Page 127 of Prey

“So responsive,” he murmurs between licks and bites. “Pregnancy makes you even more sensitive. I love watching you fall apart for me.”

My hands fumble with his tactical vest, desperate to feel skin against skin. He helps me, shedding weapons and gear with efficient movements. When his shirt hits the floor, I run my palms over the tattoos marking his chest. Shedding my jeans and leaving them on the floor with my panties, I stand before him naked.

“You took back your power today,” he says, lifting me against the wall. My legs wrap around his waist automatically, and I can feel his hardness pressing against my core through his pants. “Fuck, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I want you,” I gasp as he grinds against me. “Right here. Right now. I need to feel you inside me.”

His laugh is dark. “My bloodthirsty little Fury wants to be fucked next to her stepfather’s corpse? Christ, you’re perfect.”

The concrete is cold against my back, the new pet name catches me off guard and I make a mental note to resolve later. Nikolai’s body burns like a furnace where he presses against me rendering the chill at my back nonexistent.

“Look at you,” he breathes, fingers finding my wetness. “Soaked already. Killing him turned you on, didn’t it?”

I should be ashamed of how violence affects me. Instead, I buck against his hand, chasing more friction. “Yes. God, yes.”

“My beautiful predator.” He works two fingers inside me, thumb circling my clit. “You’re going to come on my hand while your stepfather’s body gets cold ten feet away.”

The words push me closer to the edge, making my inner walls clench around his fingers. The combination of violenceand desire, death and life, past trauma and present power—it’s intoxicating.

“That’s it,” he encourages as I writhe against his hand. “Come for me, baby. Show me how good it feels to be free.”

The orgasm hits like lightning, arcing through my body with devastating intensity. I bite down on his shoulder to muffle my scream, tasting salt and steel and barely restrained violence.

Before the aftershocks fade, he’s freed his cock from his pants, the steel piercing catching the harsh fluorescent light. I reach down to guide him to my entrance, desperate to be filled, to be claimed, to celebrate this twisted victory in the most primal way possible.

“Please,” I beg. “I need you inside me.”

He enters me in one brutal thrust, stretching me around his considerable girth. The piercing drags against sensitive walls, making me keen with pleasure-pain. Three months pregnant, my body is more sensitive than ever, every nerve ending electric under his touch.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groans. “Tight and hot and perfect. My woman.”

His thrusts start slow, controlled, but violence and adrenaline fuel a wildness in both of us. Soon he’s pounding into me with desperate intensity, each stroke driving me higher up the wall. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoes off concrete walls.

“You’re mine,” he snarls against my throat. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I gasp, nails raking down his back. “All yours.”

“The mother of my children. My perfect killer.”

His words push me toward another peak, the praise mixing with possession in ways that shouldn’t work but absolutely do. When he shifts the angle, hitting that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyes, I shatter.

“Nikolai!” His name tears from my throat as I come, inner walls clamping down on his length like a vice.

“That’s it, baby. Come on my cock.”

He follows me over the edge with a roar, spilling deep inside me while I’m still clenching around him. His release seems to last forever, hot spurts painting my inner walls.

We remain joined for long minutes afterward, both breathing hard, both covered in blood and sweat and the evidence of what we’ve just done. Richard’s corpse sits ten feet away, a reminder of old trauma finally put to rest.

“How do you feel?” Nikolai asks again, but his voice is softer now, tender in ways only I get to hear.

“Perfect.” I rest my forehead against his, sharing breath and space and this moment of absolute rightness. “He can never hurt me again.”

“Never,” he agrees fiercely. “And our daughter will never know fear like you did. She’ll grow up protected, loved, cherished.”

His hand finds the small curve of my belly. We found out the sex at the last scan, and she’s growing safe inside me while her father eliminates threats and her mother learns to embrace her own darkness.

“She’ll be perfect,” I whisper. “Strong like her father. Fierce like her mother.”