Page 31 of The Prey

I swallow nervously and try again, sucking the head of his cock between my lips and cleaning up the errant drops. Once he's satisfied, he tucks himself back into his pants. My thighs are wet, my jaw aches, and my throat is raw, but I’m hopeful that’s enough proof for Yanov.

It better be.

After a moment, Sebastian extends his hand to me and helps me to my feet. I move to stand beside the chair but make it all of one step before he’s tugging me down onto his lap. I perch on his thigh and lift my head slowly, just enough to see if anyone is staring at me.

The big man laughs heartily from the couch opposite us.

“You are your mother's son, after all.” My quick peek shows him looking at me with a heavy-lidded gaze. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip and then disappears again, the gesture making me shrink back against Sebastian reflexively. “I believe Yanov got the message; he left in a huff. Me, though…”

Something about his statement makes Sebastian tense, but I can’t bring myself to ask him if he’s okay. Not when I realize that Yanov is gone. I’m almost disappointed that I don’t get to see his face after what I just did.

Sebastian’s hold on me tightens, and I won’t lie— I like the possessive way he forces me to remain seated on his lap like I’m a trophy to display.

“I’m no longer interested. We’re leaving. There will be no negotiations today,” Sebastian announces abruptly, and for some reason, that terrifies me—probably because I know nothing will ever be the same between us after tonight.

14

Sebastian

My entire plan is a wash. I had Elyse dangling like forbidden fruit right in front of Sidorov, and I couldn’t bring myself to offer her up to him. Fuck.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Why bother asking myself that question? I already know the answer.

Elyse. She’s the fucking problem. The whole problem.

I fight with myself for the next twenty-four hours, trying my best to stay in control, balancing on the edge between right and wrong. The alcohol helps to dissolve some of the desire. It keeps me tipsy enough to numb most of my feelings, but it never brings me to the point that I’m sloppy. Even if it’s tempting.

I let my eyes fall closed for half a second, and I’m reminded all over again why I haven’t slept a wink. It doesn’t help that we’re stuck in this tin can together at thirty thousand feet, her clean scent surrounding me, her sunshine personality making me want to slit my throat. Escape is impossible at this point, but that doesn’t mean I need to continue torturing myself.

And still, my brain refuses to think of anything else. I can still see the way she looked up at me with so much trust in her eyes. I remind myself that she only felt that way because I was the lesser of the two evils in the scenario; still, it doesn’t change the fact that she had my cock in her mouth.

I spear my fingers through my hair in frustration. The memory of her warm mouth on my skin and her little nails digging into my thighs will be my undoing. Dammit. I need another drink. I can feel her eyes on me, even if she thinks I can’t since she looks away as soon as I look at her. I’m not dumb. I know she has things she wants to say and maybe even questions she wants to ask, but I don’t have the mental fortitude to deal with all of that right now, nor do I ever want to deal with it.

I’m barely keeping myself in check as it is. God forbid we talk about what happened. It might spark me to do something irrational, like take her back into the bedroom, bend her over, and fuck her until she screams my name. Thinking about sinking inside her wet heat is the only other thing I can seem to think about after the blow job. My brain keeps reminding me that I could have all of her, every single inch. I could let Sidorov have her too, but I’m too much of a pussy to do it.

Jesus fucking Christ. I should just jump out of this plane right now. Fucking pussy.

“We haven’t talked about what happened, and I don’t really want to return home with this strange awkwardness.” She gestures to the open space between us.

“There’s nothing awkward, at least not on my end.” I shrug, dismissing her feelings entirely. I don’t even bother looking at her as I speak. I don’t want to encourage this conversation to continue. I just want the plane to land so I can put more than five feet of space between us.

“Okay, sure.” She huffs out a breath. “Well, there is for me.”

“And what is it that you want me to do about it? Apologize?” I snap.

I know I’m being an asshole, but it’s either be this way or put her on her back and fill her with my cock until my balls touch her ass. I think being an asshole is a better choice.

“No, but I didn’t expect you to give me the silent treatment either. You’re acting even stranger than normal, which says a lot.” I notice the way she anxiously wrings her hands together in my peripheral vision. I’m honestly shocked she held back this long. I was positive she would word-vomit all over me last night but she shocked the hell out of me when she didn’t make a peep. Most likely internalizing everything that happened.

That doesn’t matter—hell, her feelings don’t really matter, not when it comes to keeping myself in check. In the long run, she should consider this a favor. Stopping myself from claiming her offers her a chance at freedom—if she ever pays off her father’s debt, that is.

I cling to the frustration hovering just beneath the surface, because the alternative is not something we’re thinking about right now. “Jesus Christ, Ely, it was a blow job. I didn’t take your virginity. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Don’t make it something that it isn’t.”

She drops her gaze, and I pin her with a glare.

“What?”

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