Page 42 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
I closed my lips around his thumb and sucked, flicking my tongue over the tip before I pulled away. He snatched a sharp breath.
I gave a low chuckle, twin to the one he gave so often. “You think I’ll back down,” I whispered against his skin. “Oh, my poor prince, do you understand now who you’re dealing with?”
Still bound by his tail, I managed to slide up his thigh far enough to make him tense. With a roll of my hips, I ground my arse against him and was rewarded with the twitch of his cock.
The achievement flooded me, hot and bright and pulsing.
I smirked, letting the claw of his thumb press into my lip. “Does this look like backing down to you?”
“Leave us.” His husky voice boomed across the room, chiming in the chandeliers.
The room emptied.
18
He didn’t break from me, eyes locked with mine in a battle whose only sound was the mingled one of our deep breaths.
The door closed, and that was when he erupted.
One hand around my throat, he slammed me into the table. I wasn’t even entirely aware of it happening—I just blinked and then I was there, plates smashing to the floor, the hard surface biting into my back.
The prince bent over me, breaths harsh and hot against my face, teeth bared. “You’re speaking, little bird.” His voice shook with vicious intensity. “Sounds a lot like backing down to me.” He pressed into the space between my legs, which only added to the sweet sensation of triumph chasing through me.
My hands were free now, but I left them splayed on the table. Let him see I didn’t need to lift a finger to win. Instead, I cocked my head at him. “It’s a sad position you’re in that getting me to speak is such a great victory.”
My body throbbed with the heady pleasure of winning. I blamed that for my legs looping around his hips and pulling me flush against him. He was already semi-hard, and hot wetness flooded my centre.
He made a low sound but did nothing to pull away or bring me closer.
“You’re the onebeneathin this position, pet. You’re the one wearing a collar.” There was a series of soft clicks as his claws scraped across the jewels at my throat.
Danger, my speeding pulse warned. But also, it whispered,pleasure. And that was something I’d been starved of for too long.
So, too, was this bright and beautiful rage surging through me. The heat of all these emotions merged, their borders lost, until I didn’t know where fear ended and anger began, nor how desire fit with them.
I ground against him. It only took a moment before he was hard, the tip digging into my belly through our clothing.
Another victory. It pulled a soft moan from me. I definitely didn’t make the sound because of the feel of his hardness against my softness, the sweet friction against my clit.
No. This was all about the elation of winning.
Maybe it was the sound I made, but at last, the prince shifted from a still participant to movement. His grip around my throat tightened, like he could catch my moan, and he pressed into me, hips snapping like we really were fucking.
His breathless weight on my body was delicious. Real and vibrant.
I tried to pretend it was the weight of his death. But the way he rolled against me snatched my attention, honing it to a fine beam of light that centred on my pussy.
Snarling, he held my gaze. I grinned right back, high on his ensnared attention.
Making my enemy want me. It was a dangerous game. A thrilling one. One that made me feel far more alive than a decade of plotting to kill him ever had.
It roared in my ears like rapturous applause. A standing ovation.
Maybe murder had been shortsighted. This could be a much sweeter revenge.
Because he’d called me his little bird and his pet, and yet I was a bird freed.
I soared on the glory of feeling. On the glory ofliving.
