Page 86 of Prey

“Yes,” I say, and the word comes out steadier than it should. “Yours.”

He fucks my ass with increasing brutality, each thrust driving me higher. The mirrors multiply every sensation, showing me my submission from every angle. I come without warning, my body clenching around him as pleasure tears through me like lightning.

Nikolai follows immediately, his cock pulsing as he fills my ass with cum. He stays buried deep, panting against my neck, and I can feel him still twitching inside me.

“Don’t move,” he commands when he finally withdraws. “Stay exactly like that.”

He reaches for something on the table—a black silicone plug, as thick as his cock. He positions it at my entrance and pushes, working it in slowly until the flared base sits flush against me.

“Keep that in,” he says, patting the plug. “I want my cum staying exactly where I put it.”

The fullness is overwhelming. The plug is heavy, constant pressure that makes me hyperaware of what just happened. What he just claimed.

Nikolai moves to the sink in the corner, washing himself thoroughly before returning to the bench. His cock is already hardening again as he positions himself between my spread thighs.

“Now for the main event,” he murmurs, running the head of his cock through my wet folds. “This is where my seed takes root.”

“Nikolai, wait—” But I don’t want him to wait. The protest dies in my throat as he pushes into me in one smooth stroke.

The sensation of being filled in both holes simultaneously is indescribable. The plug presses against him through the thin wall separating my passages, making everything tighter, more intense. I can barely breathe, can barely think beyond the overwhelming fullness.

“Perfect,” he breathes, starting a slow, deep rhythm. “You were made for this. Made to take me, to carry my baby.”

The words should terrify me. Should trigger every rational thought about why this is wrong, why I can’t let this happen. Instead, they make me clench around him, make me arch into his thrusts despite the restraints.

“You want it,” he continues, his voice rough with pleasure. “Say it. Tell me you want to be bred.”

“I—” I can’t form words. The intensity is too much, the pleasure building to something that feels like it might kill me. “I can’t?—”

“You can.” He leans over me, bracing his hands on either side of my shoulders. “Look at me, Jenna. Look at me and tell me what you want.”

I meet his eyes, and for a moment I see his control crack. Vulnerable need that mirrors my own.

“I want—” The words stick in my throat. Because admitting this feels like crossing a line I can never uncross. “I want you to breed me.”

His rhythm falters for just a second. Then he’s moving again, harder now, chasing something bigger than orgasm.

“Again,” he demands. “Say it again.”

“Breed me.” The words come easier now, like a dam breaking. “Fill me up. Make me pregnant. I want to carry your baby.”

The admission breaks both of us open. Nikolai’s thrusts become erratic and desperate, and I can feel myself climbing toward another orgasm despite everything my rational mind is screaming.

Then he does something he hasn’t done since my recapture. He discards his mask and kisses me.

The kiss is nothing like the brutal claiming of my body. It’s soft, almost reverent, and it destroys me more than anything else he’s done. Because this isn’t the hunter kissing his captive. This is Nikolai kissing Jenna, and the tenderness in it makes my chest crack open.

I kiss him back desperately, and the air shifts between us. The fucking becomes more intimate in a way that terrifies me.

When I come, it’s with his name on my lips and his tongue in my mouth. My body contracts around him, milking his cock as he drives deep and holds there, filling me with pulse after pulse of cum.

He doesn’t pull out immediately. Instead, he kisses me again, softer this time, his forehead pressed to mine.

“Stay with me,” he whispers against my lips, and I realize he’s not giving me a command. He’s asking. Pleading, maybe.

“Nikolai—”

“Don’t run again. Please.” His voice cracks on the word, and I see past the predator to the broken boy underneath. “I can’t—I won’t survive losing you again.”