Hard Way by Katie Porter Page A

around her knees. Knife safely stowed, he pulled her up and flush with his chest. She was nude from the waist down, and he still wore all of his clothes. He didn’t need it to be any other way, not when she was there to be used.
    “You didn’t think this was it, did you? The lovely Mrs. Christiansen gets what she wants and leaves her husband to twist? Oh, no.”
    “I have a job.”
    “Which I hate. So guess who wins? We’re not close to being finished.”
    Dash hauled her out of the trunk, supporting her the whole way. She was trembling and barely able to walk. He caught sight of the arm he’d slung over his shoulder. Welts had risen up in red bands around her wrist.
    Later, some rational part of him reminded. Take care of her later. You brought supplies. She’ll be fine.
    Hell, he hoped so.
    His momentary lapse in concentration meant Sunny got the jump on him. She knocked sideways and up, using her shoulder as a well-aimed battering ram. The momentum was enough to set Dash off balance. He stumbled back a few feet. She lurched, balanced herself, tried to run.
    At first he laughed, cruelly, as his arousal jacked up another thousand percent. He caught her around the waist before she had the opportunity to fall. He wouldn’t even allow that much control over how this went down.
    “Gonna have to hit harder than that, bitch.” He sounded like a demon. Felt like one.
    They’d strayed from the blacktop. Good. She was the most put-together, beautiful woman he’d ever known. Time to drag her down into the dirt. He’d make her eat it if he wanted to.
    One solid push and she was on her hands and knees. Wobbly. She probably stayed on all fours by sheer force of will.
    “Stay right there or I fuck your ass with the end of a wrench, not my dick.”
    A long, shaking moan worked from her mouth down to her toes. “Liam,” she whispered.
    He squatted and tilted her face toward the moonlight. It wasn’t a plea or a question or a way of begging off. Yes, her cheeks were wet with tears and sweat. But her eyes were as bright and snapping with desire as he’d ever seen.
    “Stay just like this. Hands and knees. Don’t you test me.”
    Dash shut the trunk to make sure the light wouldn’t attract attention. Only the silver disk of a moon shone on their private perversion.
    When he returned to Sunny, she was shaking from head to toe. Shock. Cold. Arousal. Dash merely folded over her body and shoved his prick home.
    “Make that butt pretty for me,” he growled. “Shove it up. You don’t want me to hit your face, gorgeous. So get it down in the dirt. I don’t want to see anything but your ass slamming back. Let your body beg for me.”
    She complied. Spine arched. Face down. One cheek nestled in the dry, dusty earth.
    “God. Fucking Christ . No more fight left, Sunny? I would’ve thought you had more in you.”
    Her cry was frustration, but maybe something more. More need. More eagerness. Dash couldn’t tell, and right then, he didn’t want to. She kicked her calves up and down, like a mermaid trapped on land, flailing her tail. Bound knees meant only her heels connected with his upper thighs.
    “More. C’mon. Gimme what you got, you lazy, piece-of-shit whore.”
    She reared half upright and butted the back of her skull against his forehead. Dash saw stars. He lost her pussy. Cool air slid across his slickened cock. She only managed to crawl a few yards.
    Oh, damn .
    That. He wanted that. Taking down a worthy opponent.
    Standing, he stalked toward her. His jeans were open, with his prick jutting out from the waistband of his boxer briefs—leading him toward her.
    “I’m done, Liam.” She turned onto her back to crab crawl away from him. “Game over. Enough.”
    “No.”
    He caught her ankles and dragged her ass across the ground. Soon he was straddling the outsides of her bound knees, pushing them up toward her chest. She needed to be bare. He’d take her again, and he wanted to see her tits bounce with every