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I squirm, trying to slip from his grasp, but his palm flattens against the small of my back, pinning me to the counter. He doesn’t resume where he left off. Instead, he drags his beard along the inside of my thigh; and the coarseness of it makes me shudder.

His tongue follows, tracing a slow, maddening path toward where I ache.

Don’t you dare, I snarl inwardly, nails digging into the stone as my pussy throbs. You are not this easy.

But then his mouth closes over my clit and sucks, hard, and my palms slide helplessly asI push myself closer to his face. I am liquid and wanton, utterly conquered.

“Elias—” The name comes out ragged, stripped bare. “I’m close, please—”

He pulls away abruptly. The loss is agonizing.

“Are you?” His hand connects with my ass, and pleasure and pain spiral through me as I feel myself clench helplessly around nothing, wet and empty. “Who knew that you would be so eager to come on my tongue after being hunted for less than ten minutes?”

Rage cuts through the haze of lust.

I drive my heel up blindly, connecting solidly with his chest. The air leaves his lungs in a harsh grunt. Scrambling off the counter, I hit the floor running, nearly losing my footing as I dart for another hallway.

“That,” his voice curls after me, dark with promise, “will cost you.”

“Fuck your cost!” I snarl into the shadows, veering left around a corner.

For a heartbeat, I think I’ve lost him. Then his voice comes again, closer now, smooth as poured whiskey. “Time’s up, Little Doe. I’m getting bored with this.”

I fling myself around another corner, only to skid to a halt when I’m met with another row of closed doors. Taking a chance, my hand closes on the nearest knob. I shove through, slam it behind me, and throw the lock.

Learning from the last time, I press my back to the door, and look around.

The air is cool. Dry. Rows of bottles gleam under soft amber lights. The scent of oak and dust hangs heavy.

A wine cellar.

I push off the door and move deeper into the narrow aisle; rows of bottles rise like dark sentinels on either side, their glass cool under my trailing fingers. For a second, I think I've outsmarted him… and then I see it—a sliver of light on the far wall behind the last rack.

Another door?

My heart hammers against my ribs as I surge forward, bare feet slapping against cold concrete. I reach for the handle just as the lock disengages with a definitive click.

Elias steps inside, the wood swinging shut behind him. “You really should’ve checked the room before you celebrated.”

He advances slowly, a predator who knows the cage is locked. I back into a wine rack; my chest rising and falling rapidly as bottles shiver behind me.

Adrenaline burns through me and I do the first thing I can think of, which is to snatch up the nearest bottle and swing. He catches my wrist mid-arc, his forearm deflecting the glass with a dull clink.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” his fingers tighten. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Let go, you asshole!” I snarl, twisting in his grip, but he pries the bottle from my fingers. It thuds softly onto the floor.

“Okay.” He releases my wrist only to shove me down. Concrete bites into my palms and knees. I scramble toward the sliver of light, but his hand closes around my ankle, dragging me back across the rough floor until my hips are in his hands.

“No!”

“Yes, little mischief.” His breath skates over my skin as he spreads my legs with his own. “You run, I chase. You fight, I take. That’s how this works.”

His fingers knot in my hair and push me down until I fold, and my ass is high in the air. The broad head of his cock drags through my slickness, painting himself with the wet evidence of the chase.

A low moan escapes me, unbidden.

“Damn,” Elias rasps, grinding against me, the friction maddening. “All that fight just left you dripping.”