I don’t know what comes over me. A lapse of sanity. The Shadow King infecting my mind with whatever sickness he has.
I grind myself against him, savoring his hard muscles clenching underneath me. Roll my hips once. Twice. Slow figure eights over his length.
I want to unravel him and obliterate the detached control he wears like a second skin.
Heat curls in my core, gathering at my clit. My lips part, and I moan.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “Look at me.”
“Make. Me.” My response is breathy.
“Gladly.” He drags me closer and buries his face at the base of my throat. His nose grazes the tender flesh where my pulse throbs a rickety rhythm. I hear his desperate breaths, like he’s famished for my scent. Like I’m his salvation.
A tortured groan wrenches from him—desperate and aching. He bands his arms around me and moves me up and down, up and down, a sinewy rhythm over the thick cock in his pants.
Logic burns away, my body incinerated by madness. With his blood on my tongue, his cologne in my nostrils, I’m overwhelmed with everything that’s Elias Kent.
Flames singe between my legs and burgeon into an inferno as he grows harder against me, his warm tip dampening, digging into my core, seeking entrance. My mind spins and muscles tighten, a guitar string wound over and over again until it’s taut to the point of breaking.
I writhe over him, our movements natural, like we were made to do this.
Made to drive each other mad.
“Myzemër,” he grunts into my neck, his hand traveling down to my ass before he cups it and squeezes.
Zemër? What’s that?The thought vanishes like smoke on a rainy day when he presses his lips to the hollow of my throat. I whimper.
“Ihateyou,” he says. Another loud, masculine groan of approval. “You drive me insane. And I’ve fucked my hand raw to the thought of you on my lap.”
“Elias,” I moan and chase the sensations—the climbing sparks around my clit.
“Let go, Lana. Feel what I do to you.”
My back arches, my pussy wet, accepting his hard thrusts like it’s my only purpose—
This elusive pinnacle, this explosion, I can see it, feel it—
He wrenches me off his lap.
What? Why did he stop?
Cold air knives down my spine. My legs tremble, and feet find purchase. I want to claw him back to me and feel his body against mine. I want to kiss him and punch him and finish what we started.
The room swirls as I heave out heavy breaths. Elias glares at me, his feral dark eyes burning like hot coals.
Then there’s the blood.
The crimson liquid drips out of my bite mark and streaks over his white dress shirt in crescents.
Who am I?
“Get out,” he growls and hurls a folder at me I barely catch in time. “Press releases. A magazine interview. A deal between your family and the Berishas. Due tomorrow.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. My taste buds are singing, nerves ringing. Temporarily losing my voice, I glance away, my gaze catching on a document on his desk.
Saints Hollow Conservancy—Hollow Gardens Acquisition Permit.
Dates circled in red. Photos of the park tucked above.
