by Alexa Riley
Her breathing is soft as she sleeps. The moonlight shines in from the window and blankets her chocolate-colored skin in a brilliant glow. She’s sleeping in the middle of the bed naked, the sheet tangled around her thighs. I smile knowing I gave her this space. This freedom. Just like every night, I strip out of my clothes and lie beside her. Her body is warm and inviting. My hard cock presses against her bare hip. It feels good to rub it against her smooth skin. Sometimes I can come just like that—with my dick sliding against her flesh.
Eager to touch her, I slide her dark hair away from her throat and press a kiss there. Every night, I worship my goddess. I kiss and taste her as she sleeps. I caress her huge tits and tweak her nipples. I finger her cunt and make her moan.
She never opens her eyes.
Her breathing remains the same.
But often, I wonder if she’s awake.
My palm roams down her tit to her rounded belly. Possessively, I stroke her flesh and grab it. One day, I plan to bite and suck every inch of her. Tonight, I’m satisfied with simply holding her.
She rolls to her side, her back now to me, and I still my body. Then, her ass wiggles against me as if to invite me to touch her more. I never turn down such an invitation. My palm sneaks its way down between her thighs. I groan when I run my fingers along her seam and encounter wetness. Always wet when she sleeps. Wet for me.
“Good girl,” I murmur as I stroke her sweet spot.
Moans and whimpers purr from her. It makes me wonder if she thinks about me in her dreams. The man who killed her husband—the man she saved too by never telling cops. I inch my finger inside her tight channel. She’d feel so good wrapped around my cock. Perhaps one day.
My cock is alive and desperate between us. I rub it along the crack of her ass. Kiss after kiss along her shoulder, I worship her. Her ass continues to grind against me as though she’s begging for my dick. All I’d have to do was grab it and push it into the right hole—the hole that is weeping for me.
Would she panic when she awoke?
Call me a rapist and a killer?
“Please,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.
Her voice is raspy and sexy. A voice I could come to just from hearing the sound of it.
I grip my dick and run it along her wet seam from behind. Once again, she pushes her ass toward me as if to plead for my cock. This is probably a terrible decision. A decision that could end badly when she comes to her senses.
And yet…
I push the tip of my cock into her soaked cunt. She moans which encourages me. Slowly, I urge myself the entire way in, reveling in the way her pussy seems to hug me. I’ve been inside countless chicks before but never one that felt this amazing. I’m bare and buried deep inside this woman and I’ve never felt so goddamned good in my entire life.
Her body seems to clench around my cock and I’ve yet to move. We’re connected. She’s mine. I run my tongue along the side of her neck that tastes salty from sweat and sweet from her scent. My fingers massage her clit and still I don’t thrust into her. I enjoy the way her pussy squeezes my dick as the pleasure begins to take over.
“So beautiful,” I murmur against her flesh and then drag my teeth along her neck until I find her ear. “So beautiful and mine.”
Another moan.
Needy as fuck.
The gripping her cunt keeps doing around my cock will make me come long before I’m ready. I rub her pussy faster, eager for her to orgasm all over my dick. I want her to drench me with it.
She whimpers and cries out, the pleasure too intense. That motherfucking husband never took the time to touch her—not in a way that actually made her feel good. He let someone like her go unsatisfied. I’d like to think he was saving her for me.
“That’s it,” I mumble, “come all over my dick, baby. If you come, I’ll fuck you so hard you scream.”
She shudders in my arms as an orgasm sweeps through her. Unlike those girls from school, she lets loose. Doesn’t try to hide the way I affect her. Her body trembles and she thrashes in pleasure. I start pumping into her, my thrusts hard and thunderous. My hand becomes greedy for her fat tits and I grip the closest one. I sink my teeth into her throat and nearly come from the sound of her surprised scream.
“You.” Her muttered word isn’t an accusation, it’s a prayer. A thank you. Motherfucking praise.
