Snare: Road Kill MC (A Novel) by Marata Eros Page B

you doing?” My voice squeaks.
    Our hands play tug of war with the scrap of terrycloth.
    “Don't play me. You can be naked in front of fifty guys—you can be naked in front of your stepbrother.”
    He rips the towel down, and my breasts pop out. The living room is cool compared to the bathroom, and my nipples harden instantly.
    Snare tosses the towel across the room, and it lands in a damp pile by the door.
    Shame flames through me, and I cover my breasts and sex from the only man I ever had sex with.
    Snare growls and leans down.
    Heartbeats tear through my chest like acid bullets. He's going to hurt me. Punish me for leaving. My stepbrother that was tender with every piece of me, every moment we were together.
    “You fucking kill me.” His arms go around me, his calloused hands holding my shoulders, and he takes my nipple into his mouth. Licking, biting, and sucking on the pebbled flesh until my hands find their way to tangle in his short inky hair.
    “Snare,” I breathe against him, forgetting his assumptions—his insults. The only things that matter are his hands on my body and his mouth on my nipple.
    His hands tighten, and he engulfs my much smaller body against his own. I'm so tiny in his arms I feel like he's the sun and I remain in the shadow of his body, leeching his warmth as his fingers heat my body, his wet tongue licking my nipples to peaks of readiness.
    He thinks you're a whore.
    I move away, and his grip on me tightens. “You're not going anywhere. I've waited years for you. Wanted to forget you, couldn't. Now you're here, and we're fucking, Sara.”
    “No,” I say, trying to push him away. Save him.
    His eyes meet mine, smoldering Caribbean seas in his dark face. “I won't force you.” He grabs my hand and puts it on a healthy erection.
    “Oh God,” I murmur, remembering every huge inch inside me. My pussy floods with want.
    “You want that inside your pussy.” Statement of fact.
    I do. Want it. I hang onto my sanity by a thread. My convictions. “No—I can't, Snare.”
    He shoots away from me. “Why? Because I'm your stepbrother?” His eyes are vicious. His voice drops an ominous octave. “Because we're not blood, Sara.”
    We are. He's so deep in my blood I couldn't resist him if I tried. I have tried. And now Snare stands before me, and I can't deny him. I'm so wet from three minutes with his tongue on my boobs I can feel the wetness of my arousal running down my inner thigh.
    He walks back to me and cups the side of my face. “I'm not talking about why your mouth was on some other guy's dick. I'm talking about us fucking and me owning your pussy. It's as simple as that.”
    I jerk away from his touch. “Why are you talking like that?”
    He grabs my arm, yanking me against him. Snare slams his lips on mine, crushing them.
    I open my mouth to his, and he lifts me by one hand and inserts his thumb in my wet center and I gasp, my head tilting back in a pained sigh.
    His lips move to my throat as his thumb works inside my entrance, and his four fingers hold me against him.
    “Ah,” he moans against my neck.
    My hips downstroke against his penetration, and Snare begins walking while I have my arms wrapped around his neck, hanging on for dear life even as I grunt, spreading my legs around his thumb.
    Snare comes up for air, piercing me with his gaze. “God, Sara.” His voice is shaky.
    He lays me down on my bed, his thumb slipping out of me. That other hardness that’s so huge in him is melting, but his gaze is still ice.
    His eyes run down my naked body, and I blush. Hundreds of men have seen me naked. They've gotten a touch of my body as I bend for bills. But I never had a man's eyes on me that mattered. Until now.
    Until Snare.
    His hands peel my thighs apart, spreading me wide, my ankles hovering at the edge of the bed.
    Snare's fingertips spread my labia apart, and I sigh. Tossing my arms behind my head, I grip the metal bars of my headboard as he sinks his finger between my