Page 74 of Serpent King's Prisoner

The green dress landed in a silken heap on the bed, and she stood there waiting, her confidence wavering for a moment under my intense gaze. I picked up the black gown and held it open for her, watching as she stepped into its luxurious embrace.

“Zip me up?” Abby’s voice was soft, almost hopeful, and it tugged at something deep within me—a need to protect, to cherish, even as I planned to dominate.

I pulled the zipper up slowly, savoring the closeness, my hands brushing against her sides, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the thin fabric. Once the gown hugged her curves, I turned her towards the full-length mirror, flanked by two massive monstera plants. My hands roamed up to her chest, cupping her tits through the dress, and I leaned in close, my lips grazing her pulse point just below her ear.

“Look at yourself,” I whispered, my breath hot on her skin. “Every inch the queen I know you are.”

“I shouldn’t have much need for evening gowns,” Abby said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes met mine in the reflection, a mix of defiance and vulnerability that made my heart race.

“You don’t know what you’ll need,” I countered, my voice low and steady. “I’m a very rich man, Abby. You’re going to be on my arm for all kinds of events.”

The underlying message was clear: she was mine, and I would display her as such.

I hadn’t brought her up here to fuck her…but now, seeing her like this, in clothes I’d bought for her, I wanted her. My cock was getting hard fast, and I needed to be inside her. I was sure she could feel my erection pressing against her back, her eyes flickering to mine in the mirror.

“Let’s see something else,” I said, voice rough with desire as I reached for the zipper. The sound of it lowering seemed unnaturally loud in the room—and I almost bent her over right there to fuck her in that evening gown. I would have, if I didn’t want so badly to see her in what I had planned next.

I retreated to the bed, sitting down with more force than necessary. My voice came out as a command: “I want to see the black lingerie now.”

Abby’s eyes flickered with a spark that told me she wasn’t unaffected by this game we played. Naked, she stepped out of the crumpled dress and walked back to where the lingerie lay on the bed—a set of black lace that promised sin and secrets. As she picked it up, I noted her hard pink nipples and red lips, betraying her arousal. It pleased me—this reaction I could draw from her despite everything.

Fuck…everything about her fucking pleased me.

“Put them on,” I said, keeping my voice steady even as my fingers itched to touch her again.

She hesitated, just for a moment, and I couldn’t resist. I reached out, tweaking a nipple, watching closely for her reaction. A sharp intake of breath, her eyelids fluttering—that was all the confirmation I needed.

She slid into the black lace, a tight slip that clung to her curves like it was painted on. The crotchless panties were a bold choice, even for me. She glanced up through her thick lashes, a smirk dancing on her lips. “Really practical, these,” she said, the snark clear in her breathy voice. But there was a glimmer in her green eyes—a silent dare.

I arched an eyebrow. “They’re for easy access,” I said, my tone matter-of-fact. “You should always be ready for me.”

A flush crept over her freckled cheeks, but she didn’t look away.

“Come here,” I crooked my finger, pulling her into my orbit.

She stepped forward, hesitation giving way to a newfound boldness. She straddled me, her hands exploring the terrain of my chest through my shirt. Her touch was light, fleeting, driving me insane with the promise of what could happen next.

“Good girl,” I murmured, leaning back on my elbows, giving her control—for now. Abby’s gaze held mine, fierce and unyielding, as if she was challenging the very darkness in me.

“Am I?” she whispered, her breath warm against my skin.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “Maybe you should show me.”

Abby’s fingers, nimble and deliberate, found the first button of my shirt. She flicked it open with a satisfying pop, her green eyes never leaving mine. The second button followed, then the third, each undoing a little more of the designer clothes that I wore like armor.

She leaned closer, her body pressing against mine in a move that was both innocent and charged with intent. The heat from her skin seeped through the fabric of my clothes, branding me with a need I couldn’t ignore.

Then, she started to grind her hips against me—a slow, torturous rhythm that was pure Abby. She was all soft curves and sweet heat, a contrast to the harsh world I commanded outside these four walls.

“Jesus, Abby,” I growled when I felt the wetness on my pants. Looking down, I saw the darkened fabric where she’d marked me with her arousal. My gut tightened; this woman was under my skin, and she knew it.

“Look what you did,” I chided, my voice thick with desire. “Now clean it up.”

Her eyes flashed, defiant and fiery, as if she relished the push and pull between us.

But my perfect, gorgeous toy did as she was told.

Abby’s gaze locked with mine as she knelt between my legs on the bed, an image of pure temptation. She didn’t break eye contact as she leaned forward, her breath hot through the fabric over my cock. Then her tongue darted out, a wet, warm stroke against the silk of my slacks, cleaning the evidence of her desire from the material.

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