Page 37 of Captive Prize

Christ. She was virgin.

A virgin.

Untouched.

Until me.

The very idea that my cock was the first to feel the sweet tight clench of her pussy sent a bolt of something dark and primal ripping through me.

Not just arousal. Possession.

I was going to be her first.

Her only.

The impossible thought came unbidden—and yet, I couldn’t shake it.

Her only.

She was mine now.

“You’re still a virgin?” I asked. It came out as more of an accusation.

Zoya turned her head, her green eyes flashing with something lethal, something more than hatred or embarrassment.

I didn’t care. This was more important.

“Your husband didn’t fuck you on your wedding night? How is that possible?”

Her smirk was sharp, wicked even. “Maybe he could have gotten his flaccid dick up…if I hadn’t slit his throat first. He bled out so quickly, I don’t think he even had the chance to pop that little blue pill.”

I laughed.

The hatred and the vitriol in her voice mixed with this undeniable quick-witted snark was incredible.

Because of course she had.

Everyone assumed one of her father’s enemies killed her husband, or maybe some jilted lover. Hell, even I assumed that without a second thought.

But no.

This little minx took matters into her own hands.

Her husband would have never seen it coming. He would have had no idea that her father had sold him a black widow.

Well, that wasn’t true. Black widows fucked their mates before they killed them. She just slit his throat. Vicious and efficient.

I backed away from her, tucking my cock back into my pants before turning her over then wrapping my hands around her narrow hips, lifting her into a sitting position on the desktop.

She winced as her freshly spanked ass hit the cold, dented wood of the desk.

I took a little pride in that wince.

Her legs were still open, inviting, and goddamn, I wanted to drop to my knees and worship that perfect little virgin cunt. To get it ready for me to claim.

Instead, I grabbed her jaw, forcing her eyes to meet mine until our lips almost brushed, the sexual tension thick between us.

“Is that supposed to be a warning? If I try to fuck you, are you going to slit my throat, too?”

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