Page 121 of Serpent King's Prisoner

“Off,” was all she said, tugging at the elastic band of my underwear.

I lifted my hips, and she stripped them off, tossing them aside like they were nothing more than an afterthought. There, under her intense green gaze, I felt exposed but not vulnerable, laid bare but ready for battle—a war where every touch was a victory, every moan a conquest.

“Abby,” I said, my voice rough like gravel, “come here.”

She stood at the foot of the bed, a smirk playing on her lips. “You want me to suck your cock, Nathan?” Her tone was teasing, challenging.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with desire. That she could have this power over me, make me feel so damn desperate for her, was both maddening and intoxicating. “Yes,” I admitted without hesitation. My pride had no place here, not when every fiber of my being screamed for her touch. “Please, Abby. I need your hot mouth on me. Fuck, I love you, so please…please...”

Her eyes held mine, a spark igniting in their depths as she knelt between my spread legs. The heat of her breath brushed against me before her lips even made contact, sending a shockwave through my system.

“Say it again,” she demanded, her fingertips skating along my inner thigh.

“I love you, Abby. So damn much.” It was more than a plea; it was a truth that poured from my soul, raw and unfiltered—and my words tumbled into a groan as she answered my pleas.

Abby’s lips parted, and she took me into her mouth. The warmth, the wetness—it enveloped me, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through my body. She moved slowly at first, watching me with those piercing eyes that seemed to see right through me. There was no hiding from her, not now, not ever.

“Look at me,” she murmured against my skin, her voice a velvet caress that sent shivers across my flesh.

I did. I couldn’t look away if I tried. There was something about the way she kept eye contact, something fiercely intimate and powerful that held me captive. Every bob of her head, every swirl of her tongue, was a testament to the connection between us—an unspoken promise that went beyond the physical act.

“Fuck, Abby,” I groaned, my fingers threading through her hair, guiding her gently. But she set the pace, she controlled the moment, and I was merely along for the ride—a ride that threatened to unravel me at any second.

Her mouth worked over me with a relentless intensity that had my resolve fraying at the edges. The pressure built within me, coiling tighter like a spring wound to its breaking point. I was close, so damn close.

“Abby,” I gasped, my voice hoarse with need. “I’m gonna—“

But then she stopped abruptly and pulled away, leaving me aching and pulsing in the cool air of the room. She crawled up my body, her movements lithe and deliberate, shedding her bra with a simple flick of her wrist. Her bare breasts were a vision of temptation, but when I reached for them, craving the softness of her skin against my palms, she slapped my hands away playfully.

“Uh-uh,” she teased, pinning my wrists above my head with surprising strength—a strength I knew she possessed but rarely wielded against me. “I thought I was in charge for once.”

The sight of Abby asserting control was a different kind of intoxicating. It was as if she was tapping into something primal within us both. The same part of me that could orchestrate violence in the shadows of the underworld craved this surrender to her will.

She positioned herself above me, teasing the tip of my cock with the slick heat of her pussy. The sensation was maddening. Every inch of my being screamed for more—for release, for the sheer ecstasy of being inside her.

“Abby,” I growled, my voice laced with every ounce of desire and desperation clawing inside me. “Please.”

“Say it again,” she demanded, her voice low and commanding, her green eyes locked onto mine.

“Please,” I begged, more forcefully this time. “I need you.”

With a smirk playing on her lips, she maintained her grip on my wrists, the power dynamic between us shifting and swirling like the fog that blanketed the city outside. She continued to tease me, sliding just the slightest bit down before pulling away, hovering at the brink of what we both needed

“Abby,” I pleaded once more, my entire world narrowing down to the woman who straddled me, the woman who held me captive in more ways than one. “I need to be inside you.”

There was no room for pride or ego in this moment. There was only Abby and the raw hunger that burned through my veins, a hunger that she stoked with every calculated movement, every coy glance.

“Patience, Fangs,” she whispered, using the nickname that normally only echoed in the alleys and back rooms of my territory. Hearing it from her lips was a thrill all its own—like she was finally here in the dark with me. “You’ll get what you need. But on my terms.”

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Finally, Abby’s expression softened, the corners of her mouth turning up in a satisfied smile as she read the naked desire on my face. She released my wrists and positioned herself above me, her hips hovering just inches from mine.

Then, with deliberate slowness that had me clenching my fists against the sheets, she lowered herself onto me.

“Ah, fuck,” I groaned as she took me in, inch by excruciating inch. Every part of my body strained toward her, wanting to drive deeper, but she set the pace—a slow, torturous rhythm that had my head spinning.

As she began to move, her riding became more confident, more assertive. She leaned in close, her hands braced on my chest, her freckles a constellation I’d follow anywhere. Her hips rolled in a sensual dance that spoke of both control and abandon, and I was caught in the eye of her storm, completely at her mercy.

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