Page 87 of Prey

The honest vulnerability in his voice makes my chest ache. Makes me want things I have no business wanting. A home with him. A life, however fucked up. Children who would grow up knowing they were wanted, protected, loved in ways I never was.

“I won’t run,” I whisper back, and mean it. Not because I’m conditioned, not because I’m broken, but because somewhere in this insane spiral of captivity and Stockholm Syndrome, I’ve fallen in love with my captor.

We’re both sick. Both damaged beyond repair. But maybe, just maybe, we can be broken together.

Nikolai’s eyes stay soft. He reaches between us, checking to make sure none of his cum has leaked out, adjusting my position on the breeding bench.

“Seventy-two hours,” he says quietly. “I’m keeping you here for seventy-two hours. Every few hours, I’m going to breed you again. By the end, you’ll be so full of my cum there’s pno chance it won’t take.”

I find myself looking forward to it. To three days of nothing but this—his body claiming mine, his seed taking root, the slow dissolution of whatever boundaries still exist between us.

“Okay,” I breathe. “But if it doesn’t, we just keep going. I want you to breed me every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and settles in to wait for his refractory period to end.

In the mirrors, I watch myself—naked, restrained, bred, and utterly content. I should be disgusted with what I’ve become. Instead, I feel complete for the first time in my life.

Broken, but complete.

32

NIKOLAI

The spoon hovers near her lips, chicken broth steaming in the dim light. Jenna’s thighs tremble around my cock, every micro-movement sending ripples through her cunt. For three hours, I’ve kept her like this, warming my dick while I go about the evening regimen I have meticulously designed.

“Open.”

Her lips part. I slide the spoon between them, then roll my hips. Just a fraction, but enough to drag my piercing along that spot inside her that makes her whole body clench. Soup dribbles down her chin.

“Messy girl.” I catch the drops with my thumb and push them into her mouth alongside the next spoonful. Another thrust, deeper this time. Her throat works around a moan.

“You’re not focusing on eating.”

“Hard to focus when you’re—” She gasps as I grind up into her. “When you keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” Another spoonful. Another thrust. Her pussy contracts, trying to milk me, but I keep my movements controlled. “I’m just feeding you dinner.”

The bowl sits on the small table beside us. I selected this position specifically—her back to my chest, legs spread wide over mine, open to the mirrors surrounding us. Every angle shows where we’re joined, her cunt stretched around my thickness, the mess of our combined fluids coating her thighs.

“Please…” Her head falls back against my shoulder.

“Please, what? You need to eat. Growing our baby takes energy.”

She shudders at the words. Twenty-three hours since I locked her in here, and already she’s responded beyond my expectations. Every mention of breeding, of the baby I’m going to put in her, makes her cunt flutter.

“Another bite.”

She takes it, and I reward her with a slow circle of my hips. The angle forces my cock to drag along her front wall, stimulating places that make her see stars. Her bound hands flex uselessly against the leather cuffs securing them behind her back.

“Good girl. See how much better you eat when I’m inside you? Your body knows what it needs.”

The spoon clinks against the bowl. Only broth tonight—nothing too heavy when I plan to fuck her for hours. I reach for the next spoonful, deliberately shifting my weight. The movement drives me deeper, and she makes a broken sound.

“Nikolai…”

“Shh. Dinner first.”

But my control is slipping. Three hours of her heat surrounding me, her little movements and whimpers, the way she clenches every time I mention breeding—it’s destroying my restraint. The spoon trembles slightly as I bring it to her lips.