Page 40 of Serpent King's Prisoner

I didn’t say anything. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

He silenced my protest with a harsh shove, making me gasp out loud as he bottomed out against my cervix. It hurt…it hurt in such a good way that I couldn’t help but moan. “What you want?” he repeated, his voice sounding amused, contemptuous. “You’re just a hole for me to fill, Abby.” His words were cruel as he bore down into me with a savagery that stirred an unexpected desire.

The way he said it, like he owned me, stirred something in me. A primal need that was greater than the fear that gripped me and my anger at myself for letting him touch me. I felt used, degraded. And…I was pretty sure I was about to have the most intense orgasm of my life.

“Say it,” he ordered, his fingers curling around my throat, just tight enough to be a warning. My chest tightened–not from lack of air but the anticipation of what he wanted me to say. The room spun for a moment as pleasure and pain mixed together, blurring the line between what was real and the dark fantasy Nathan was dragging me into. I felt myself teetering on the edge, the tremors of an impending climax shaking me to my core.

“Say it, Abby,” he repeated, the pressure of his hand on my throat increasing slightly. His eyes bore into mine, challenging me to defy him even as his cock pounded relentlessly into me. The potent mix of fear and arousal was intoxicating.

“I’m just…I’m just a hole for you to use,” I said, choking back on my words, vaguely aware that there were still tears streaming down my face.

“That’s right,” Nathan hissed, approval heavy in his words as he thrust into me with renewed vigor. His hand around my neck tightened just a hair more, the slight discomfort sharpening the pleasure that was building inside me.

And then, the coil inside me snapped again and I was coming undone beneath him. My body convulsed, arching off the bed as I cried out. The pleasure was raw, primal and it stole my breath away. All thoughts were stripped away as an intense wave of climax ripped through me. My vision blurred and dimmed momentarily, only to focus back on Nathan’s dark gaze.

“That’s it, Abby,” he rasped out, his voice strained with his own impending release. “I can feel your cunt tightening around me…fuck.”

His rhythm faltered, his thrusts growing erratic as he groaned my name.

Then he was coming too, his release washing over him like a tidal wave, his body stiffening above me before he collapsed heavily against my shaking frame.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The only sound in the room was our ragged breathing and the faint hum of city life outside. Nathan’s weight was crushing, but I didn’t have the energy to shove him off me. His hand was still around my throat, not squeezing now, but just resting there…like of course it should have been resting there.

After what felt like an eternity, he lifted himself off me and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. The silence stretched between us, heavy. It would have been awkward if it wasn’t fucking terrifying.

I felt myself sniffling as the tears started to flow again. It was too much, my body still convulsing with the aftershock of the wildest orgasm of my life as I tried to stop myself from sobbing.

His hand finally fell from my throat, his fingers lightly trailing over my skin before coming to rest on my hip. The possessive touch sent a shudder through me — a mix of repulsion and pleasure that left me feeling sick.

“Your cunt looks so pretty filled up like this,” he said. “Doesn’t it?”

He seemed like he was expecting an answer so I nodded, curling up into a ball and pulling the sheets closer around my bare body. His scent, a blend of sweat and cologne and sex, filled my senses, intensifying the reality of what had just happened. I closed my eyes, wishing more than anything to be anywhere but here.

I now understood why he was keeping me alive.

And if I didn’t get out of here…I knew things were going to get a lot fucking worse for me before he killed me.

Chapter Twenty: Nathan

Icouldn’t shake the image of Abby’s tear-streaked face, even as I lay there, pretending to be asleep. Every cry she had stifled echoed in my ears, each one a bullet to the chest.

The room was silent now, but it was a lie. It was like the quiet after a storm, deceptive and heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth.

I waited, listening to her breathing steady out, telling me she had finally succumbed to exhaustion.

I’d always considered myself many things—ruthless, cold, a necessary evil in this city that never slept. But this, what I’d done to Abby, this violence that left her curled up and broken beside me, was a new kind of hell. My hand twitched, itching for the comfort of soil against skin, for the delicate care of tending to my orchids, something pure and untouched by the filth of my world.

The darkness in the room wasn’t just from the night pressing against the windows; it was inside me, suffocating and dense. My father, the Serpent, he raised me to be a weapon, sharp and unforgiving. Yet not once had I ever raised my hand to a woman with intent to harm.

Until last night. Until Abby.

She provoked all kinds of feelings in me…feelings I’d never had for another woman. She was just a barista, no one important—but she brought out the best and the worst in me.

I should have killed her last night.

Now, I was in bed with her…my cum leaking from her gorgeous pussy.

She breathed softly, life in the stillness, her chest rising and falling with an innocence I’d torn away. In my mind, the principles I’d studied at Stanford clashed with the instincts honed by years at the Serpent’s side. Kant, Confucius, Socrates—they all spun a web of moral dilemmas I could no longer navigate. It was supposed to be simple: kill or be killed. But Abby... she complicated everything.

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