Free TROUBLE 3 by Kristina Weaver

hips grinding up, seeking a harder pressure. He’s so controlled I can’t stand it, and I’m considering giving myself an orgasm when he thrusts a finger into me and growls, losing all thought.
    “Jesus. You’re always so ready for me,” he snarls, pulling his finger out to line his cock up to my opening.
    He bottoms out on the first thrust and I scream my pleasure, pushing back into him with every thrust.
    “Oh God, you’re so beautiful.”
    I don’t quite agree, since I’ve seen my sex face, but I’m too lost in the sensation of him filling me, taking me and owning me, to do anything but fuck him back and reach for the orgasm pooling low in my belly.
    It strikes so fast I bow up and shriek, pulling him closer when the contractions start. I’m convulsing, pleading, screaming out my pleasure when he tenses above me and fills me, his own orgasms hitting so strongly that we’re a sweaty, fluid-slicked mess when it’s over.
    “I love you.”
    He grunts and rolls to his back, pulling me onto his chest for a kiss that curls my toes.
    “You’ve gotten what you want, minx. Now go back to sleep, my baby needs you strong.”
    What a lovable bastard, I think, snuggling down with a contented sigh.
    One of these days he’s going to slip and let those words out.
                                    ************************************
     
    “Oh, for the love of God. Really?”
    “Yes, really,” I answer, accepting the glass of ginger ale Lena hands me as she and Nat drop onto the sofa across from my seat and sip their own drinks.
    “What did Greg say when he found out?”
    “He went nuts, obviously. I swear, for such a controlled guy he has a major temper problem. Not that I blame him or anything. I mean, I was pissed when they pulled up the footage, but it’s pretty conclusive. It was definitely Farns.”
    So here’s the rundown. Remember my boss, Jordan, the guy I’d practically gotten fired and booted from a company that had been owned by his wife’s Uncle Yates?
    Yeah, turns out he owns and was driving that SUV. The cops had pulled up the camera footage, and wham bam, thank you ma’am, there he was, tailgating the heck out of me.
    I’d seen the footage and been horrified, partly at his actions and partly because my fear face is so weird. But the proof is there, and they’d arrested him soon after confirming that the un-plated SUV is his.
    He cracked like an egg when they’d questioned him, and admitted to wanting to scare me, sort of his revenge on Greg for taking over the agency and firing him.
    I feel almost sorry for the man. He’s looking at three years for reckless endangerment, and while I certainly blame him for what happened and can’t forgive what could have happened — like losing my little fetus — I forgive him. Greg, on the other hand, is so mad he’s violent every time the names Jordan or Farns is mentioned.
    I don’t like the guy, but nobody deserves to be left alone with my husband after that. Thank God he can’t get to him.
    He’d only been trying to scare me. It’s not his fault the brakes on the rental car had failed, something that’s made my husband furious enough to ruin them.
    One less car rental agency in the world won’t kill anyone, but I feel sorry for the guy who owns it. Greg is ruthless.
    “So then everything is back to usual. I was so scared when Greg told Taylor about the accident. They were acting like you were in imminent danger or something. And don’t even get me started on the non-visitation thing,” Lena mutters, still smarting from Greg’s rudeness the day I’d had the accident.
    They’d all rushed to the hospital, only to be turned away by my tyrannical husband. According to him, he wasn’t about to let anyone near me until he knew what had happened. I, of course, have told him what a paranoid psycho he is, and he’s conceded the point grudgingly.
    Lena’s still a little pissed, though, so she only visits when he’s