Tuesday, October 30, 2018






















































I would kill for her.

Harper


The night Arsen killed my father was the first time I realized the lengths he’d go to keep me safe. He might have done it to protect me, but he was still convicted and locked away for seven years.
And for that entire time I waited for him, knowing that once he was released, things needed to be said, the truth needed to be spoken.
And that day was today.
I loved him, but the look he gave me, the possessiveness and pent-up arousal reflected in his eyes … had me realizing one thing.
Now more than ever, he wouldn’t let me go.

Arsen

I went to prison for Harper, and I’d do it all over again to make sure she was safe. She was all I thought about the entire time I was behind bars, and it was her weekly visits that got me through the years, even if I tried pushing her away.
But after seven years of being locked up, I was finally released … and I was going to make her mine.


Warning: This is a short, dirty story about a hero who will go to any lengths to make sure the woman he loves is safe. With darker undertones and graphic scenes, there may be material some readers find offensive.












Harper

I’d thought about this moment plenty of times, fantasized about how it would be to finally have Arsen to myself. It would be passionate, consuming … filthy. It would take my breath away and leave me a shaking mess.
I knew this because when I looked at Arsen, that’s how I felt. He didn’t even have to touch me, didn’t have to say one word. Just a look in my direction and my knees threatened to buckle, my heart racing … my pussy becoming wet.
So I knew being with him in this way, sexually, possessively … intensely, would be mind-numbing.
And it was.
It is.
I was on the bed, totally naked, my legs spread, and Arsen staring at me like he was barely hanging on to his control.
I knew the feeling.
We were both naked, and as much as I knew we should take things slow, savor this, I knew it wouldn’t go down that way.
I didn’t want it to.
My throat was tight, my mouth dry.
Every hard ridge, dip, and bulge of his muscles was shown in startling clarity, and my heart jackknifed behind my ribs. Arsen was big and muscular, far larger than what he’d been before going to prison. He looked like a man now, hard edges and a fierce composure.
And his tattoos … far more than he’d had before going into prison. They were dangerous, frightening, and even aggressive in their appearance.
And they turned me on even more.
So much strength it made me breathless.
“Harper,” he whispered in this gruff voice, pitched low, deadly. “I want to make this good for you, baby.”
“Don’t hold back.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I don’t want easy or gentle. I just want you.”
I was wet, almost embarrassingly so.
He moved back enough that I could see the long, hard, impressive length of his shaft.
He had a dark line of hair that started right below his belly button and continued its downward path to his cock.
My mouth dried at the size of him.
The thought came to mind that he was so thick and long I didn’t know if he’d fit comfortably inside of me. It was a ludicrous thought, because I knew I was made for him, built for whatever he had to give me. But I didn’t care, because I’d take every last inch of him.
“Harper, baby girl, I’m hanging onto a thread here, and you staring at my dick isn’t helping my self-control.” His voice was sharp, like a serrated blade running across my naked body.
I shivered in response and lifted my gaze to look into his face.
His eyes were half-closed, his head lowered. Arsen looked feral, which matched his outward appearance to a T. He reached down and grabbed his cock, stroking the thick, long length obscenely. “You want this?”
“God,” I whispered, that lone word leaving me. “Yes.” I stared into his darkened eyes again, seeing my beautiful monster standing before me, ready to claim me. “Come here. Take me.”


















Jenika Snow, a USA Today bestselling author, lives in the northeast with her husband and their children.

She prefers gloomy days, eats the topping off of her pizza first, and prefers to wear socks year round.



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