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“Ryker.”
At this he stepped fully into me, wrapping his arms around me before lifting me onto the desk and planting my ass where he wanted it once more. My natural instinct was to instantly open my legs and invite him to step right on in there. However, the stupid dumb skirt wouldn’t allow it, making me question, why did I buy a fucking pencil skirt… or what now seemed more like some cloth-made chastity belt?!
“Erm, my skirt, it’s erh…” I said embarrassingly as I tried swaying my legs in one direction and then the other with my knees together. He smirked down at my lap and current dilemma before he suddenly took matters into his own hands.
“Eyes on me, beautiful,” he said, and the second my gaze snapped to his, I heard the tearing of material and the freeing movement as my legs were forced wide open. I yelped in shock, which was soon overwhelmed by the man who had me in his grasp.
“Now this time when you say my name, I want to feel it being said over my lips.” Well, I didn’t know about his lips but as for mine, they dropped a little in shock.
“I can’t,” I told him, making him smirk and tease in a knowing tone,
“No?”
So, I told him, “I mean, we aren’t even dating.”
At this his lips rose to a full smile, and I swear it was near blinding he was that handsome.
“Then let’s change that, should we?” he whispered after first dipping his head down to my neck where his words became a promised caress.
“So, what… what would that make me? Your girlfriend or…” At this his smile and his answer was spoken over my lips.
Oh, and it wasn’t his name that was spoken like he wanted but instead,
My new title…
“My sweet little prisoner.”
2
THIS MURDEROUS SIDE OF CRAZY
After he declared me to be his prisoner, I should have been horrified and done something to prevent the kiss that felt more like it was sealing my fate. But no, unfortunately not. Because once again, I got completely lost in all that was him, like a trap I had willingly stepped into. Because the truth of it all was, that despite knowing what was good for me, in this… I was powerless. And all because of one word…
Addicted.
I was addicted to him. To all the dreams, to the few fleeting memories of reality I had. To those blissful moments we touched. I had played it all out in my mind like some persistent loop, even finding myself going to bed early just so I would have another dream. Dreams that felt so physical, I could half convince myself that they had really happened.
They had felt real.
Too real in fact.
And it was with this thought that I froze in his hold, and he instantly felt it, now pulling back after ending the kiss abruptly.
“Evie?” he questioned.
“My dreams…” The second I said this, I watched his features harden with realization, which in return, told me everything I needed to know. The truth. The facts. The reality.
They weren’t dreams at all.
“Let me explain,” he said quickly as he saw that same realization take shape on my face.
“Get off me!” I shouted when he tried to take me in his arms again, making him take pause. However, when he didn’t take an even bigger hint and step away, I gritted my teeth before demanding,
“Back away.” The seriousness in my tone must have had its desired effect as he sighed before stepping away, now lifting his hands up as if I was holding a weapon pointed his way. Which was when I shimmed off the desk, now holding my torn skirt together and twisting it so as the spilt was to my leg and not showing my, admittedly, wet panties.
“I want to leave,” I demanded, trying to keep my voice as steady as I could get it. Especially when every damn dream I ever had of him replayed in my mind, and let’s just say that the embarrassment was building.
“In that case, I think you need a firmer definition of what the word prisoner means,” he told me, now folding his arms across his chest, and damn him for looking hot while doing it!
