Page 107 of Rok's Captive
Rok’s eyes are heavy-lidded, as if he’s in a dream. But he focuses on me. I don’t think he understands what I asked.
I close my eyes, focusing, and bring images to my mind. Images of him, alone. The absence of women in his memories. The way he’s looked at me, touched me, like I’m something new and entirely unknown.
He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine, and I see it—another fleeting glimpse into his world. His clan, all males. Their harsh, barren home. The constant battles for survival, the brutal hunts, the unrelenting heat of the desert.
There are no women. No softness. No love.
“Jus-teen,” he rasps, his breath warm on my face. “First. You…only.”
His words steal the breath from my lungs.
First. Only.
The gravity of it sinks in. I’m the first woman he’s ever touched, ever been close to.
For a moment, I don’t know how to respond. But then a possessiveness I’ve never felt before suddenly flares to life inside my chest. I want to claim him, to teach him, to show him everything.Iwant to.
I release him, my hands trembling as they reach up to cup his face. He leans into my touch, his eyes never leaving mine, and I see the wonder there—the awe, the hunger, the need.
“I need to show you something,” I say softly, pushing the thought toward him. His brow furrows in concentration as he tries to understand, but I can feel his eagerness, his excitement.
Taking his hand, I guide it to my chest, pressing his palm against my breast. “This,” I murmur, “is a woman’s body. My body.” I guide his fingers down, tracing the curve of my waist, the flare of my hip. His eyes darken, his breath growing ragged as he watches his hand moving over me.
“And this,” I whisper, trailing his hand even lower, until his fingers brush against the fabric of my panties. I guide his fingers beneath the hem, pressing them against my wetness. “This is my pussy.”
A strangled growl escapes his throat, his fingers flexing involuntarily as he feels the heat of me. His eyes lock with mine, a question burning in them. I nod, giving him silent permission to explore.
His fingers delve deeper, parting my folds with a tentative touch that sends shivers down my spine. He’s clumsy at first, his movements uncertain, but the raw hunger in his eyes is unmistakable. He wants this. Wants me.
I guide his thumb to my clit, showing him the sensitive bundle of nerves that sends sparks through my body when touched. His eyes seem to glow as he feels the reaction, a low vibration in his chest as he starts rubbing in slow circles.
“Wah-ter,” he groans, his forehead pressed against mine. The images in his mind are a whirlwind—flashes of my body, my face, the feelings coursing through him. It’s overwhelming. Intense.
He lifts me again, bracing me against the stone as I reach for him, wrapping my hand around his length, stroking him in time with the movements of his fingers. He growls, his hips bucking into my touch, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“I want you inside me,” I whisper, guiding the head of his cock to my entrance. His eyes flick up to mine, a mix of fear and anticipation swirling in their golden depths.
His forehead presses to mine, and I shove the images at him—his hips snapping into me, my nails raking his back, the obscene stretch of him filling me completely.
The second he understands, hemoves.
No gentle easing in. One hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back as he drives into me with a single brutal thrust. The stretch burns—fuck, he’shuge—and I scream, my spine arching off the stone. Claws dig into my thighs hard enough to draw blood, but I don’t give a shit because yes,yes, finally?—
Rok freezes. His whole body locks up like he’s been speared, muscles trembling.
“Jus-teen.” His voice is shredded, rough like he’s been screaming. His pupils are blown black, but he’s holding himself still, even though I can feel him twitching inside me. “Hurts?”
I choke out a laugh. “Yes.No. Don’t stop.”
When I clench around him, his snarl shakes the cave walls.
His jaw clenches, his muscles taut as he holds himself still, every inch of him trembling beneath my touch. He’s fighting himself, barely holding back, and the sight of him—this massive, powerful warrior brought to the edge by me—is enough to make my core clench around him.
He groans, his head falling forward to rest against my shoulder, his breath hot against my neck. His teeth graze the tender skin there, and my eyes roll over as I groan.
My nails drag down his back as I shift slightly, adjusting to his size. The movement sends a jolt of pleasure through me, and I gasp, my hips instinctively rocking against him.
“Move,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Rok, please. I need you to move.”
