Page 14 of Delicious Prey

“You can’t fault me for getting hard, sweetheart. I’ve thought of nothing but you for two long years, and feeling your body pressed against mine, well, it’s enough to drive even the sanest man crazy, and no one’s ever accused me of being sane.”

The wet heat of his tongue flicks my earlobe, and the shiver that runs down my spine isn’t all from fear. As much as I fight my body’s reaction, there’s no denying what this man does to me. He murmurs something in Russian against my skin before running his tongue down my neck. I squirm against his grip when I hear the unmistakable sound of his zipper being pulled down.

“Easy, zaika,” he whispers against my skin. “I would never take something from you that you weren’t willing to give. I’m going to move my hand, and I want you to look at me.”

He slowly pulls his hand back, and I suck in a quick breath, but I don’t turn to look at him.

“Lydia,” he whispers. “Look at me.”

I turn my head and meet the face that’s haunted me for two years. He’s just as beautiful as I remember him in that courtroom, even more so if I’m being honest. There isn’t enough light to see the stormy grey color of his eyes, but I see the almond shape of them, the dark brows, the slope of his nose, his full lips, and a hint of the scar that runs down the left side of his face. The man is breathtaking, murderer or not.

“I need to ask you for something.”

“What?” I whisper, unable to look away.

He runs a finger over my forehead, gently brushing my hair back and trailing a line along my skin. Goosebumps cover my body as my nipples tighten and strain against my thin tank top and a throb starts between my legs.

“I need to hold you while I touch myself.”

“What?”

He ghosts his fingers along my neck. “You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you, how desperate I am to touch you, to take you and make you mine.”

My body tenses at his words.

“And that’s exactly why I need to do this. I won’t take what you don’t want to give. I’m asking, sweetheart, not taking.”

It’s hard to think with his fingertips grazing the crook of my neck and the intense way he’s looking at me, like he can’t quite believe I’m here in front of him.

“What exactly would you do?” I ask, my voice a shaky whisper between us.

The corner of his mouth lifts up the tiniest bit. “I just want to feel you against me while I jerk off.”

I look away, unable to meet his eyes after the bluntness of what he’s just said. His letters were sometimes explicit about what he wanted to do to me, but reading it is a lot different than hearing it in person.

“And right before I come, I want to lift your shirt and come on your skin.”

My thighs squeeze together at his words, causing him to let out a low moan because of course he notices my reaction. He brings his hand down, dragging his fingers along my shoulder and arm before resting it on my hip.

“Will you let me, zaika? Will you give me this?”

Against all my better judgement, I nod and whisper, “Yes.” I’m not sure why I agree to it, except that my pussy is throbbing, my panties are soaking wet, and despite what I know is right, I crave this man. I want to feel him against me. I want him to make himself come, and god help me, I want to feel the wet heat of his seed on my skin.

He rests his forehead against my head and squeezes my hip. “Did you ever touch yourself while you read my letters?”

I think about lying, but decide there’s no point in denying it. “Yes.”

His lips graze my ear, and when he gives my earlobe a soft suck, my whole body arches at that one small touch.

“My sweet little bunny,” he murmurs against my skin. “Slip a hand in your panties and come with me.”

“This is wrong,” I whisper even as my pussy clenches and throbs with a need that’s damn near impossible to ignore.

“Is it?” He moves his hand from my hip and a second later, he groans, and I know he’s touching himself. “Feels pretty fucking right to me.”

Knowing he’s stroking himself has me clutching at my blankets, desperate to touch myself and join him. The soft bite he gives my earlobe stirs me into action, and before I can talk myself out of it, I slide a hand down my pants.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Fuck yourself, baby. Let me hear how wet your pussy is.”

---