Page 213 of Scarlet Wars
The weight of his stare was almost unbearable. He wasn’t asking, he washunting.
But if pretty boy thought he could out-intimidate me, he’d forgotten who he was dealing with.
I leaned in until my lips brushed his ear and whispered, “Every. Damn. Time.”
He let out a low, primal growl that rumbled through his chest. The sound alone sent a shiver down my spine.
“You really shouldn’t have told me that.”
I blinked a few times, feigning innocence even as my pulse hammered. “Why not?”
His jaw clenched, gaze burning like he was holding himself together by sheer will. He leaned in even closer, the faintest brush of his lips at the edge of my ear.
“Because now,” he said, voice a rasp, “all I can think about is testing just how true that is.”
He pulled back so suddenly I almost gasped. For a heartbeat, I thought he’d walk away altogether. Instead, he turned, picked the book back up from the table, and flipped it open like he was consulting evidence.
His demand was quiet but edged in steel. “Take off your clothes.”
His eyes lifted, pinning me in place. Hunger and challenge burned in them, daring me to call his bluff.
I swallowed hard, pulse ricocheting in my throat. Then, with hands that trembled only slightly, I gripped the hem of my top and pulled it over my head.
He tracked every movement. Slowly. Possessively.
He didn’t reach for me. Didn’t touch. Just stood there, gaze searing into my bare skin until I felt hotter than fire. Then, with maddening calm, he spoke.
“Take your pants off.”
My breath caught, pulse hammering at my throat. His tone wasn’t a request, it was a command. One I obeyed, sliding my pants down my legs, every inch of exposed skin a live wire under his gaze.
“Those too,” he said, nodding to the thin scrap of lace left.
I curled my fingers in the waistband, dragging them down agonizingly slow. The fabric clung to the curve of my hips before slipping past, down my legs, leaving me completely naked. I let them fall to the floor beside my discarded pants, my chest rising and falling too fast.
He didn’t move. Didn’t touch. Just sat there, tight fists, watching me like I was both his salvation and his ruin.
“Open your legs for me. Present me what’s mine.”
My breath hitched, but I did as he asked, knees falling apart under his gaze, baring myself completely. Heat crawled over my skin, not just from exposure, but from the way he looked atme: jaw clenched, pupils blown, chest rising like he was holding himself back with every ounce of control he had left.
“Good girl,” he bit out, the words all gravel and fire. “Now read this. Out loud.”
I cleared my throat and started the chapter he’d opened for me.
“Do you know what it means to be starfished, you little slut?”
I shake my head, a jolt of both fear and excitement pulsing through me at the thought.
“You’re going to take all of us, held tight, arms and legs spread wide like a little starfish, completely exposed and helpless. Laid out for us to feast on, to use, to fuck in every hole without mercy. Are you ready for that?”
I have never nodded so fast in my life. Five full-blooded vampires, all ripped and menacing, ready to claim me—fuck me—completely. How the hell did I get so damn lucky?
“Lift her onto the table,” the biggest one snarls, voice rough and commanding. “Rip off her clothes, and chain her up where we can have our way.”
Without breaking eye contact, he frees himself from his pants, the thick, veiny length of his cock springing free. His black eyes burn with hunger as he wraps a large hand around himself, pumping slow, but with hard strokes that send a primal heat rippling through me.
“You’re dripping down your thighs, you filthy girl. You read about a girl getting fucked in all holes, and you can’t wait to be fucked yourself, can you?”
