Page 118 of Serpent King's Prisoner

“When you told me I was just a hole for your pleasure, I should have hated you. But I didn’t. It was actually the hottest thing I’d ever heard in my life.”

His eyes widened as my words hung heavy in the tense silence that followed. I could see the shock etched on his face, his mind whirring as he processed what I’d just revealed.

For a few moments he said nothing, his gaze fixed into the distance with a distant look on his face. “I’ve done some horrible things,” he began hoarsely, breaking the silence. His voice was barely audible above the hum of the car engine. “And you’re telling me...it turns you on?”

“Not the violence, not the pain...but the surrender,” I admitted, my heart beating a wild rhythm in my chest. My gaze fell to my hands, clasped tightly in my lap to stop them from trembling. “The fact that you wanted me enough to lose control. The way you looked at me like you always wanted to take a bite. I…I wanted that. And I could have told you I wanted that. I just wish you had asked.”

His eyes were on me now, his expression unreadable. “I should have asked,” he admitted, the bitterness of regret evident in his voice. “And I can’t apologize enough for not doing so.”

A silence settled in the car. One filled with the weight of apologies and confessions, of shared guilt and the dangerous allure of surrender.

“I should hate you for what you did,” I finally said, my voice a hushed whisper against the hum of the engine. “And part of me does. But...there’s also this other part that doesn’t.”

“Do you even know what you’re saying?” He looked at me with the intensity that always seemed to make my heart race.

“I know exactly what I’m saying.” With a deep breath, I met his gaze squarely. “I’m saying that...I want to try again. Only this time...on my terms.”

“And what are your terms?”

“Well,” I said. “We can figure that out as we plan the wedding.”

The words startled even me.

“Are you saying yes?” he asked.

I nodded, watching the shock, relief, and a million other emotions play across his face. “I’m saying yes,” I confirmed, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yes to the proposal. Yes to you, Nathan...but only if things change.”

They were going to change no matter what. He just didn’t know. There was no way for him to know.

And if we were married, I would be in a better position to protect him when the time came to arrest and prosecute his father.

He reached out, his hand hovering just short of brushing against mine. He seemed to be waiting for my permission. I gave it, extending my hand towards him and letting our fingers brush together. He took my hand, squeezing gently.

“The past can’t be rewritten,” he said quietly, his dark eyes never leaving mine. “But the future...we could write that together.”

“I’d like that,” I admitted softly. And I would like that–if only I had a way to make it happen. Images of my father, of the job I had sworn to do, flickered across my mind. But there was no denying the truth that pulsed between Nathan and me—a truth as raw and undeniable as the need in his eyes.

“So we’re getting married.”

“Yes,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

The car swerved to the side of the road so suddenly I caught my breath. Nathan reached for me, his urgency matching my own as our lips met in a kiss that sealed our fates. His hands were everywhere, pulling me closer until I straddled him, the city a blur beyond the windows.

“God, I love you,” he breathed against my lips, and as I moved against him, the world outside faded away. It was just us—flawed, broken, but fiercely alive. “Do you want this? Do you want me?”

“Yes,” I said into his mouth. “Yes.”

I moved against him, feeling him hard and ready beneath me. I reached down to unbuckle his belt when he stopped my hand, his fingers closing around my wrist in a gentle but firm grip.

“Wait,” he said, pulling back slightly. His eyes searched mine, almost uncertain. “Are you sure?”

I nodded, my heart pounding. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” I said.

“Good,” he replied, shoving the fabric of my panties aside and stroking my clit, his fingers moving down toward my opening.

“Then this is the beginning,” he whispered, his fingers pressing into me. I gasped at the sensation, my fingers digging into his shoulders. This was not a man taking what he wanted; it was a man offering himself to me.

Nathan’s eyes never left mine as he moved within me. His touch was firm but careful, every stroke meant to bring me pleasure and not just satisfy his own desire. For the first time, there was no rush; no urgency fleeting as the night. It was just us–Nathan and Abby, locked in an intimate dance too profound for words.

---