Chapter 27
JENNA
The compound’s darkness presses against the windows, but sleep won’t come. How could it? Nikolai sleeps behind me, his breathing deep and even, one arm wrapped possessively around my waist while his cock stays buried inside me.
“Insurance,” he’d called it with that infuriating smirk. “Can’t sneak away while you’re impaled on my cock, can you, beautiful?”
Every breath I take shifts him slightly inside me. Every small movement sends ripples of sensation through my overstimulated nerves. He’s half-hard still, maintaining possession even in unconsciousness. My body can’t forget he’s there—won’t let me separate mentally from what he’s doing to me.
The worst part? I’m getting wetter by the minute.
The constant pressure, the intimate invasion, the sheer possessiveness of keeping me filled while he sleeps—my traitorous body reads it all as prolonged foreplay. By dawn, I’ll be climbing the walls with need.
That’s exactly what he wants. He’s making me crave being filled by him, so I associate his presence inside me with completion. Even this—especially this—is psychological warfare disguised as intimacy.
I shift, trying to find a position that doesn’t drive me insane. The movement makes him twitch inside me, and I bite back a gasp. Jesus. I can’t even move.
Twenty minutes pass. Then thirty. The ache between my legs grows unbearable. I’m so wet I can feel it coating my thighs, making everything slick. His cock seems to grow harder as I get more aroused, like our bodies are locked in some feedback loop of mutual torment.
I can’t take it anymore.
Slowly, carefully, I rock my hips. Just a tiny movement, barely an inch. The friction sends electricity up my spine, and I have to press my lips together to keep from moaning.
Another rock. Then another. I start moving in the smallest possible increments, fucking myself on his cock while he sleeps because I’m too desperate to lie still. The careful rhythm builds heat low in my belly, each tiny thrust pushing me closer to the edge I’ve been teetering on for an hour.
“Getting your own back, are you?”
I freeze. His voice is sleep-rough but amused, vibrating against my ear. How long has he been awake?
“Fucking me while I’m sleeping.” His arm tightens around my waist, holding me still. “What happened to all that resistance, beautiful?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “What the fuck do you expect?” The words come out breathier than I intended. “I can’t sleep with you inside me. It’s driving me insane.”
“Mmm.” He flexes his hips, pushing deeper, and I can’t stop the whimper that escapes. “So you decided to use my cock to get yourself off? That’s very… slutty of you.”
“Don’t—”
“Slutty for my cum,” he continues, his free hand sliding down to where we’re joined. “Look how wet you are. Soaking my cock while I sleep because you can’t control yourself.”
His fingers rub my clit, and I arch against him, a broken sound tearing from my throat.
“That’s it.” He moves, slow deep thrusts that make me see stars. “Show me how desperate you are.”
All pretense of resistance crumbles. I push back against him, meeting every thrust, chasing the orgasm that’s been building since he first pushed inside me hours ago. The angle hits places that make me shake, and when he bites down on my shoulder, I come apart.
“Fuck, Nikolai—”
“That’s right. Come on my cock like the good little slut you’re becoming—my good little slut.”
The climax tears through me, leaving me gasping. But he’s not done. He rolls me onto my stomach, covers my body with his, and starts pounding into me with a rhythm that turns my mind to static.
The sound is obscene—wet slaps of skin on skin, his harsh breathing in my ear, my own desperate moans muffled by the pillow. He’s hitting that spot inside me that makes everything spark, building me toward another peak I didn’t know I could reach.
“You’re going to squirt for me,” he growls against my ear. “Going to make a mess all over my cock.”
“I don’t—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His hand slides under me, fingers working my clit while he fucks me into the mattress. “Let go, Jenna. Give me everything.”
The pressure builds to breaking point. When it snaps, liquid heat gushes from me, soaking the sheets and his cock as I scream into the pillow. My whole body shudders, every nerve firing at once while he continues thrusting through my release.
He comes with a harsh groan, buried so deep I can feel him pulse against my cervix. We collapse together, both shaking, both struggling to breathe.
After a long moment, he pulls out enough to turn me in his arms so I’m facing him before pushing back in. I’m boneless, wrung out, barely coherent. He studies my face with those predatory blue eyes.
“Next time I think I’ll put it in your ass,” he says conversationally. “Maybe then you’ll sleep better.”
The words are like ice water. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” That vicious smile curves his lips. “You’d fight it at first, but we both know how that would end, don’t we?”
My core clenches involuntarily at the thought—the invasion, the claiming, the complete helplessness of being taken somewhere I’ve never been fucked. I’m mortified by my reaction, by the fresh wave of arousal his threat generates.
He sees it. “I think you’d like it,” he murmurs, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to my forehead. “Another piece of you that I can claim, one more layer to unravel, one more depraved layer that reaffirms just how completely I own you.”
He settles me against his chest, his cock softening but still inside me. Still ensuring I can’t forget who I belong to, even in sleep.
“Rest now,” he says, like he’s giving me permission. “Tomorrow’s hunt starts at dawn. Four-hour head start this time, and I’ll give you weapons.”
“Four hours.” I arch a brow. “Like the two you promised last time? You came for me in ninety minutes.”
Something flickers across his face—caught, and not sorry about it. “I got impatient.”
“So how do I know you’ll give me four tomorrow?”
“Because a short hunt bores me.” His thumb traces my jaw, the gesture at odds with the predator underneath. “Last time I couldn’t wait. This time I want you to make me work for it. Cutting your head start just ruins my own game—and I don’t ruin my own games.”
“That’s not exactly a promise.”
“It’s better than one. It’s the truth.” His eyes hold mine. “Four hours, Jenna. Run hard. Make me earn it.”
Despite everything, my pulse quickens. The promise of a real challenge, of making him work to catch me. Of earning the claiming that will follow.
I’m not surviving captivity anymore. I’m participating in my own conditioning, and the realization should terrify me.
But as exhaustion finally pulls me under, all I can think about is how I’m going to make tomorrow’s hunt count.