Page 41 of Princess Claimed

Without noticing, I’ve been backing toward it, as he’s been advancing. My ass rubs against the wooden door, and I fight to control my body’s movements. My heart is beating out of my chest; my pulse is throbbing in my throat, in my pussy.

“Your cunt is so fucking desperate for me,” he says. “So greedy.” Unhanding his member, he folds his arms over his chest, and I try not to notice how his stiffness stays upright, its massive weight shifting as if it’s alive on its own.

“Sorry, princess. You lost your chance. I wouldn’t fuck you now if you begged me. And no way would I ever fuck your asshole. Not enough room with that pole stuck up there.”

I suck in several long breaths, trying to regain any sense of composure, any ounce of dignity, any thread of control over this conversation that’s gone so far off the rails I can’t remember where I thought it was headed.

Phil’s default strategy is using his size as a threat. But I will not be threatened. Phil is all bark and no bite.

If he hates me so much, why did he bring me back here? I clearly make him feel something else, and he’s using this excess of blustery anger to cover it up.

I, on the other hand, know exactly how I feel about Phil. My body might be sexually attracted, excited about the danger of him, but I hate being around a man so out of touch with his emotions.

“Your threats are beginning to sound hollow.” I concentrate on lowering my heart rate, on removing my most obvious signs of fear—and arousal—but both seem wound up together. “If you refuse to go to the Rec Center, then let’s just get this over with.” Shrugging, as if it’s nothing, I start to lift my gown, but then freeze.

Who am I? Who is this person making these words come out of my mouth? Who is tricking my body into wanting Phil so badly it’s turned into something I need?

“Careful.” Grabbing his cock again, Phil steps forward. “I shatter every woman I fuck. I leave them all ruined.”

I shudder, remembering the scene Gracen described to me—a female vampire orgasming non-stop for hours, even after Phil left her.

Reaching back between my shoulder blades, I undo the tiny button holding my bodice together, letting the garment drop to my waist.

Phil’s panting now, his eyes fixated on my small breasts, and it’s hard to read anything in his expression beyond lust.

“You need to be sure,” Phil says, his voice softening, and suddenly I’m afraid that he won’t follow through with his threat—now that I actually want him to. Now that I need him to.

“Once you agree,” Phil says, his voice hoarse. “I won’t stop until I’m done. I won’t stop until you explode into a thousand pieces. Until bits of you are scattered all over this room.”

“More hollow threats.” My chest heaves as I taunt him.

My entire body is trembling, throbbing inside. But I’m now certain that sex is the only way I can rid myself of my misplaced desire. Sex with Phil will certainly cure the aggravating, raging need threatening to detonate inside me.

Sex with Phil is going to hurt. He’s so big that some pain is inevitable. But I’ve faced pain before. I can recover.

And this pain will be worth it, because if Phil hurts me, if he truly hurts me, I’ll be cured. Cured of ever wanting him to touch me again.

Chapter

Twenty

Phil

Rage builds inside me, detonating in powerful explosions centered deep in my chest and solid in my balls. The blasts of anger are so strong, they leave only rage and ruin inside my mind in the places where there should be reason. Only base need where there should be control.

But the more I resent this woman for how she’s fucked up our lives—and even more for how she makes me feel—the more I want to use my cock to teach her a lesson.

I want my cock to punish Ana for destroying my carefully constructed defenses. I want to destroy her.

That is so fucked up. I take a step back.

“Come on then.” Taunting me, she lifts her pillowing skirts to expose her tiny ankles, her shapely calves, a hint of her knees. “Let’s get this over with.”

Her voice is commanding, but her breaths are coming quickly, revealing a hint of fear—and far more than a hint of arousal. If I weren’t so filled with frustration and rage, I might find it cute how she’s working so hard to disguise her own need. But that thought just makes me angrier. Is she trying to manipulate me into fucking her?

Now I can’t sort out whether fucking was my idea or hers.

I shake my head. It’s clear that we both want to detonate the infernal sexual chemistry between us. A viciously hard fuck should stamp out my twin fuses of hate and sexual frustration. And she’s inviting it. Foolish woman. She has no idea.

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