I let out a huff before crawling across the floor, stalking toward him when his eyes snapped to me.

“Lila?”

I gave him a wicked grin and climbed onto the couch, straddling his hips and grabbing the book, tossing it on the floor. Taking his hands in mine, I placed them on my br**sts.

“Touch me.”

His eyes went wide in shock, but his hands didn’t move the way I loved, the way I needed. They were still and lifeless.

I leaned over and kissed him, placing all of the attention back on me and what I needed from him. I placed my hands over his, encouraging him with the movements for him to do something, anything to give me friction and hope of release.

“Please, baby. I can’t take it. You look so good, and I want you.” I breathed against his mouth, kisses left on his lips to persuade him.

It took a moment, but Nathan finally responded like I hoped he would. He growled and pinched my ni**les before sitting up and taking them in his mouth. I shuddered in pleasure as he began to ravage me. His fingers flexed into my flesh, his teeth nipping and pulling on my ni**les. My hips rocked against the hardening length beneath me.

“Fuck, baby.” His hips flexed up as I pushed down.

I chanted his name, grabbing hold of his hair and pulling his head back to devour his lips. “Take me, please. I need you. Take me.”

His eyes darkened to almost black, his grip on me tightening.

“Again,” he demanded.

My eyes threatened to roll back, and I moaned. “Take me.”

He growled and sat up, spinning me around and pushing me down onto my knees. My shorts and panties where pulled down with so much force I heard the fabric tear at the seams.

Nathan’s weight sagged the couch on one side—the hot head of his c**k rubbing against the inside of my thigh.

“Is this what you want, slut?” He rocked his hard length against my slit. I wiggled my butt, teasing him, earning a smack against the swell of my ass. “You better answer me or I won’t give it to you.”

“I didn’t ask you to give, I told you to take.”

His fingers dug into my hips, and he drew in a shuddering breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his hips rocking faster. His hand landed against my skin again, and I yelped, my pu**y clenching and begging for him. “That’s it, f**king naughty girl. Every time my hand comes down, making your ass nice and pink, you soak my cock.”

“Who do I belong to?”

His fingers dug deeper into my hips. “Me. You are f**king mine.” His teeth nipped at my neck as he pulled my hips back to his.

“Then show me. Show me who owns me and my pu**y.”

He slammed into me, hard, causing my body to clench and convulse around him. He pulled out and thrust back in, pushing me into the arm of the couch. Setting up a wicked hard, rough pace, he grabbed hold of my hair, swirling it around his hand, and pulled.

“Fucking take it. Take my cock. Your pu**y loves it, doesn’t it?”

I moaned, unable to form a coherent thought. His hand smacked down on my skin as his hand pulled harder on my hair.

“Answer me!”

“Yes, yes! Fucking God, yes, my pu**y loves your cock.” The whole experience was more intense than any in almost two months. I couldn’t even think, wrapped in his overwhelming need and dominance.

I begged for more, and he gave me what I asked for. Harder, rougher, faster. It was instinctual, primal f**king, and I loved every moment.

Over and over he pushed me, until I was a blubbering mess from coming so many times in a row. My body was limp, and he was still pounding into me. Incoherent words fell from his lips, his movements becoming erratic until he let go, spilling inside me.

He collapsed down onto my back, and together we slid down to the couch on our sides. His arms wrapped around me, his hot breath on my neck.

“Damn, Honeybear.”

I giggled, the laughter shaking my body. “What?”

“You’re going to kill me if you keep that up. Though no better way than balls deep in your pu**y…or mouth, or ass. I’m not picky.” He chuckled while placing a kiss to my temple.

We both began to laugh, snuggled together in a mass of limp-noodle limbs. Nathan forgot about the book I’d tossed aside and kept me wrapped in his embrace. His fingers caressed and tickled me, making me squirm against him.

We stayed snuggled on the couch for the remainder of the day. Nathan threw the blanket from the back of the couch onto us to keep warm. The TV was on, Sunday movies playing, while we napped on and off.

It was an enjoyable day, and we were well rested for the week to come.

CHAPTER 22

The day started off like any other morning of late: faltering masks and blurred indifference.

Sometime during mid-morning, Libby, the receptionist, knocked on our door.

“There’s someone here to see you,” she said and stepped aside.

Behind her stood a short man who was less than memorable. His voice, however, was unforgettable: deep baritone that resonated on the walls, and much louder than I expected from his small frame.

“Delilah Palmer? Nathan Thorne?”

“Yes?” We moved from our desk to stand in front of him.

He held out an envelope to each of us.

“You have both been served with a subpoena by the defense attorney.”

My eyes grew wide, my gaze flickering to just outside the door and the few gawkers we had developed. While I was looking, Andrew appeared in the doorway.

“Can you tell Lawrence to call me beforehand next time? I would have requested a different location for these to be served, thus resulting in less commotion regarding such a sensitive subject,” Nathan said, his jaw flexing and voice tight.

The man apologized before leaving, and we stood there holding the subpoenas.

I stared down at the envelope, the sound of paper ripping filling my ears.

“What’s the party about?” Andrew asked.

Nathan let out a snort. “They want a deposition from us. Seems habitual boy is still spouting it’s not his fault, that you provoked him.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed on the slip of paper. “Like hell it is.”

My chest began tightening, and I concentrated on trying to keep my breathing regulated. It was a good thing; I had to keep repeating that mantra to myself. He was going to be put away for a long time. He would never be able to hurt me again.

My coaching wasn’t helping. Doubt started to nag at me, what if’s taking over my mind. Adam’s voice was in my head, laughing about how nothing could touch him, just as he had said many years before.