Page 22 of Serpent King's Prisoner

He waited a second, steadying himself. “Fuck,” he said into my ear. “Fuck, you’re so tight, it’s so hot.”

He didn’t let me answer him. His movements were unyielding, every thrust deliberate, designed to bring us both to the brink and beyond. One hand found its way down to circle my clit, his touch expert and unforgiving. I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding on for dear life as the world narrowed down to him, to us, to this perfect storm of sensation.

Our breaths mingled, his kiss swallowing my cries as my body tensed, on the edge of shattering into a million pieces. And when I fell over that precipice, it was with Nathan’s name etched onto my lips, my inner walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed through me.

For a moment, we stayed locked together, the sounds of the club filtering back as reality seeped in. I caught my breath, feeling the aftershocks ripple through me. It was only then that I remembered who I was, an FBI agent supposed to be doing my fucking job.

“Did you come?” I asked him.

“Not yet,” he said. “I would prefer a bed for that.”

He was still inside me as we were having this conversation, my legs wrapped around his waist.

“Are you asking if I want you to come back to my place?” I asked, a smile on my face.

“I wouldn’t hate that–”

Before he could say anything else, he looked a bit puzzled, and then helped set me down. “One second,” he said as he straightened his pants. “Phone call.”

“Oh, okay–”

He held up his hand. “Hold that thought.”

I mean, kind of rude to pick up a call while we weren’t done having sex, but I didn’t know what kind of emergencies this man had in his life. His expression totally changed as his posture did too, rigid with tension while he brought the phone to his ear.

“This better be worth it,” he said into the phone in Mandarin, and then a softer, “It’s fine.”

I listened, though I pretended I didn’t understand a word of it. And as he continued to speak…something became very clear.

Something I should have realized from the outset.

“Yeah, I’ll be there soon,” he was saying, assuming I was ignorant to the conversation happening over the phone. “Keep him alive. You owe me one.”

My heartbeat skittered, almost stopped.

Fuck…of course, of course he was Triad.

He ended the call and faced me, his apology evident even before he spoke. “I’m sorry, Abby. I had a lot of fun tonight.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone against the wall, warmth fading from where he’d been pressed against me. My hair was mussed, my panties yanked aside…and I was drenched in the scent of a killer.

But I had a lead.

And I intended on following it.

Chapter Twelve: Nathan

What I really wanted was to keep fucking this woman.

But duty, as always, called.

The bass from the club’s music still pounded in my veins as I pushed through the crowd, a lingering haze of desire clouding my senses. Exiting into the cool night, I fought to keep my composure, the image of Abby’s curves barely concealed by her glittery dress taunting me. I could have been heading to her place now, ready to bury myself in her tight, clenching heat…

…and instead, I was going to Grant Street Floral to deal with my would-be assassin, if Alex was to believed.

“This had better be damn worth it,” I snarled under my breath, sliding into the driver’s seat of my black Mercedes.

As the engine roared to life, a subtle vibration in my jacket pocket snapped me out of the reverie. I yanked the phone out, glaring at Alex’s name flashing across the screen once again. Without a second thought, I punched the call button and brought the phone to my ear, my grip on the steering wheel tightening until my knuckles turned white.

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