Page 163 of Prey

“Did you know? When you decided to stalk me?”

I grinned at that and shook my head. “No, I didn’t know you were that little girl from the cliff. It had been seven years, and you were barely a teenager at that time. You’ve changed.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “What are the odds?”

“Very unlikely.” I grabbed her hand and pulled it up, letting her palm rest against my chest so she could feel my heartbeat.

So she could feel what had once been a dead organ coming alive at her mere presence.

“It’s fate,” I said.

Her lips twisted. “Fate? I don’t believe in fate.”

I raised one eyebrow over her word. “No? You don’t think you were made for me?”

She laughed. “Only you can make something like that sound so possessive.”

I growled, coming in closer to her face. I was so fucking possessive of her, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon.

“You’re mine and only mine. Got it?”

I was going to get her a fucking patch that said,Property of Roman Stone,so no other fucker would even think to encroach on what was mine.

She was smiling when she answered, “Got it.”

I leaned down and kissed her hard, and like every time I kissed her, bolts of electricity ran up and down my body.

It was a fucking addictive feeling.

“Never letting you go,” I muttered against her lips.

She nodded against me. “Don’t ever let me go.”

“You’re mine. You’re my property. Got it?”

“Yes, yours,” she said, kissing me back. “Your property.”

I leaned back and pulled her over my body, so she straddled me.

She sat there and looked down at me, like a powerful queen on her fucking throne.

I grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and off her, taking in the view of her pebbled nipples, the small dip near her belly, the flare of her hips, and finally, her sweet pussy that was covered by an innocent pair of cotton white panties.

She ground against me, and I could feel my cock hardening from the move.

I reached up and gripped her tits in each hand, squeezing her roughly before pulling away.

The skin turned red from my harsh treatment as she rocked her hips harder against me.

“Fuck.”

I pulled back and slapped her nipple, and she arched in closer to me.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

I had gotten to her, but not soon enough. The bastard had whipped her four times, causing four lines marring the skin on her back. Only one was open and bleeding when I finally got her home, but those four lashes were four lashes too many.

It made me feel murderous looking at it, and I wished I had prolonged the fucker’s death.

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