Page 27 of Prey
My body responds with a rush of heat so intense it makes me dizzy. What the fuck is wrong with me? This man kidnapped me, locked me in a concrete box, and I’m getting wet from his hand around my throat?
My stepfather broke something in me and rewired my circuits wrong. But knowing that doesn’t stop the ache between my legs, doesn’t stop my hips from pressing forward seeking friction.
Nikolai’s thumb strokes again, and I bite back a whimper.
Maybe this is how I get out. The thought crystallizes through the haze of unwanted desire. He wants me—that much is obvious from the way his cock strains against his pants. If I give him what he wants, maybe he gets careless. Maybe the locks get left open a second too long. Maybe he will start trusting me.
It’s been—Christ, almost two years since I let anyone touch me. Two years of careful distance, of walking away from interested glances, of battery-operated satisfaction when the need got too strong. My body’s starved for contact, even if it comes from someone who sees me as property.
“Say it again.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
His pupils dilate further, if that’s even possible. “Mine.”
My thighs clench, and he notices. Of course he notices. Those winter eyes miss nothing.
“You want this.” Not a question. He sounds wrecked, like the knowledge is destroying him. “You want me.”
I should play the terrified captive, make him work for every inch of trust. But my body’s already given me away—the hard points of my nipples visible through my shirt, and I’m practically riding his thigh where it’s pressed between my legs.
“I want—” My voice cracks. I swallow, try again. “I want to see your face.”
He goes still. Even his breath stops for a moment.
“No.”
“Why not?” I press, even as his hand tightens around my throat in warning. “If I’m yours, don’t I deserve to see who owns me?”
The growl that escapes him vibrates through me where we’re pressed together.
His grip on my throat loosens as I drop to my knees, concrete biting through my thin pants. My hands find his belt, fingers working at the buckle with more confidence than I feel.
His hand shoots down, iron grip circling my wrist. “What are you doing?”
The rumble in his voice sends another pulse of heat through me. I look up at him through my lashes, letting my free hand rest against his thigh. The muscle tenses under my touch.
“I’m bored.” The words come out steadier than expected. “And from what I can feel, you’ve got something rather substantial I can service.”
His whole body goes rigid. The hand around my wrist tightens enough to hurt, but he doesn’t pull me away. Nikolai simply stares down at me with such intense desire.
“You don’t—” His voice catches. “This isn’t how this works.”
“How does it work then?” I shift closer on my knees, letting my breath ghost over the obvious bulge in his pants. “You keep me locked up, bring me food, watch me sleep? That’s the whole plan?”
His cock twitches visibly through the fabric.
“Or maybe this is exactly how it works.” I turn my trapped wrist, testing his grip. Not trying to escape, just feeling the strength there. “Maybe you’ve been wanting this since you first saw me. Maybe that’s why I’m here instead of wherever you usually keep your acquisitions.”
“Stop talking.”
But he still hasn’t moved. Hasn’t pulled me away or stepped back. Just stands there trembling with restraint while I kneel at his feet.
I lean forward, press my mouth against the fabric covering his erection. Just the barest pressure, but his whole body jerks as if I’ve electrocuted him. The sound that tears from him is barely human—desperate and furious and hungry all at once.
“Jenna,” he growls.
“Let me.” I get my wrist free of his grip, and bring both hands to his belt. “You want this. I want this. What’s the problem?”
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. I don’t want this—not really. What I want is leverage. Trust. A crack in his control I can exploit. But my body’s singing a different song, arousal making me slick between my thighs.
