Page 34 of His Perfect Prey
“You’re not independent, little red. You’re mine.”
9
Elodie
I lay in bed,icing my ankle. Since Atticus’s visit a few days ago, the swelling has gone way down, but I’m still taking pain meds and icing it. Keeping to the routine and staying off of it so I can heal.
There isn’t much else for me to do. With Margot and the kids safe, I don’t have to scramble to survive. I’m so used to going from one crisis to the next that I have no idea what to do with myself except worry about me and Jaeger.
You’re my woman.Just like that, I belong to him.
What would it be like to be so certain? So sure?
We’ve settled into an uneasy truce. He seems to sense I need time to digest this. He’s left me alone to eat delicious food—he has some sort of meal service set up for his penthouse because whatever I’m in the mood for shows up on a covered tray within minutes—and lounge around the cozy living room watching rom-coms.
The ring sparkles on my hand. Every time I look at it, I want to hyperventilate, but I don’t take it off.
This can’t last. Men always leave. I might as well get what I can out of this crazy arrangement before he gets tired of having me around.
If that makes me a gold digger, so be it.
Jaeger disappears for most of the day, which I’m grateful for at first but also resent. He doesn’t have a traditional nine-to-five sort of day job but lurks around, taking phone calls, then coming and going at all hours. It leaves me to wonder what he’s up to. What does he do for Fraternitas? All the evidence points to him being an enforcer for the brotherhood, which means blood and violence. I spiral on this before telling myself I don’t want to know.
He does take every opportunity to kiss, eat, or fuck me. To the point where I get wet when he walks into the room.
This afternoon is no exception. I wake from a nap to the door opening.
“Honey, I’m home.” Jaeger prowls to my side and kisses me before I realize I’m not dreaming about a Viking marauder breaking into my fantasy hygge home to ravage me. His golden stubble scrapes my cheeks, and the prickly sensation wakes me up.
Before I know it, I’m wrapping my arms around him and sliding my hands under his shirt and up his back. There’s a rough edge under my palm. His brand. I realize what I’m touching and yank my hand away.
“Where were you?” I ask before I remember that’s not a great question to ask a mafia thug.
“Out. Did you eat?” He sifts through the remnants of my lunch and frowns when he finds a whole club sandwich. I nibbled on one piece of bacon and ate the tomato soup and chips instead.
“You’re not eating enough,” he accuses me and wolfs down half the sandwich in one bite.
I brush crumbs off my sweatshirt so I don’t completely look like a poster child for depression. “I’m fine.”
“You need your strength.” He studies my ankle and squeezes my bare knee. I’ve taken to wearing skirts and dresses to make it easy to dress and undress. At his innocuous touch, heat runs up my bare leg, and my pussy begins to throb. “You need all your strength to handle me.”
My body is heating up, ready tohandlehim.
I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“No?” He finishes the sandwich and gives me a wolfish smile that makes my breasts swell.
To hide my reaction, I growl at him.
“Grumpy bunny.” He climbs over me, pressing me into the couch cushions and nuzzling my face. My hips rise automatically to meet him. “It’s okay. I know how to make you sweet.” He’s going to fuck me again and leave me dazed and pliant from orgasms. And my body is ready for it.
I push at his shoulder. “Stop.”
He grabs my palm and kisses it. “You don’t want me to fuck you? To suck your clit until you’re screaming my name?”
I suck in a breath. I do want all that. I’ve had it before, earlier today and three times yesterday, and my clit remembers it fondly. He fights dirty.
He props himself up, his hips still pressing into my pulsing core. His weight is delicious, and I want more, but he takes a moment to cup my cheek in one huge hand. “You like me, bunny. Why do you resist this?”
