Page 45 of Alien Prince Fake Fiancé

Lifting her with an arm around her waist, he carried her to the bedroom and tossed her onto the bed. No gentle placement, no treating her like fragile glass. She bounced on the mattress, just a little.

“Don’t move.”

The chill of the room brushed against her damp skin, causing goosebumps to rise and her senses to sharpen as she bolted off the bed.

Zade looked at her through narrowed eyes. Every cell in his body was on fire for her. Did she understand what shewas doing? Testing him. Challenging his authority. Deliberately baiting the beast within. “I told you not to move.”

“I don’t take orders from you.”

Zade moved like a cougar, a silent hunter stalking toward her. Giving her no warning, he grabbed the plush towel and ripped it off, then grabbed a fistful of her hair and angled her head back with relentless but gentle pressure.

“What are you doing?” she panted. His intense focus set her pulse racing in dangerous places.

“You know what I’m doing. Say it,shenga.Forever. Say you’re mine forever.”

"No, I won’t—" Her words broke off into a moan as his finger found her center. “Ah!”

"Your body knows what it needs, even if your mind rebels," he murmured. “Admit you are mine.”

Every step she took back, he followed, until her back was against the wall, her arms caught between her body and the hard, unforgiving, alien metal.

He nipped at her shoulder and moved his hand from her throbbing core to her throat, making her hyper aware of the vulnerable position she was in. She could smell her own arousal on his fingers. Men usually treated her like fragile glass, always careful with her, even when she didn’t want, didn’t need ‘careful’ or ‘gentle’. Somehow, Zade seemed to know what she needed, what she wanted. She’d told other men before, asked them to be more dominant in bed. All that had earned her in the past was confused looks and awkward sex far worse than if she’d said nothing at all. Not Zade. It was as if she’d unleashed a secret part of him he’d been hiding.

The idea made her wet core throb and ache to be filled. Fucked. Taken.

Nostrils flaring, he inhaled the intoxicating scent of her desire. Oh, she liked what he was doing. Liked it a lot. Thatwas good, because she’d done an excellent job of riling the beast inside him and he wasn’t sure anything but complete submission was going to satisfy him now. He was on a mission to destroy every one of her stubborn, misguided objections.

The thought of Antonelius touching her made him insane with jealousy, made him want to kill the other warrior and fuck Ashlyn until she admitted how wrong she was. Until she admitted she’d never wanted Antonelius; didn't want him now or when she chose him. Zade wanted to fuck her until she admitted they belonged together.

Too impatient to go slowly, he shoved his foot between hers and forced one leg to give way, opening her stance. When she didn’t protest, he forced her legs wider, knowing the position would make her feel exponentially more vulnerable.

She shifted, pulled her arms from behind her and adjusted her balance, her hands wrapping around his wrist where he still had a hand at her throat. She could have pulled his hand away if she really wanted to, but the thrill skittering down her spine kept her from trying. She liked the hint of danger. Liked his roughness.

Fear, mixed with anticipation, heightened her arousal. What was he going to do to her? He was right. She’d deliberately provoked him. Her mind filled with erotic images of what was to come. Her body quivered in anticipation.

Without a word, a force as unstoppable as time itself, Zade unknowingly fed her darkest fantasies, the vulnerability of her position amplifying her desire.

With one final tug on her hair, he released his grip and stroked his way down her body. She was open to him, and he didn’t hesitate in taking advantage. His fingers prepared her with deliberate and knowing strokes, teasing her until she was nothing but a quivering mass of longing. The remnants of alien drugs in her system had her riding the edge of orgasm at once.

"Please," she found herself pleading, though for cessation or fulfillment, she couldn't be certain. With trembling hands she reached for his belt, quickly unfastening the buckle and the front of his pants.

His cock sprang free, hard and ready, dripping with precum. With one long punishing stroke, he filled her. His possession was absolute, each inch claiming his territory in a way that left no room for doubt: she belonged to him.

The invasion overwhelmed her senses, her inner walls pulsating in concert with Zade's fierce possession. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. She was full, too full, but he kept coming. He was huge and made her take every hard inch with no time to adjust, to move, to accommodate the friction of hard steel driving through her tight channel. She had no defense.

Zade growled his pleasure, his hand gripping her with an iron hold, anchoring her to the reality of his claim. "Yield to me, Ashlyn," he ordered between thrusts, his command weaving her submission into the very fabric of their union.

Each movement he made within her was a stroke of domination, a rhythm set by the pulse of primordial instinct. His pace relentless, he drove into her, the sound of their bodies colliding, a drumbeat to the dance of creation.

Her world narrowed to the point of singularity—to the overwhelming fullness, the stretch and burn, the rapture in surrender.

He pulled away just long enough to growl, “The words,shenga. I’ll give you what you want, but I have to hear the words first. Tell me what you need. What you want. Tell me everything.”

"Zade..." she moaned, his name an invocation, a surrender, a claiming of her own amidst the tempest of sensation that threatened to tear her apart and remake her anew. The universenarrowed to the cadence of his possession; each punishing thrust an affirmation of his unyielding desire.

"Tell me what you need, and you shall have it." Zade promised, his voice a low rumble that resonated within her very core.

"Harder," Ashlyn gasped. “Please.” The word torn from her lips was both a plea and a demand.

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