Page 90 of Bite
“Keep running, little mortal,” he growls, voice right in my ear. “You’re not ready for me to catch you yet.”
I whip around, but he’s already gone, vanished into the dark. Panic races through me, raw and blinding. I crash through the underbrush, tearing my dress, skin scraping on stray twigs and sharp branches. I don’t care. I just run.
He lets me get further this time, all the way to the fence at the edge of the property. I hit the metal hard, fingers clawing for purchase, but it’s ten feet high and there’s no crossbars to climb.
I double back, ducking low and weaving through the trees. My breath fogs in front of me, skin numb and burning.
I still don’t hear any sign of his pursuit, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t hunting me. It’s equal parts terrifying and exhilarating, my heart thundering against my ribs, ragged breaths sawing from my lungs.
When he catches me, it’s so sudden I don’t even have time to scream. His arm bands around my waist, yanking me clean off my feet and taking me down to the ground. We land hard, his body cushioning most of the impact before he flips me underneath him, my chest pressed to the ground and his weight draped over my back.
He leans in, mouth rasping at my ear. “Are you still scared, darling?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My throat is tight with terror, lungs aching for air, whole body trembling. He just holds me there, patiently waiting until the silence becomes unbearable.
“Yes,” I pant hoarsely. “I’m scared.”
He hums to himself as if that’s the answer he wanted. Then he shifts, rolling me onto my back, pinning my wrists above my head with a single hand. His suit is torn in a few places, the shirt beneath soaked through with blood. He looks like a beautiful nightmare, and I can’t look away.
He brings his free hand to my face, thumb brushing a streak of dried blood from my cheek. “You’re also alive,” he murmurs. “More than you’ve ever been. You’re a slut for danger, aren’t you?”
I buck my hips, squirming in an attempt to get free, but somehow my struggle rapidly devolves into a shameless grind that has me panting with a different kind of need. James rucks up my ruined dress, the fabric tearing as he bares my legs to the night. I don’t put up nearly enough resistance when he spreads my legs and shifts my panties aside, exposing me to the frigid air.
“James!” I gasp as he lowers his head between my thighs. The heat of his mouth meets my center, tongue flicking over my clit with brutal precision. The shock of it makes me jolt, but he just pins me by the hips, devouring my pussy relentlessly.
I cry out, fingers sinking into his hair. Not to pull him away, but to tug him even closer. My back arches, body on fire even as my brain still shrieks for escape.
He tongue-fucks me until I’m trembling with need, tears streaking down my temples. He takes me right to the edge– so close it hurts– then suddenly stops, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes.
“You’re not coming tonight unless you’re wrapped around my cock,” he declares, rising to his knees and lowering his zipper.
“Wha–?” I whimper helplessly, pushing up to my elbows.
“Beg for it,” James commands, voice flat and merciless.
Liquid fire sears through my veins. I pin my lower lip between my teeth, locking eyes with him and shaking my head defiantly.
He slaps my thigh, the sting sharp in the cold. “Beg, Taylor. Show me how much you want this. How much you crave being fucked by a monster.”
The pieces finally slot together in my brain with startling clarity. This was never about escaping him, but about proving how much I don’t want to. Because despite the fear, the doubt, and the conflicting sway of my moral compass lately, a single truth remains: the man and the monster are one and the same.
I’ve fallen for the man, and I’m about to be devoured by the monster.
“Please,” I whisper, the word slipping past my lips before I can even fully consider what it means to surrender. Need overrides shame, my gaze dropping as he shoves his pants down and frees his cock, rock hard and leaking at the tip. I reach out todrag my fingernails across the ladder of his abs, tongue darting out to wet my lips as my eyes flicker back up to meet his. “Please, James.”
His lips curve in the ghost of a smile, something wild sparking in his eyes. He moves faster than I can register– gripping my thighs, lining up, and thrusting inside with no warning. I scream as he bottoms out in a single, brutal stroke, his hand covering my mouth to muffle the sound. I’m so wet it’s obscene, inner walls pulsing around him as he starts pounding into me, each thrust driving me deeper into the frozen ground. His hand moves to my throat, squeezing just enough to remind me who’s in control.
I don’t feel the cold air, or the snow beneath me, or the roughness of the ground. All I feel ishim– owning me, claiming me, branding me on the inside. The way he ruts into me is relentless; every savage, animalistic thrust designed to ruin me in a way I’ve come to crave.
When I’m just about to come, he suddenly stops again, buried deep inside me.
“Say it,” he growls, piercing blue eyes fixed on mine.
From the way he’s looking at me, I know exactly what he wants. And it’s never been truer than it is right now.
“I’m yours,” I choke out.
He growls in satisfaction as he dips his head, fangs gracing my neck. “Good girl.”
