Page 60 of Captive Prize

Instead, I played dirty.

She enjoyed pretending that she didn’t want me.

Too bad for her.

She had a shit poker face. Her body revealed her desire at every single turn.

That was an advantage I intended to press.

“It’s not happening,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ignoring her refusal, I pulled my cotton T-shirt off and threw it in the direction of the hamper. She turned her head, but she was watching me out of the corner of her eye.

My fingers toyed with my belt, slow and deliberate. I wanted her to remember what I could do with it—how I could own her with nothing more than leather and desire. She remembered. Itwas obvious in the way her thighs pressed together and her body tensed as I pulled the belt free from the loops.

She remembered what it was like for me to wrap this belt around her throat. How her body responded when I used it as a collar and a leash to bend her to my will.

I bet her pussy was already wet for me.

I was going to bend her to my will again, but I wasn’t going to need the belt. Not this time.

I dropped it to the side and undid the button of my trousers.

She didn’t pretend she wasn’t watching me anymore. Instead, she faced me, her eyes on me, but her expression was practiced indifference.

It should’ve worked.

It would have wounded my ego, if her breath hadn’t hitched, if her eyes hadn’t widened, if her lips hadn’t parted so subtly.

Her mask was a flimsy veil.

I dropped my pants, and her breath caught. That blush wasn’t from embarrassment. It was arousal. Her nipples told the truth, poking against her thin shirt like they needed my mouth. Her fingers dug into the counter like it was the only thing anchoring her to earth.

My boxers went next.

She tried so hard to keep her eyes on mine.

I liked that she even fought herself almost as much as she fought me.

"Your turn,printsessa," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

“No.” Her eyes trailed down my body. I could feel them on me, working slowly down my chest to my abs and finally landing on my hard cock.

“I’m not taking off my clothes in front of you.”

I nodded, pretending to consider what she said.

“Well, we are going to get in that shower, and we are going to wash the dried blood from your skin. I will take care of you. So you can take off your fucking clothes…or I will. Your choice.”

She said nothing, but her knuckles turned white.

“Tick tock, Zoya. Do you want to do this the easy way or the fun way?”

Her jaw clenched as she looked at the ceiling, then she nodded. I didn’t know if she realized there was no way she could win this fight, or she was just too tired to try.

Either way, I won.

I leaned against the tile wall, now slick with condensation, and watched her fingers go to the buttons on her shirt. They worked slowly, fumbling over each button as she exposed more and more of her perfect body to me. When she shrugged out of the shirt, pulling the stiff, dirty fabric from where the blood had dried like glue, my breath caught.

---