I lick away the pain I inflicted on her neck and kiss my way up to her ear. I suckle on her earlobe and then whisper dirty things to her.
I’m going to fuck you all night in the same bed where your now-dead husband used to sleep.
I’m going to fill your pretty cunt up with my seed.
I’m going to ruin you for any other man.
She cries out as if turned on by my savage words and comes hard. This time, I go with her. Together, we find a place between reality and dreams. We dance there—naked and embracing—for a brief moment. And then we’re back in the present. I’m grunting as my release spills inside her.
I’ve just fucked my widowed neighbor.
After I snuck into her house.
This is bad.
“That was so good,” she whispers, awe in her voice. “I’ve been fantasizing about it for a long time.”
Pride surges through me.
“How long?”
“Since you started driving.”
Thalia watches me too.
“Sixteen,” I growl. “So dirty.”
I pinch her clit and her pussy clamps around my cock again. “I looked but I didn’t touch,” she murmurs. “Unlike you.” This time, her tone is an accusation, but it’s filled with hurt. As if it wasn’t fair that she couldn’t reciprocate.
I smirk at her words. “How long have you known I’ve been touching you while you slept?”
“The very first time you touched me. It’s like you awoke the fiery woman I used to be. Made her see that life could be different. I pretended to be asleep,” she admits, her voice so soft I barely hear. “I wanted it.”
I slide my soaked, softened cock from her body and run my fingers through our spent orgasms. After I coat my fingers, I bring them to her mouth. “If you wanted it so bad, you should have said so.” I push my filthy fingers into her mouth. “You should have told me.”
She sucks off our juices so enthusiastically that my cock is raring and ready to go once more. When I pull my fingers away, she lets out a sigh. “I was afraid.”
I sit up on my elbow and grip her jaw to urge her face toward mine. In the dark shadows of the room, I can hardly make out her features. But I can feel her quick breaths tickling my face. “Afraid of me?”
“No, Thomas,” she says, my name on her lips making my dick thump in excitement. “I was afraid of the unknown. Afraid of him.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m free.”
I release her jaw and climb on top of her. Settling myself between her spread thighs, I once again push my erection deep inside her perfect cunt. My lips brush against hers in a soft kiss. “You know my name.”
“I know things too…”
“My sisters told you?”
She moans when I thrust into her hard. “Your dad. He’s so proud of you.”
I crush my lips to hers and kiss her passionately. I’ve waited for what feels like forever for this woman to kiss me back. And now she is. Her fingernails are digging into my muscled shoulders and her heels pushing into my ass. She urges me to fuck her. My sweet Thalia needs me. Our tongues dance together in a familiar way—as if each of us has been practicing in our dreams. I devour my woman as I drive into her. Hard. Unrelenting. Desperate.
I want to fill her up with every part of me.
Give it to her so good she’ll never desire anyone else.
“Yes,” she whimpers. “That feels so good.”
I pinch her nipple hard enough to make her cry out into my mouth and then I slide my hand between us. It doesn’t take much effort on her sensitive clit before I’ve worked her into a frenzy.
A frenzy that I’m sure draws blood from my shoulders when she claws the shit out of me. Her wildness spurs the animal inside of me to lose control. With a guttural growl, I come hard inside her. My cum spurts out, hot and claiming. I’ll put a motherfucking baby in her because I can.
She. Is. Mine.
When the glow of our fucking begins to dim and reality sets in, her voice trembles. “Your dad said you’re headed to boot camp soon.”
I kiss her plump lips. “I am.”
“But we’ve just…”
Silencing her words, I kiss her hard. I nip at her bottom lip and suck on her tongue. When I’ve thoroughly quietened her, I nuzzle my nose against hers.
“I’ll be back, sweet Thalia.” I bury my face against her throat and kiss the silky flesh there. “And I’ll always be watching over you.”
The End
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS FROM K WEBSTER
Thank you to my husband…I’ll always be your number one stalker!
