Hooked (Never After, #1)

by Emily McIntire

My cock lengthens at the thought of driving inside her until she breaks, leaving wounds that scar with the reminder I was there. Tarnishing her innocence and then tossing her at her father’s feet, a defiled version of the girl he bred. Delicious.

A gruesome image of me thrusting inside her on top of his remains, my cum dripping from between her thighs and mixing with the pool of blood beneath us makes my cock jerk violently, a groan ripping from my throat as I palm my aching erection.

What had I ever done that was so wrong? My stomach rolls and heaves, bile burning up the back of my throat, as my mind spins from the flashbacks. I’m surrounded by the slap of my uncle’s crocodile boots on the wooden floorboards. My chest squeezes tight at the sound of his pocket watch, the tick, tick, tick bleeding into the still of the night as he closes my bedroom door behind him.

Wendy Michaels is a delicious treat, and I can’t wait to enjoy every bite.

“Don’t walk away when someone asks you a question, kid. You’ve already come this far. Keep going, yeah?” My forehead scrunches as I take in his words. “Going until when?” He points to the clock tower that sits in the middle of the town square, the moon and stars shimmering in the background. “Straight on ’til morning.” My head tilts. “What’s that mean?” His arm wraps around my shoulders, bringing me in close. “That means you don’t quit until you get what you want. Even if it takes all damn night. Understand?”

“Do me a favor, pet.” “A—anything,” I stutter out. “Grind that sweet little pussy on me until you make a mess all over my lap.”

I have a sneaking suspicion she’s a virgin, and the thought of being the first man to have her—the one who will ruin her for all others—makes me ravenous to destroy her body, mind, and soul.

I’ve never felt so wanted. So sexual. So…

“You are always a vision, darling, but you look absolutely devastating while you touch yourself.”

I hadn’t planned to come inside her. But the thought of her swelling with my child right in front of her father’s eyes—right before I slit his throat—had my balls tightening and cum shooting out of my tip before I could even finish the fantasy.

“Just remember that whenever things feel bleak, all situations are temporary. It’s not your circumstance that determines your worth, it’s how you rise from the ashes after everything burns.”

“You’re really too attractive for your own good,” I say. His head snaps up, a grin sneaking on his face as he saunters over, stepping behind me and pressing kisses to my neck.

“And I want you to tell me you weren’t with Moira,” I rush out, heat singeing my cheeks. He pauses. “Ever?” I cringe. “Well, obviously not now. I know you’d be lying.” His fingers tilt my chin up until I’m staring into his eyes. “I haven’t been with Moira, or any other woman, since the moment I touched you.”

“Are you going to kill him?” I whisper. He sighs. “You need to understand, your father, he’s taken almost everything from me.” His thumb brushes across my lip. “And while I would do anything you asked, please, don’t ask me for this.”

“But I…” Tears well behind my eyes. “He’s my father.” “Yes, well.” His head cocks to the side. “He’s the one who killed mine.”

“For the record.” He dips his head down, the tips of his hair tickling my neck as he presses kisses to my skin. “I would give you the world. You simply have to ask. You want kids? Done.” He presses his lips to my jaw. My stomach tightens. “You want to stay here and never work again?” Another kiss, this time just beneath my ear. “Done.” My core flutters, heat spreading through me. “You want to watch the world burn?” “Let me guess, you’ll set it on fire?” I ask. He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me and settling into my bones. “No, darling. I’ll hand you the match

and stand at your back, watching you become queen of the ashes.”

“Darling, if I’m the dark, then you’re the stars.”

“So good to me,” he praises. “So absolutely perfect.” My chest warms, satisfaction wrapping around me like a heated blanket on a winter’s night. I lean into his touch. “James?” “Yes, darling?” “I think I love you.”

I grin against him, warmth spreading through my chest, my arms wrapping around his neck. “Only yours, James Barrie.” “And always yours, Wendy darling.” He kisses my jaw. “Every night.” “And straight on ’til morning.”