The way Elijah watches me can only be described one way.
A predator stalking his prey.
That should terrify me. I should be running as fast as I can and fighting like my life depends on it, which, let’s face it, it does. And yet I’m rooted to the bed, unable to make a move. I’m vaguely aware of my robe falling off my shoulder, but when his eyes track down my body and feast on my bare breast, I can’t find it in me to cover myself. He’s seen it all before anyway. Considering the number of times he’s referred to stalking me. I’m sure he’s seen them a whole bunch of times.
“Robe,” Elijah says simply. He doesn’t need to say another word for me to know what he’s asking, and before I can really think through what I’m doing, I slip it off my shoulders and allow it to pool around me. When cool air hits my heated skin, goose bumps assault me, and a shiver brushes down my spine. “Good girl.”
My skin heats at his praise, a flush spreading from my chest up to my cheeks and he seems to like what he sees.
Slowly, so fucking slowly it almost hurts, Elijah reaches for the back of his shirt and tugs it over his head to reveal his perfectly sculpted chest. This man is a work of art, but when you take a moment to take in his tattoos as well, Jesus Christ, God was doing some of his finest work the day he made Elijah Russo.
The intricate lines spread across his vast chest, down his toned abdomen, and disappear into the waistband of his sweatpants. The images inked into his arms are so beautiful they almost look like the art on the wall. Gods and goddesses cover every spare inch of skin and it’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what inspired him to have himself permanently marked with mythological beings. But I can’t bring myself to ruin this moment, to break the trance we’re both held in.
Elijah takes a step toward the bed. His abs flex with the movement and I press my legs together to ease the ache. How can a man so large and savage move with such grace? It almost seems unnatural.
“Do you like what you see, Snowflake?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.
My breath catches in my throat. I’m still not convinced he’s not going to hurt me for holding a gun on him and giving him an ultimatum, but the way he looks at me with pure fire and lust, there’s something in the way his eyes roam across my body that tells me if he was going to hurt me, he would have done it already.
“I asked you a question, Snow. I’m not a patient man, don’t mistake me for being one.”
“Yes,” I murmur the answer into the quiet room, the only sounds are our heavy breaths mixing together as he gets closer to the edge of the bed. My pussy aches from his rough treatment and the hardness of the gun. I’ve never had anything that wasn’t meant to be used for fucking in my pussy before, and the burn is a constant reminder of what he just did to me.
The entire time he was thrusting the weapon into me, I was expecting it to go off. Part of me thought when I came would be the moment he pulled the trigger and ended my life, like some kind of fucked-up poetic justice. But when I realized it was never loaded, it was like I could breathe again after being held underwater for so long I thought I might drown.
A deviant smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, and a moment later, he’s pushing his sweatpants down his muscular thighs and discarding them across the room. He’s not wearing anything underneath, and when I focus on his hard cock, I can’t help but swallow in a combination of need and terror. He’s huge. Way bigger than any other guy I’ve ever been with, and not by a small margin. My jaw still aches from when he fucked my mouth, I can’t imagine my pussy is going to fare any better.
The way he moves toward me is predatory. It doesn’t matter if this isn’t what I want, or if I kick and scream until my lungs give out. Elijah is going to take exactly what he wants, and right now, that’s me. I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want this. Despite my better judgment and all the reasons I should fight, I don’t want to. I enjoy the way my skin heats when his eyes rake down my body, and the way a tingle of need spreads through me every time his fingers brush across my skin. I’m addicted to how I feel when I’m with him, including how fucking terrified I am at how unpredictable he is. Perhaps that’s part of the appeal. I’ve always craved going against the grain, breaking the rules just for the sake of it. And what’s considered more of a broken rule than fucking the enemy?
“If you keep looking at me like that, Snowflake, I’m going to start thinking you want me to fuck you,” he rumbles. The deep tone of his voice makes my legs press together of their own accord. Despite my recent orgasm, I need relief almost as badly as I need my next breath.
When his muscular thighs meet the edge of the mattress, he pauses and watches me for long moments. Every movement I make, from the slight quiver of my lip under his scrutiny to the way my body trembles with a mixture of fear and need, his watchful gaze only seems to escalate it. My heart beats so hard in my chest I’m afraid it’s going to leap across the room, and if I didn’t know better, I would think Elijah can sense it. But he’s too far away to see my pulse beating in my neck.
Elijah chuckles, his knees digging into the mattress one at a time as he crawls toward me. The moment his body brushes over mine, a shiver makes its way up my spine. He’s right, I do want this. I want it so badly I can barely breathe through it, but I’m not ready to admit that to him yet, not when he’s been able to best me at every turn.
“Is your pussy craving my cock, little Snowflake?” he murmurs, his head dropping until his lips whisper across my neck and leave goose bumps in their wake.
“No,” I lie.
Elijah sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of my throat, and I hiss at the sudden pain. “Don’t lie to me, Snow. I’ve made a lot of allowances for you, more than I ever would anyone else, but I will not tolerate you denying what we both know.”
My breath catches in my throat. How does he always know? Every time I’ve lied to him, even when I’ve merely kept something from him, he’s known.
“Now, try again. Is your sweet little cunt craving my cock? Do you want me to fuck you so hard you forget your own fucking name?”
“Yes,” I whisper into the space between us. His face is so close to mine it would be easy to press my lips to his, but I fight against the pull.
“That’s what I thought.” He smiles smugly, pressing his knees forward until my thighs are wrapped around his body and his cock is nestled at my entrance. “Now I’m not going to make you beg, although you are so pretty when you do. But you will ask nicely.”
I stare at him blankly for a moment, thinking he must be joking since the two things are so similar, but when there isn’t a trace of amusement dancing in his green eyes, I know he’s as serious as he is about everything else. My mouth dries at the idea of asking for something I swore I would never want, but who am I to deny my own pleasure? And even if I were strong enough to do so, Elijah Russo isn’t a man who takes no for an answer.