A huge thank you to my Krazy for K Webster’s Books reader group. You all are insanely supportive and I can’t thank you enough.
A gigantic thank you to my betas who read this story. Elizabeth Clinton, Ella Stewart, Shannon Miller, Amy Bosica, Brooklyn Miller, Robin Martin, Amy Simms, Jessica Viteri, Amanda Söderlund, and Jessica Hollyfield, you all helped make this story even better. Your feedback and early reading is important to this entire process and I can’t thank you enough.
Also, a big thank you to Vanessa Renee Place for proofreading this story!! Love you!
A big thank you to my author friends who have given me your friendship and your support. You have no idea how much that means to me.
Thank you to all of my blogger friends both big and small that go above and beyond to always share my stuff. You all rock! #AllBlogsMatter
I am totally thankful for my author group, the COPA gals, for being there when I need to take a load off and whine. Y’all rock!
Ellie at Love N Books, thank you for editing my crazy Gray! You were a pleasure to work with.
Vanessa with Prema Editing, thanks so much for being my second round of eyes. You’re amazing.
Thank you Stacey Blake for being a super star as always when formatting my books and in general. I love you! I love you! I love you!
A big thanks to my PR gal, Nicole Blanchard. You are fabulous at what you do and keep me on track!
Lastly but certainly not least of all, thank you to all of the wonderful readers out there that are willing to hear my story and enjoy my characters like I do. It means the world to me!
THE FINAL FALL
ALEXA RILEY
FOREWORD
It's been two and half years since we released Taking the Fall and it's finally time! After all the begging and pleading... Viktor is finally getting his story.
We hope he's worth the wait!
CHAPTER ONE
LONDON
“I THOUGHT he’d be here by now,” I mutter to myself, looking down at my paper. I stare at the sketch of the man who holds my thoughts and makes my heart flutter.
Letting out a breath, I close my pad, dropping it down onto the bed. The more days tick by, the more I think he’s not going to come. I know three days doesn’t seem like much time, but over the last year he’s watched me every day. From the moment I first noticed him, he’s never missed one.
He’s always in solid black, which includes his buzzed hair and his eyes, so brown they’re black. But I can never get close enough to be sure. Everything about him is dark and mysterious, but somehow it pulls me in. His face never shows emotion, and I have a need inside me to draw it out of him. The need grows every day and now it’s become a deep ache.
I watched him as he watched me and wondered where he was going and what he was doing. I knew it couldn’t be something good. One look at my mystery man and you’d know he was up to something dark.
The first time I saw him I thought maybe I was seeing things. Why would a man like him be following me? But he watched me constantly, and though it was strange, I grew to love it. I looked forward to spotting him each day.
Sometimes he would watch me all day. Once I even tested it by going to the park with my lunch and drawing pad. I lay out on a blanket and he stood off by a far wall, never moving. I swear he was utterly still. It should have scared me, but the more he watched me, the more I wanted him.
Maybe the old saying is true. Good girls really do want bad boys. But my mystery watcher is all man. Either way, to the people who know me I’m the “goodest” of them all. The girl who volunteers at the hospital. The girl who helps when anyone asks. The girl who works at the biggest church in town as the secretary to the preacher—my father.
I walk over to the window and look out at the lake. I’m also a little shocked my father hasn’t shown up here. He has to know I‘m here. I reach up and touch my cheek where he’d slapped me when he found out I was taking off for a little. He even called me a little whore and asked about my drawings of the man. I had no idea he’d seen them. I don’t know why I was shocked he’d done it.
My father rules with an iron fist, which I assume is why my mom ran off when I was little, too early for me to even remember her. I saw a picture of us once when I was digging in my father’s desk for a pen. She was holding me close, kissing my chubby cheeks. I was about three in the picture, if I had to guess. I look just like her. Blonde hair and bright green eyes. It’s clear as day we’re mother and daughter. She looked happy holding me, so I wondered why she left me behind with him.
