Page 13 of Carnal Heart
“Don’t worry, Doll. A Black Hart has found you instead.”
Zaiah gasps when I start to squeeze.
A wicked smirk spreads across my lips and my fingers tighten around his neck as soon as he recognizes my voice. He squirms under my hold, and it’s only then do I realize how fucking good his body feels against mine.
“Do you have something to say to one of my Black Harts?”
He tries to wrestle free, but I easily overpower him in strength. “Fucking let go of me,” he snarls.
I laugh, pressing my front harder against his back. With my free hand, I slide it over his flat stomach and under his pretty floral crop top.
He thrashes against me, only causing his ass to grind deliciously against my hard cock. Fucking tease. For the past two years, this man has captivated my thoughts, my dreams, and now my memories. I drag my nose against his jaw and inhale. Lemon and vanilla. Light, why did I stop following him? I should have stolen him from Remy-fucking-Lombardi.
Having him here in front of me is better than I ever could have imagined. With my other hand, I grip Zaiah’s hip and shove my groin against him, encouraging him to keep moving. “That’s it, Zaiah. Dance for me.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. My cock is hard against his ass, straining against my pants. This need to fuck my pretty doll is becoming undeniable. I’ve wanted him ever since the first day he walked into our chemistry class and sat in front of me. How many times have I fantasized about throwing him onto our chemistry lab table and taking him right there?
His pulse is beating a frantic rhythm. I’ve never been much of a dancer, but Zaiah makes me want to try new things. I kiss the back of his neck, loving the way he shivers. Toying with the hem of his crop top, I speak right into his ear so he can hear me over the loud music. “Did you design this?”
As soon as I saw the floral print and how well it hugged his body, I knew it was one of his pieces.
Zaiah freezes.
I give his ass a sharp spank, my other hand still on his throat. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” I growl.
Slowly, his hips grind in a sensual circle. My breath hitches when he places his slim fingers over mine, encouraging me to keep squeezing. The music slows, but our hips sway to a beat that only the two of us can hear.
“Tell me, Doll. Did you design this shirt?”
He nods. “Yeah. How did you know?”
Disregarding his question, I reward him for his answer instead by slipping my fingers beneath the waistband of his pants. Praeda is all about the hunt, but this particular hunt started the moment Zaiah Ruca walked through the double doors of the Science Wing. It’s time for a new game.
Zaiah hisses when my fingers dip lower. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Even though he can’t see it, I give him a wolfish grin.
There’s only one rule for Cor Night.
Be vicious with your vices.
Chapter six
Zaiah
A part of me knows I should get as far away from Devyn Shio as soon as possible, but a sinister, wicked part of me yearns for more. More of him, and more of whatever the hell this dance is between us.
My body moves against my will, taunting and teasing Devyn as I grind against his hard length. I’m absolutely floored—and oddly touched—that he knew I designed this shirt. Remy never cared to notice, but Devyn did. After our earlier encounter, it’s undeniably obvious that Devyn is my stalker, but just how well does this Black Hart know me?
Could he possibly be aware of my knowledge concerning his father’s criminal activities? I had a feeling Remy would eventually connect the dots. He has cameras set up all around his house. Though it’s been a few weeks since I left Remy, perhaps he’s finally seen the feed from the night before I left.
Remy would have seen me listening in on his call, going through his things, and taking photos. Did he report his findings to Devyn, and that’s how they met?
Devyn’s grip on my throat loosens a fraction, and I already miss the extra pressure. It kept me grounded. If he lets go now, I might fall apart.
Light, what the hell is wrong with me?
I circle my fingers around his, marveling at how much bigger his hands are compared to mine. And then I squeeze, silently begging him to not stop. To hold me to him. To stake a claim.
