Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
My heart hammered against my chest bone as I stared at him, my breaths panting out of me. I yanked at my wrists, trying to dislodge the belt, but my efforts were futile. Rurik had me captive.
“Breathe,” he growled. His hand slid from my neck to my hair, and he gripped the strands, tugging until my scalp smarted. But my brain silenced, and I sagged against the mattress, my skin already growing clammy. He loosened his hold and scraped his blunt nails along my scalp as I closed my eyes, sucking in deep breaths. “That’s it. No matter what happens here, Malik, you’re safe with me. I need you to remember that and hold on to that.”
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
My eyes snapped open as his hand disappeared. He was standing by the bed now. His shirt was missing, and the snap of his slacks was undone, but his zipper was still up. Still, there was no mistaking the thick bulge pressing against his zipper.
“What?” I gasped. “Why?” He just continued staring at me. Rurik?”
“I’m not going to be gentle with you, Shadow,” he warned me. A shiver of trepidation raced down my spine. “But you’re always safe.” He slowly eased down the zipper of his pants, and I swallowed thickly, the sound audible to my own ears. “Safeword, Malik?”
My chest was too fucking tight. And there was a pit in my stomach growing and growing and threatening to swallow me fucking whole. I was filled with trepidation and unease.
Still, I managed to croak the first word that came to mind.
“Prison,” I whispered.
15
Rurik
Prison…
I swiped my tongue over my front teeth as I regarded Malik. His eyes were shut again, but he was trembling just the slightest bit. I’d been burning with rage since the moment he blew up that SUV. Had barely been able to keep my mask—a mask Anatoly had made sure I perfected so I could blend into society despite my psychopathy—in place long enough to get him back to the hotel.
I’d seen that fight in him. Had seen that anger burning beneath his skin. Sure, he was mad at me. Oh, he was furious. But when we’d stepped into that elevator and he’d lost control, the root cause of his rage bubbled to the surface.
The moment I’d seen all that anxiousness bleed into his dark eyes, I knew I was fucking right last night.
Malik had undiagnosed acute anxiety. And that panic attack he’d just had only solidified that. His eyes had been wild with panic. His breaths had been coming too fast. The moment I’d snapped that belt tight around his wrists, his control had snapped. His mind had fractured.
In the face of my unhinged mind, he’d submitted. Fucking beautifully, at that.
But his safeword wasn’t lost on me. His voice might’ve trembled when he said that single word—prison—but I knew exactly why he’d chosen that word. It was his last-ditch effort to taunt me.
Prison—where he thought I’d trapped him under my thumb.
Prison—where I’d made him mine.
Prison—a metaphorical place he felt trapped in now.
Prison—that metaphorical place where I’d watch him fucking rise from the shackles of his mind.
With my eyes locked on his, I grabbed the bottle of lube I’d set on the end of the bed before I’d restrained Malik and clicked the lid open. Malik flinched, but he didn’t open his eyes. Like he thought if he couldn’t see me moving, couldn’t see what I was doing, he could pretend that this wasn’t happening.
I smirked. I’d let him pretend for a little while longer. But he’d realize soon enough pretending wasn’t happening while he was beneath me. While my cock was splitting him open and breeding him. While I was fucking owning him.
After slicking my cock up, I tossed the lube aside and moved onto the bed, not bothering to remove my pants. When my slacks brushed his legs, Malik tensed, his brows pinching as he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. A shudder rolled through his big frame, and I grinned.
He was naked, restrained, and at my fucking mercy, whereas I hadn’t even bothered to remove my fucking pants. I knew it had to be bothering him, and I fucking relished in it. It was demoralizing, and he hated it.
I nudged his thighs apart just enough to fit myself between them, and then, I gripped his ass cheeks, pulling them apart to reveal his pretty, puckered hole. It fluttered as he clenched. I made a tsking sound.
“If you fight me on this, it’ll just hurt,” I warned him.
“Fuck… you,” he growled.
My grin was fucking feral. “Oh, I am, baby,” I promised. Then, I spit on his hole, watching my saliva trail down from his puckered hole to drip onto his balls. A low whimper crawled past his throat before he could stop it, and precum dripped from my tip.