After my mom left, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents from my father’s side. I loved it there. I would spend whole summers with them while my grandma and I cooked and Grandpa took me fishing.
As I got older my father’s church started to grow. He thought it was time I came home full time. I thought he just wanted to use me as a prop, and he did at first. Then he had me take over the church accounting.
It was bittersweet at times. I love a lot of people at the church, and getting to help those in need filled a place in my heart. But that was during the daylight. Behind closed doors, my father’s real personality came out.
He’s cold and puts me down for the smallest things. I think it’s because he’s taking more money from the church than he’s supposed to be. And he knows I know. I’d thought about saying something once, thinking maybe he’d get in trouble and I could go back to Grandma and Grandpa’s. That dream was short-lived, though, when my grandparents passed away nearly days apart. I’d been sixteen at the time.
Grandma had a heart attack one day, and Grandpa died the next. They never could ascertain the cause of his death, but I think he couldn’t live without her. They were always so in love. I looked up to that. Wanted that. I’d never felt more alone than when they passed.
What made me finally hate my father was the funeral. He spoke about how much he loved them and would miss them. He was a liar. He hated Grandpa for a reason I would never know. To me and Grandma, he was wonderful. Nothing about my father ever seemed to add up.
That’s the reason I came out here to my grandparents’ place. I needed some space. I hadn’t been here since they died and I missed it. It could be why I haven’t seen my mystery man in days. I assumed he would find his way here, just like he always finds me, but apparently, I was wrong.
I turn from the window and grab my pad from the bed. I need to get outside. Maybe the sunshine will do me some good. I can go lie on the dock and get some fresh air.
I head to the kitchen to grab a soda and make a snack. I can’t help but smile as I do. I have so many memories of being in here with Grandma. I’d begged my dad to come here a few times, but he always said no. I’m scared he’ll sell it, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do if my father finally shows up. But I’m not going back with him. I’ll figure it out somehow.
Maybe he’s forgotten about the place. I’d been paying to keep it maintained out of the small pay I get from the church.
I turn around to head back to
ward the living room and stop dead in my tracks. Standing there in the middle of the room is my mystery man. The breath catches in my throat. I know the door was locked and the alarm was on, but he got inside the house without setting it off.
He’s even more handsome than I thought he’d be. He has a hard look on his face, but I can see he’s tired. His eyes do appear black now that I can see them up close. But I want to be closer. He’s unmoving like always, and as soon as I have the thought, he cocks his head. I watch the corner of his mouth turn up, and then I do something that isn’t in my nature.
I launch myself at him.
CHAPTER TWO
VIKTOR
I ROLL MY RIGHT SHOULDER, trying to get the tension out of it. I don’t know if it’s from London being missing or the beating I’d given on my last job. I’d gone after him a little harder than normal. He had a type—blonde girls. My London is blonde. When I thought about how he could beat on someone as sweet and pure as her, my anger only grew. Then it burns when I realize whoever has her could be doing the same thing to her. I slam my fist into the steering wheel, making my Dodge Charger jerk to the side before I steer it back on the road again.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. That’s something I wouldn’t have ever done before. I’m not one to snap and lose control, but she’s able to do this to me. I’ve been in a state of panic since losing track of her. There’s a weird pressure on my chest, making it feel like I can’t breathe, and the longer she’s gone, the heavier it gets. If I don’t find her I hope it finishes its job and crushes me.
I knew from the moment I saw her she was the most perfect creature to walk this earth. She walked out of the hospital wearing one of those candy-striper uniforms. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a fancy-looking braid, and some tresses had come loose. They were brushing against her cheeks and it was all I could do not to walk up and touch her. She turned my way as if she could feel someone staring at her. That was when her bright green eyes hit me. They dominated everything and I was trapped by the vision. Her full lips parted and she blinked, then the moment was broken. She was a young little thing. Too young to be walking around on her own. She looked like an angel. I wanted her from that very moment.
