts inside me.

  He leans on his haunches and rips my skirt off, taking my panties with him, until I’m naked except for my heels. Lids hooding, he undoes his pants, and takes his heavy cock into his hand, stroking up and down before meeting my gaze.

  His expression is stark, beautiful, and so mesmerizing I can’t look away. His cheekbones are a hard slash of bone over flesh. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on and he’s mine.

  Like I’m his.

  He knows it and I know it.

  The only difference between us is I’ve accepted the inevitable, and he hasn’t. He’s still trying to figure out how to control the madness between us, but all I care about is surrendering.

  To it and to him.

  Jaw clenching, he speaks, “I want to fuck you without a condom.”

  I raise my hips, and offer him everything. “You can fuck me however and whenever you want.”

  He shakes his head. “That is a dangerous promise to make to a man like me.”

  I smile. “I know.”

  He pulls me so my thighs are splayed wide around his knees and positions the tip of his cock along my slit.

  We both hiss at the contact.

  He drags his erection between my folds, teasing me, taunting me. I thrill, my nipples pulling impossibly tighter. He grips my hips and continues his slow glide. “I don’t even care if I get you pregnant.”

  “Me either.” I gasp as the tip of him rubs against my clit. “You won’t, but I wish you could.”

  There’s something twisted about this, and I like it. He wants to keep me. I want him to keep me. Right here, wild and unguarded, is the only time he can admit it.

  His fingers tighten on my hips. “Would you like that? My come spilling inside you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not going to let you wash it away.” His hold on me is like a vise and his pace picks up, thrusting dirty and mean against my pussy, but not entering me. Driving me crazy. “In fact, I’m not going to be satisfied unless you’re constantly dripping.”

  Oh my god, this is the hottest I’ve been. I start pumping my hips greedily against him. “Yes. I want that.”

  “Tomorrow, at the office, first thing I’m going to rip your panties off, fuck you and make you give that presentation with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

  I moan, and grip the carpet, wanting more leverage. “Yes.”

  “I’m going to write my name on your skin.”

  “Oh god.” My body is climbing and there’s no stopping it.

  It’s like in this moment we can say all of the things we’ve been secretly thinking. Like there are no barriers between us.

  “I’m going to turn you into a greedy little slut. All you’re going to be able to think about is the next time I give you my cock.”

  I grind my clit against his erection. “Now, Brandon. I’m begging you.”

  On the next pass he slams into me and it takes my breath away. I slide back along the floor but he grips me and yanks me back to him.

  He covers me, kisses me, and impales me.

  I have never in my life been fucked like this.

  He’s hard. Demanding. Relentless.

  It consumes me.

  He pounds into me, thrusting harder and harder, until our mouths break apart, no longer able to maintain contact.

  He grips me around the neck and whispers in a harsh breath, “Look at me.”

  My lids snap open.

  He hammers into me, hitting a spot so good I cry out, but don’t lose eye contact.

  He squeezes my throat. “Mine.”

  “Yours.”

  “Your cunt. Your mouth. Your body.” He presses his fingers deeper into my skin, cutting off my air. “Your very breath belongs to me.”

  He releases and I drag air into my burning lungs.

  The orgasm is barreling down on me, fast and furious, is an unstoppable force. In the back of my head I remember him saying he wanted me to ask, and as I meet a particularly brutal thrust, I cry out, “Can I come?”

  He growls, low and feral and shifts his angle, taking away the immediate threat. “No. Not yet.”

  “Please.” I rake my nails down his back, digging into his skin. “Please.”

  “That’s right, beg me like a good girl.” He picks up velocity, his expression turning cruel and demanding. “Beg me.”

  “I want to come, please let me come.”

  “No.” He pummels me, but he somehow manages to make it so the orgasm threatens, but doesn’t tumble over. “Beg me harder.”

  My mind is a fuzzy haze, barely able to string together a coherent sentence, but I do my best. “I need you.”

  He squeezes my throat again. “Who do you belong to?”

  “You, Brandon.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Yes.”

  He makes a low guttural sound. “Christ, I need to fuck you harder.”

  I don’t know where the words come from, but they well inside me, and I slow, raising my hand to his face and stroking his cheek.

  His eyes lock on mine.

  “Do you want to hurt me?”

  He nods. “I need you marked.”

  I crane my neck, let my hands and legs fall to my sides, and offer up my body. “Do it.”

  “I-I—” He shakes his head. “I don’t have control right now.”

  “Do it,” I whisper, and let my body go limp. Not understanding how I know to do this, but knowing it’s true.

  The first blow is across my breasts and I scream from the fiery sting of his hand directly across my nipple.

  It explodes against my skin, radiating out and racing along my nerves before shattering in my pussy. I don’t understand, but it’s so fucking good I lose my mind. I cry out, “I’m going to come.”

  “Come.” He hits me again, and again, l
eans down and bites my neck, so hard I see stars and then the orgasm is rushing over me, hot and fierce, like it’s breaking me in two.

  It goes on and on, blinding waves of ecstasy crashing over me. I call out his name, and he goes faster and faster and faster.

  Fucking me harder.

  Deeper.

  And then he growls, and comes inside me, setting off another crescendo of crashing sensations.

  I’m in love with him.

  I need him.

  He shudders and groans and collapses on top of me.

  I stroke his hair, loving the feel of him heavy against my body. I close my eyes and melt into him.

  I’m never going to let him go.

  * * *

  Brandon

  It’s the dead of night and I’m lying in bed with Veronica, the moonlight streaming through the large windows. She’s asleep, after I’ve exhausted her, and now I’m watching her.

  I’ve never watched a girl sleep before.

  The sheet is a tangle around her waist, and my palm rests on her bare stomach. Her breasts are pale in the white glow, her nipples puckered and pink. There’s a mark I sucked into her skin at some point on the swell of her breast. One that will be visible above her bra, one that I’ll just be able to make out tomorrow, depending on what she’s wearing. The base of her neck, the curve of her shoulders are also bruised and marked.

  In sleep, the slope of her throat looks so delicate it’s impossible to believe she could take such rough handling. But she had. My gaze roams up to her face. Her lips are full and swollen from my kissing and biting. Her eyes closed her face tilted away from me as her hair spills out over my pillow.

  I’d taken her over and over again. Despite all the women I’ve slept with, she’s still the best sex I’ve ever had. There was something elemental about it, as though being inside her was what had been missing in my life.

  I don’t understand the urges she invokes in me. The stark, primal demand I take her, the almost violent shudder of my possession. I’ve never experienced anything even close to it, and I have no idea how to deal with it.

  At one point, my hands hard on her hips, driving my cock deep inside her, I’d look down at her and thought, she was destined to belong to me. There had to be some way to meld her to me, make her part of me. I’d started gripping the base of her jaw and growling that she belonged to me, that she was mine, that I’d fuck her until I’d marked her, until I’d ruined her. The more I said, the hotter and out of control everything became. It only increased the need, until I ruthlessly possessed her body, until we’d both come in shaking, mind-numbing passion.