Sinful Trigger by Samantha Morgan

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He rides for a motorcycle club. I kill for a living.

We were never supposed to cross paths let alone end up chasing the same target across state lines. But from the second the sexy, tattooed biker looked at me like he wanted to drag me into sin, walking away stopped being an option.

Now we’re sharing motel rooms, secrets, and enough tension to start a war. He thinks I’m dangerous and if he knew the truth about me? He’d be right.

Too bad I’m already addicted to the way he touches me like he knows exactly how to break me. And if this mission goes sideways, one of us is ending up dead.

Be Warned: light BDSM, sex toys

 

Excerpt:

My legs were almost losing their balance, but he picked me up like I weighed nothing. I wrapped my legs around him tightly, clinging to him for support. The position allowed him to penetrate even deeper, the walls of my dripping pussy wrapping tightly around him.

“You are so tight—it drives me insane.”

I was unwilling to maintain eye contact with him. Something about that made me feel bare in ways that I hated. I wanted a semblance of control, so I wouldn’t lose myself in what was meant to be a one-night stand.

But even at that, his scent locked around me tightly like a leech, his rough, wicked hands roved my body like he was marking and imprinting me at the same time.

It was too much—too consuming.

He pulled out of me, and thrust back in, slamming me against the wall with reverberating force.

His lips found my ear, dragging against it. “I’m not a nice man, Tempest. I’ll fuck you so hard, your moans will tear down this alley.”

“Just get it over with,” I snapped.

I didn’t understand what he meant until he slammed back into me with a brute force that made me gasp. I barely had the chance to catch my breath when he did it again. I grabbed onto his back, my nails digging through the fabric of his shirt.

“Oh, God.”

He fucked as ruthlessly as he looked, taking from me like he didn’t care what the consequences might be.

My eyes snapped shut, and I bit down on my lips to stifle my moans, but it wasn’t working.

“You should see how breathtaking you look right now shattering around my cock,” he murmured huskily, running his lips up and down my raging pulse.

Every time my legs threatened to slip off him, he grabbed onto me effortlessly, holding me up as he fucked my defiance out of me. His wicked cock thrust in and out of me without letting me take a moment to catch my breath. Each stroke wrecked me more than the last, stripping me of every shred of control I had left.

He fucked me like he hated me, and the moans that spilled out of my mouth echoed through the alley.

His thrusts were pitiless and punishing, wrenching out sounds I didn’t even think I was capable of making.

“Oh, God—ugh, fuck. Please—”

“Please, what?” he growled.

“I can’t—I don’t know how—”

“Yes, you do.” He wrapped his hand around my throat, choking me until my moans started coming out faint and throaty.

A sob ripped out of me because of how good it felt to be used, to not be in control. His cock ruined me until I was a sobbing, whimpering mess.

I scratched and clawed at his back, but he didn’t flinch. I was so sure his scalp would be a burning mess because of how hard I had tugged at his hair.

“Such a good little slut for my cock, aren’t you, Tempest?” He choked me harder.

All it did was make me drip around his cock like a little whore. It should be offensive, and degrading even, that he called me his little slut, but I wanted more of his degrading words. I was being fucked and pounded like a dirty little ragdoll, and all I could do was moan helplessly for more.

“I want to come, oh, God, I’m going to come. Fuck.”

“Come for me, Tempest.”

He swallowed my moans with his harsh, possessive kiss. It suppressed my sobs as my orgasm rocked through me with brutal force. He spilled his cum inside me once he hit his release. The kiss turned slow, sloppy, and sensual, and then he reluctantly let me go.

“You look perfectly fucked.” He glided his fingers over my lips and I moaned. His cock was still inside me, but I didn’t move.

Maybe because I was still trying to wrap my head around what I had just done.

“You never told me your name.”

“It’s Dahlia.”

He smirked. “It’s nice to meet you, Dahlia. I’m Kane. I think my cock is fond of you.”

I wanted to hurl a sassy comeback at him, but I heard my phone beep. He knew I wanted to move because I was twitching, so he slowly let me go.

I reached for my phone in my coat that had been tossed on the ground.

It was a text from Wraith.