The Darkest Chase Read Online Nicole Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
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I want her under me, screaming and pleading, torn between delicious agony and sheer ecstasy.

I want to be her living fantasy.

I want to taste her.

I want to ruin her for every other man.

Bowing my head, I graze her throat with my lips, breathing in her scent.

Then I part my lips and sink my teeth in.

My teeth aren’t sharp enough to pierce, of course.

But they’re just sharp enough that her cry is instant, and it makes my cock rage.

“Micah!” Her voice cracks on my name.

Her back arches, her head falling back.

Her skin is smooth cream against my lips, my teeth, my tongue.

Now I can feel her pulse, stampeding against my mouth.

Her body betrays her. She loves it.

I half expect her to push me away as the reality sinks in.

As she realizes this might hurt.

Instead, her arms slip around my neck and her fingers tangle in my hair.

She pulls me closer in abject surrender, begging with her big blue eyes.

Mark me.

Make it hurt.

The last thread of self-control snaps.

Catching her wrists, I pull her hands from my hair, then shove her down against her sleeping bag, forcing her on her back.

My teeth only leave her throat for a second.

Just long enough to catch her startled look.

Long enough to see how flushed she is, her nipples hard against the thin undershirt under her open flannel shirt.

Snarling, I pin her to the ground by her wrists, my body weighing her down.

As she arches, sliding against me from head to toe, teasing my cock with her leg, I fucking do it.

I strike.

I find the pink red mark where I bit down before and suck hard, pulling tender flesh between my teeth, thrusting my knee between her thighs to spread her open.

There’s nothing gentle this time.

Not when I’m greedy as hell.

Nothing tender in the brute way I seize that mouthful of her flesh and bite down harder, harder, all while she writhes.

I drag my body against hers roughly, urging her to lift her hips, to rub herself against me, to spread herself open and find her pleasure.

The sounds she makes are pure sex.

They put a spell on my cock, and when I feel her skin stretching to its limit, her mouth opens.

Talia screams.

Pure, sinful pleasure.

I should silence her.

We’re out in the open, stalking the Jacobins, and if they show up early and wander off their path for some odd reason, they’ll figure out we’re here real goddamned quick.

Still, I want to hear her.

I want to know how she cries out for more, the way she whimpers my name, the way her voice hitches and breaks as she crashes against me with breathy heat between fear and pleasure.

Yes, I’m fucked up to love this so much. No question.

To be so turned on by painting her skin.

But what if my sickness is also hers?

She’s not fighting me, not pulling away, not telling me to stop with her voice dripping with horror.

Instead, she clings to me, her nipples so hard and her breath coming in ravenous gasps as I lick at the bite mark, trailing my teeth over her skin.

Rasping, I push the collar of her flannel aside and leave another imprint.

It’s feral and hot and needy, and suddenly I can’t get enough of her.

I rip at her clothing, tossing it aside into the leaves, exposing more skin to mark. She’s just as frantic with her fingers digging at my shirt and then at my naked flesh as I fling my top and jeans and boots aside until we’re nothing but wild animals in the raw.

I barely even register the delicate, pale violet-pink lace of her panties, her bra.

Even the sinful sheen of matching stockings, the wicked side this timid girl hides under her clothing like a secret gift just for me.

Not when I need her creamy skin so much.

Not when I’m this fucking hungry.

Today, she’s my canvas.

And it feels like I’m undoing every terrible thing my father did, the things I hated, the pain I never asked for.

Ugly pain and hatred, that’s not this.

The way I mark her?

The way she begs for it?

There’s no hate whatsoever here.

No abuse.

Nothing but absolute desire boiling over as I bite her shoulders, her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, savoring her reaction.

She tosses her head and pleads, “More, more,” while I defile her with bruises.

She’s too fucking beautiful.

This pure woman, welcoming me wholeheartedly, when all I know how to do is hurt to show my love.

It’s like she understands, though.

She knows and she isn’t just tolerating this like it’s the price of being with me.

No, she wants it.

She wants me.

She wants everything I give, and as that realization sinks in, I lick a hot trail up her inner thigh and bite down hard at the soft crease where her thigh meets her pussy.

I find wet, clenching folds and slip my fingers inside.

Of course, she’s ready.


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