Page 76 of Dark Prince's Captive

When he lets my wrists go, I thread my fingers through the thick strands of his soft hair.I cling to him even as I push him away, my mind and body battling even though there’s no question about the outcome of that fight.

I kiss him back as he explores my mouth.I tangle my tongue with his and hungrily learn the shape of his lips in turn.The moans echoing in the space can’t be coming from my mouth.Yet every time that sound fills the room, Aruan groans, tying me a little tighter to him with his intoxicating kiss and the delicious way he rotates his hips.He frames my face between his palms, holding me in place and keeping my mouth accessible for his plundering.

Shifting slightly, he tilts his hips, hitting a soft spot between my legs that makes my toes curl with pleasure.

Ah.

I rub myself against him and wrap my legs around his ass to get even closer.

“Elsie,” he says, tearing his mouth from mine.

We look at each other, our chests rising and falling rapidly.The way he said my name was another warning.He’s telling me we’re getting to the point of no return.

The implication of being tied to a mate hits me like a sack of potatoes on the head.There’s no escaping this destiny.That’s what he meant when he said I couldn’t fight it.My body has already made the decision for me.Despite its newfound health and vitality, I can’t help but hate it for betraying me as I give in to the mindlessness, almost angrily chasing after the release my body needs by moving harder against the thick cock that’s nestled between my legs.

“Slow down,” Aruan says in a choked voice.“You don’t want me to take you right here on the floor.”

My reply is born from spitefulness and vexation.“Just do it already.”

One thick, black brow raises in a perfectly arched, mocking curve.“Like this?”

“Does it matter where or how we do it?”I move my hand between our bodies to lock my fingers around the thick length tenting his pants.A part of me doesn’t want to enjoy it.Maybe if I don’t, I won’t want to do this again.I won’t have to fight battle after battle only to lose each one.“Just get it over with.”

He hisses.“Carry on touching me like that, and we’ll both regret the consequences.I’ll fuck you like a beast on the stones instead of in my bed like my mate deserves.”

“I’m not your mate,” I taunt.“Not yet.”

He catches my hand, squeezing it around his cock to still my movements.“You’re playing dangerous games.”

Throwing back his own words at him, I ask, “Lost your nerve?”

“If this is what you want,” he replies with finality that, despite my bravado, scares me.

He lets me go and lifts off of me.I watch his frame grow taller until he towers over me.Perversely, I feel colder without his touch.Emptier.

He holds my gaze as he strips, drinking me in like a man who adores the sight in front of him so much that he can’t help but hate it.Yes, indeed, he’s hating himself for needing me, hating that his determination to “claim” me is taking away his control.I feel it in that place in my chest where his thoughts and sentiments echo.

I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that he can never lie to me.He can’t tell me sweet nothings or that he cares.He can’t tell me that this is even just a little about me.No, this is all about him, about the matehewants.For selfish reasons.

“Maybe it’s better like this,” he says as he sheds his final piece of clothing.“We won’t be wild with lust on the potion and therefore blind to pain or injuries.There’s less chance of me hurting you if I remain in control.”

The words “pain” and “injuries” drift into one ear and out the other, not hooking into my brain like they should.I’m too busy studying the perfect male specimen standing over me.He’s built like a fighting machine with unrelenting muscles and powerful arms and legs.His cock juts out, thick and long, the smooth crest already glistening with a drop of pre-cum.

I swallow, realizing that my mouth has gone dry.Because he’s beautiful.And because, once again, I realize how big he is.Reallybig.

If I hadn’t been so sick all my life, I might’ve experimented more, perhaps tried a vibrator or two, but I could never scrape together enough energy—or arousal—to make an effort.

I regret that terribly now, not knowing what’s in store for me.

With a wicked grin, he widens his stance slightly, letting me watch even as he offers me a hand.I look at his proffered hand, so huge and manly with that dusting of dark hair.

It’s a clever move.Taking it will mean I give him my consent.He’s making sure thatI’mmaking the choice, that I won’t be able to accuse him later of forcing me.

And if I don’t take his hand, he may call me a coward again.

He wouldn’t be wrong.That’s what I feel like.A coward.And I’ve been many things throughout my life, but never a coward.

Slowly, I reach out and place my hand in his, even as the same duality I sense in him—wanting something so badly it aches, and hating it for that reason—wars inside me.

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