Page 21 of Serpent King's Prisoner

Jesus, this man was hot.

The bass throbbed through the club, a living thing that matched the pulse in my veins. I was lost in the beat, in the way Nathan moved against me, his arms like coiled serpents around my waist. His strength wasn’t just felt—it was something I breathed in, intoxicating and undeniable. He smelled so good, like expensive champagne and woodsy cologne, like clean laundry detergent.

And as the warmth of his body seeped into mine, for a moment, the line between FBI agent and woman blurred dangerously. I was there working. Until now.

Nathan made me lose my goddamn mind.

“Abby,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the music. I tilted my head up to find his eyes, those depths of midnight that looked like they hid shadows.

I opened my mouth to answer him, but then his lips were on mine, and I couldn’t think about anything else. It wasn’t soft—nothing about Nathan was soft—but it wasn’t harsh either. It was a demand, one my body answered without hesitation.

My fingers found his hair, a black silk cascade that slipped through my grip as I pulled him closer. We kissed with the fervor of the forbidden, the kind of passion that burned bright and fast, fated to leave only ashes. Breathless, we broke apart, our chests heaving, and I saw the dragon tattoo peeking from under his shirt.

I didn’t have much time to think about it because the world spun back into focus slowly, and before I could think coherently about what was going on, his hands, strong and unyielding, captured mine as they wandered over the crisp fabric of his shirt. With a deliberate motion, he guided my right hand lower, his intentions clear as my fingers brushed against the unmistakable hardness beneath his trousers. I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise, but I could feel my entire body tingling with anticipation.

“Abby,” Nathan’s voice was a husky whisper, laden with a challenge, “do you realize what you’re doing to me?”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t think he realized what he was doing to me.

The intensity of his gaze held me captive, and I felt the thrill of power as much as I did fear. Fear of how deeply this man could make me feel, even when I shouldn’t feel anything at all.

Without breaking eye contact, I let my hand close around his erection, the heat of him seeping through the fabric and branding my palm. “That’s quite bold of you,” I remarked, the corner of my mouth lifting into a half-smile that mirrored his own roguish grin. “What if I didn’t want to touch your dick?”

“Didn’t you want to touch my dick?” he asked.

I didn’t answer him again, teasing him with a look instead.

“Bold is my middle name,” he quipped back, the low timbre of his voice vibrating through me. “Do you like it?”

Leaning in closer, I whispered against the stubble on his jaw, “I like it a lot.”

“Good,” Nathan breathed out, his breath warm against my skin. “Because there’s a way you can like it even better.” His hand wrapped around mine, guiding our entwined fingers away from his body.

“Are we going somewhere private?” I guessed, thinking of the distance between us and wherever ‘private’ might lead. The idea of being alone with him, away from the prying eyes and overbearing heat of the club, sent a thrill down my spine.

“Very private,” he responded, his gaze never leaving mine. But rather than leading me toward the exit, Nathan pulled me around a corner—a darkened alcove masked by shadows and the heavy beat of the music. “No one will bother us here.”

Before I could say anything, Nathan dropped to his knees with an aggressive grace. My heart hammered against my ribcage as I felt his hands at my thighs, pushing up the hem of my dress. For a single heartbeat, I considered the madness of this, the recklessness. Agent Abby Harper doesn’t lose control—not in her line of work, not in a fucking nightclub, not with a man she barely knew.

And yet, he was on his knees in front of me and thinking about anything but his very presence was making me crazy.

I told myself to get a grip. I told myself that I needed to tell him to stop. I was there on a mission…

But then his hand was on me, pushing the fabric of my panties aside, and then his mouth was on me, and every one of my thoughts shattered.

I should’ve told him to stop, but what came out was a gasp as I felt him part my folds with his tongue. His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place with a possessiveness that should have frightened me. Instead, it anchored me to the moment, to the pleasure of his mouth working me over with a fervor that left no room for doubt or regret.

For a second, I contemplated pushing him away—just one push, and I’d reclaim the high ground. But my hands betrayed me, reaching into the silken strands of his black hair instead, pulling him closer. Encouraging him. Letting go.

His movements were relentless, each stroke of his tongue sending jolts of pleasure coursing through me. I should have been thinking about my cover, about the mission, about anything but the skilled mouth of this stunning man between my legs. And yet, here I was, reduced to moans and whimpers, as he was about to make me come on his tongue…in public.

The pulsating beats of the club were a distant rumble, drowned out by the rush of blood in my ears and the desperate rhythm of my own heart. As he stood, Nathan’s hands traveled up to cradle my face, his thumbs wiping away the evidence of what he’d just done to me.

“God, Abby, you taste amazing,” he muttered, and I knew it was true. “Can I fuck you?”

“Yes,” I whimpered against his lips. “Yes, please.”

He shifted, aligning himself with me, his intentions clear even without words. I didn’t know when he’d taken his cock out, but I felt it a moment later–big, hard, fucking incredible. He entered me with a certainty that left no space for hesitation, pressing me against the cool wall. The contrast only heightened the heat between us.

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