Page 203 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

It’s hopeless.

We are alone in the darkness, sprawled across the hard floorboards, his weight holding me down without quite hurting me.

“Do you know what I think?” He presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to my neck. I freeze as the sharp points of his fangs graze my skin. “I think you want this as much as I do.”

I shake my head vehemently, glaring at the floorboards.

“No?”

He slides through my wetness again, and I shudder, pleasure sparking white behind my eyes.

“You’re soaked,” he breathes.

“A-am I?”

“Mm-hmm.” His tongue runs hot and damp along the length of my neck as his hips give one slow roll, coating himself in my arousal. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel it.”

He does it again—that slow, forbidden drag of his cock against my slit—and my swollen flesh throbs, my entire body weakening.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

“I don’t,” I insist.

“No?”

My gaze darts around the attic helplessly. For the first time, I realise the candles are burning again, the violet glow dancing across the floorboards.

When did that happen?

“You’ve stopped fighting,” Nathaniel observes.

“No, I haven’t,” I whisper. Except I have. I’ve gone completely still beneath him, every part of me burning for his touch, my core aching as it waits for the next tantalising stroke.

“Yes,” he murmurs, sliding his thick length slowly along my folds again, delving without penetrating. “You have.”

My arms and knees tremble, threatening to slide, and then they do. I go down, and Nathaniel lowers with me until my bare breasts and belly press against the cool floorboards and his body covers mine.

I lie there breathing hard, shivering with anticipation beneath him, waiting—hating that I’m waiting—for him to move again.

“Do you want more?” he drawls.

I shake my head hard. This isn’t happening. It isn’t—

He moves again, and a violent shiver travels through me as he rubs himself against my swollen, aching clit.

I bite back a sound, my fingers curling against the floorboards. It feels so good. Like the things I’ve tried not to imagine at night when my thoughts stray to him—except I never imagined the tingling beneath my skin, every nerve seeming to wake at once as hot and cold shivers race through me.

“Tell me you would rather have him. Mark, was it? And the others. All twelve of them.”

I think of Mark beneath my skirt, breathing in my scent, boasting that I would have been his thirty-ninth. The memory turns my stomach.

I don’t want to think about Mark.

Nathaniel’s hand shifts from my nape to my jaw, tilting my face just enough for him to see my expression.

“Tell me you don’t want this.”

I turn my face away, his cheek brushing mine, his cock pressing against my entrance. Suddenly, my body opens around the broad tip before he jerks back with a strangled sound pulling the tip back out of me.