New Hope, Old Grudges Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Anne Malcom Advertisement1

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“I don’t want you to control yourself,” I found myself saying. “In fact, if you don’t get down here and fuck me dirty and rough in the next thirty seconds, I’m leaving.”

I shocked myself with my words, the control I was taking of the situation. But I couldn’t help it. The way Brody was looking at me showed me I was the one with the power here. He would do anything I asked. Anything I ordered.

His body jerked, and his cock pulsed in response to my words.

He moved in a blur, going to his bedside table to retrieve a condom, the foil crinkling before he sheathed his cock.

He grabbed my hips, pulling me to the edge of the bed then pressing his torso onto mine. “I normally don’t like bein’ told what to do, outside the bedroom, most especially inside, but fuck, woman, you almost made me come right there and then.”

My body twitched as his cock pressed against my soaking entrance, teasing me, his lips brushing against mine.

I looked into his eyes. “You better not come until you’ve made me scream,” I told him on a rasp.

His eyes went wide, then he leaned in to kiss me fiercely. “Oh, you’re gonna scream.”

Without another word, he slammed into me.

Rough.

Beautiful.

Fucking perfection.

My back arched off the bed as his cock plunged in and out, not giving me a moment of respite. I’d worried about him being too big. And he almost was. I was teetering on the edge of pain from his cock filling me up. Except it was a kind of pain that made the pleasure that much more intense.

I threw my head to the side, looking at the snow falling outside Brody’s bedroom window, having an out of body experience.

Firm pressure at my chin forced my gaze back to him.

Brody’s face was inches from mine, his eyes copper fire.

“No,” he commanded, slamming in harder. “Your eyes are on me when my cock is inside you.”

I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut to avoid the intensity, the pleasure, but I was held captive by his gaze.

“Yeah,” he drawled, a vein in his neck pulsating. “You look into my fucking eyes, and you come for me, Willow.”

“I’m not going to orgasm on command,” I snapped. “That’s—”

He plunged into me again, arching upward to the perfect spot, making me see stars and orgasm on his command.

My nails dug into his back, breaking the skin there. He grunted, in pain or pleasure, I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

I screamed out at the way my body exploded, unable to fathom that I was capable of feeling this way.

I was barely aware of Brody continuing to slam into me, his expression more intense, his muscles tensing tighter and tighter. My orgasm quieted, and my grip on him relaxed ever so slightly. In the next moment, with a roar, he was no longer inside me, the condom was gone, and he was coming in hot spurts, all over my tits.

I gasped at the pleasure, at an act that should’ve felt demeaning yet again served to make me feel more powerful than I ever had.

Brody pumped his cock until there was nothing left, collapsing on the bed, half on top of me, breathing heavy. His lips found my damp forehead.

“Never in my life has fucking been that good,” he murmured, voice jagged.

I was not capable of speech, but I tended to agree with him, though I wouldn’t say it out loud.

His eyes were still ringed with feral hunger, but they were softer now. My eyes were getting heavy as I regarded him, my body at its breaking point.

“Let me clean you up first, baby, before you pass out on me.” he kissed my head again.

He leapt off the bed, and I appreciated his ass as it moved away from me, presumably to a bathroom.

Though I was tired, exhausted, there was no way I was going to pass out with Brody’s cum still warm on my chest.

Except I totally did.

BRODY

It was four in the morning. It had stopped snowing. The storm had passed. The roads would be cleared soon. And I’d be in charge of coordinating a lot of that effort. Small-town sheriff had a lot in the job description. Especially this time of year. There would be tourists not used to the roads, getting in minor wrecks, the normal post-Thanksgiving traffic.

I should be getting up. Making calls. Plans. Making sure there were no more accidents. But I had Willow Watson sleeping on my chest.

I looked down at her. She frowned even in her sleep. She was frowning the day I pulled her over driving into town. Scowling would be more accurate. Especially when she recognized me.

I winced at the memory. I hadn’t known then why the breathtaking woman seemed to hate me on sight. The cop thing did that to some people, sure, but with Willow, it had seemed a lot more personal.


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