Page 69 of The Prey

“I don’t know,” I tell him, but whine when he tries to pull his fingers out.

“Mmm, you’re going to make a beast out of me,” he snarls and assaults me with his tongue, worshipping my clit, while he fucks my pussy slowly. I’m high on pleasure, and I don’t want it to stop.

I’m not sure how he does it, but he pulls another orgasm out of me, ripping it from my bones and making me scream his name.

I shudder against him, the aftershocks rippling through my body, making it difficult to breathe or exist. He lets me ride his hand through it, easing away only after my knees have stopped shaking and I’ve gained my footing.

Pushing to his feet, he towers over me, his six-foot frame drawing my five-foot-two one to my feet. I watch as he brings his hand to my mouth. I can see my juices coating his fingers, dripping down his wrist. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, how fucking perfect your face looks when you come. I can’t wait to see it as I slide deep into your cunt. Owning you, forcing you to take every fucking inch.”

I don’t know what to say or how to react. I’m still reeling from the orgasms, and now he’s showering me with praise and filthy fucking words.

Bringing the digits to my lips, he smiles. “Lick them clean, Prey. Taste yourself.”

It's nothing less than an order, and I obey before I even consider it. Closing my lips around the digits, the slick, salty taste of my own release fills my mouth. It’s not a bad taste. In fact, it turns me on to taste myself on his fingers. I flick my tongue against the digits, sucking intently until I’ve removed every drop of my release while staring into his eyes.

When he finally pulls away, his fingers leaving my mouth with a resounding pop, the reality of what we’ve done crashes down on me. I look away, hesitant and vulnerable now that he’s peeled back my layers.

What happens now?

I want to ask that question so badly it makes me ache, but I don’t want to ruin the moment. Sebastian reaches down and snags his knife off the ground while adjusting his bulging erection.

I sway on my feet, a wave of dizziness sweeping through me as he jerks my hoodie sleeve down, the back falling to pool around my hips and baring my arm to him. I look up at him, hesitant at what I might see in his eyes.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle a look of regret or anger. I already told him I don’t want to be another girl to him. What I find is neither of those emotions; instead, he’s looking at me with satisfaction and need.

My heart clenches in my chest with all these unfamiliar emotions. When he reaches for my hand, I give it to him without hesitation. I think nothing of it when he shifts the knife into my grasp, forcing me to take hold of it. His own hand blankets mine, wrapping around my grip tightly. Then his eyes are back on me. His own gaze is warm, tender.

He lifts the blade to my arm, and I hesitate, shrinking back.

“Sebastian, what are you doing?” I blink rapidly, trying not to sound as afraid as I feel.

“Making certain you understand you’re more than they ever were to me.” He moves the blade, aiming it right below the other mark. “Do it, Ely. Make the mark and claim your spot beside me.”

I’ve still not caught my breath, and I blink a couple of times, trying to calm myself. He waits patiently, and once I feel I have a better grip, I carefully tip the sharp edge against my skin. My eyes dart from that one spot on my arm and back up to him.

A hiss of discomfort escapes me as a burning sensation zips across my flesh when he adds the correct pressure, guiding the blade through my skin and making a mark right below the second.

I’m mesmerized by the crimson blood that trails in a small stream down my bicep and over my elbow. The red against my alabaster skin is nothing short of an intoxicating image, one I’ll never be able to unsee.

I drag my gaze away from my arm, nevertheless, afraid of the slight tingle of pleasure it gives me in my belly.

Looking from his mark and back up to my face, he reaches for me, wrapping a hand around my throat, using his grasp to bring me closer. His lips ghost against mine when he speaks. “Mine. You’re mine in every sense of the word. The only one to bear my mark twice on your skin, and the only one I want.”

It’s not the words that terrify me at that moment, but their meaning. From this moment on, everything between us will be different. I can feel it in every beat of my heart.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I whisper hoarsely and sway on my feet when he releases me.

He smiles and then kneels to put the knife away. I look down, watching as he does, and that’s when my entire world tilts on its axis, because there on the ground, nestled very visibly in the leaves, is Tanya’s pregnancy test.

He goes still as his gaze fastens on it.

I’m consumed by dread. No! No! He has to understand. I can make him understand. I can explain. My stomach tightens to the point of pain, and I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I need to say something. I have to. But I can’t. All I can do is watch in horror as his fingers curl around the test. He picks it up, bringing it closer to his face as if he’s inspecting it. No! It’s not what you think it is.

Pushing off the ground, he stands at his full height, towering above me, and I can feel the betrayal, see it etched into his face.

Fuck. Think, Elyse.

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