3. Amara

Three

Amara

My heart pounds as Joker leads me across the street, his grip on my wrist unyielding. The cool night air does nothing to calm the fire burning under my skin.

What am I doing? I barely know this guy.

But God, I want him. I can tell he’s fucking craving me. His cock was so fucking hard against my thigh. His breathing ragged. His deep voice cracking. The way he’s thick fingers dug into my curves… my pussy throbs just thinking back on it.

We enter the hotel lobby, Joker’s presence commanding. The concierge nods, not even blinking at his mask. In the elevator, Joker crowds me against the wall, his tall, bulky body caging mine.

“Last chance to back out, sweetheart,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. His clean breath fanning my cheek. The woodsy scent of his cologne going to my head. His manly scent making my nipples pebble and my clit pulse. He’s so big, so hot, so close…

I should say no. I should run. Instead, I meet his hot gaze defiantly.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes flash behind the mask, and he rumbles, “good girl.”

The elevator dings, and suddenly I’m being dragged down the hallway. Joker fumbles with the key card, his earlier composure cracking. As soon as the door opens, he shoves me inside.

I barely have time to take in the luxurious suite before Joker’s on me. His mask comes off, thrown haphazardly on the thick carpet. I barely catch a glimpse of thick, dark brows, strong masculine nose, carved jaw, and full, sensual mouth before it crashes onto mine.

The kiss is brutal, delicious, all-consuming. And his big, strong hands are everywhere, greedy and demanding. I moan into his delicious mouth as he palms my breasts roughly. The mixture of pleasure and pain makes me dizzy.

“Joker,” I gasp as he breaks the kiss to attack my neck. Biting, licking, sucking. “I—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls, biting down hard on my pulse point. “No more talking.”

He spins me around, pressing me face-first against the wall. I feel him fumbling with my clothes, tearing more than removing them. Cool air hits my burning skin as my top and bra are ripped away.

Joker’s hand tangles in my curls, yanking my head back. “Put your hands on the wall. Don’t move them.”

I comply, trembling with a mix of fear and arousal. I hear the clink of his belt, the rustle of fabric. Then he’s pressing against me, all hard muscle and barely restrained violence. The thick column of his dick nestled between the globes of my ass. Precum smearing my skin.

“So fucking pretty,” he whispers in my ear, his voice dark with promise, “you feel so goddamn good…”

Then with one brutal thrust, the thick head pushes through my folds. I cry out, the stretch and burn overwhelming. Joker doesn’t wait for me to adjust, setting a punishing pace.

One hand grips my hip hard enough to bruise, the other one still tangled in my hair. Each thrust drives me against the wall, the pain mixing with pleasure until I can’t tell them apart. The sounds of our skin slapping, the wetness of our mixed juices, our scents. The overwhelming heat and strength of his body.

“This what you wanted?” Joker growls, his breath hot on my neck. “To be used? To be fucked like the little slut you are?”

I should be offended. Instead, his words send a wave of pleasure coursing through my body. “Yes,” I moan, pushing back against him. “God, yes.”

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down my spine. “I’m going to ruin you, Amara. By the time we’re done, you won’t remember your fucking name.”

His big, calloused hand slides around to my front, thick fingers finding my clit. I cry out as he rubs circles, bringing me closer to the edge.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he demands. “Now.”

As if my body was waiting for his command, I shatter. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, leaving me gasping and trembling. My pussy spasming around his thick, hard cock, creaming his balls, clit pulsating.

Joker doesn’t slow down. If anything, his thrusts become more frenzied. With a guttural groan, he stills, jerking inside me. I feel the heavy jets of his cum spray my walls. So much that it slides from my entrance. Deliciously dirty. Fucking intoxicating.

For a moment, we stay like that, both panting heavily. Then Joker pulls out abruptly, leaving me feeling empty and off-balance.

I turn around, wincing slightly. Joker’s already tucking himself back into his dark jeans, his face hard.

“We’re not done yet,”he says, his voice dark and unhinged.

As I watch him stride inside the suite, I realize I’m in way over my head. But my body still thrums with pleasure, and I’m already hungry for more.