Page 38 of Pretty Little Prey
Luna was no stranger to watching porn or reading dirty books, but the way Bastille gripped himself was different from what she had seen. He did not simply “pleasure” himself.
His jaw was clenched, like he was pissed off to an ungodly extent. His green eyes were narrowed and spewed hatred and anger as he stared at his hand on his large shaft.
He settled into his spot, sitting on the edge of the bed with his spine tilted back toward the mattress. The position was one of tension—not allowing him to relax or fully lay back. His left hand violently fisted the black silk bedsheet at his side.
At the first downward stroke of his right hand on his stiff cock, Bastille released a pained, guttural grunt. His eyes shut tightly, and his breath grew ragged as he proceeded to…attackhimself.
The strokes were so fast, so demanding and desperate, Luna had to hold back a whimper just from watching. His fingers were wrapped firmly around his shaft as he jerked himself. The pace—the frenzy—was so furious, his motions were a near blur. Yet, still, he did not quiver, moan, sink into the mattress, or reveal any emotion on his face other than bitter rage.
As if the action of jacking off his flushed, aching cock made him angry. As if he took no pleasure in it.
“Fucking…lamb,” he muttered under his breath, cursing as his hips gave a slight bucking motion. “Goddamn dragon…”
Lamb?Was he thinking of Luna and the dragon shifter?
Bastille was so aroused, each of his palm’s strokes emitted a slick sound of flesh meeting pre-cum. As he savagely fucked his hand, his lips parted, but no sound escaped—like he used all of his might to hold back a blissful groan.
Luna’s body clenched. Overheated. Flushed.
The room filled with his alpha pheromones from his arousal, choking her from her hidden position in the closet. How was it that, for years, Luna barely had a sex drive to worry about, but ever since she met the dragon and these predators captured her, she was constantly squirming with unadulterated desire for them?
“Uhgh,” Bastille grunted with each harsh thrust of his hips into his hand. “Uhgh.” His fingers, fisting the sheet, tightened as he jerked his hand faster. “Fucking—prey.”
His body finally fell back onto the bed, his spine meeting the soft mattress. Yet, none of his tension seeped away. He growled as he angrily stroked his throbbing cock. His free hand fell to caress his heavy balls, and Luna bit her bottom lip even harder.
Her thighs clenched together again as new wetness rushed between them. Her breasts ached for touch. Her clit pulsated with need.Damn it, I was not supposed to see this. As much as she tried to deny it, after the men had pleasured her, a part of her almost wanted to stay to see what it might be like—to stop running and live for sexual urges. To stay in one place, with them.
She held her breath as she watched him pump his shaft into his hand. Then, Bastille surprised her.
He looked right up into the mirror above his bed, and his eyes turned to hypnotic spirals.
She fell into trance but was able to blink herself awake since his gaze was not focused on her. He stared into his own eyes as he stroked. For a moment, she rolled her eyes at him, thinking he was admiring himself. But then, he spoke.
“You can feel her. Sinking onto your cock,” he told himself. Was he…hypnotizing himself while he masturbated?My Gods. Others could fantasize, but he could convince his body tofeelhis fantasy.
Such power.
“Feel her tight pussy fucking clutching you. So fucking tight. Fuck.” His breathing became ragged as he kept up his fierce jerks, the anger on his face slipping as the pleasure trickled in. “Feel her ride your cock.Seeit.”
Bastille groaned, and one of his hands lifted to a spot of air over him. The way his fingers moved… Was he imagining stroking her hair? Suddenly, he grabbed her invisible hair and twisted it over his fist, pulling it back roughly. Luna’s own head fell back as if she could feel his fantasy.
“Fuck me,” he growled to his fantasy girl. Was it her? “Fuck me, Princess. Like I know you want to.” His hips bucked up into a hard thrust—she could practically feel it between her legs. His phantom cockhead so deep inside her, it rubbed a hidden spot of pleasure she had never been able to reach on her own.
Shit. Luna’s hand sank between her legs as she watched him lose control.He is thinking of me. Her fingers circled her throbbing clit in time with his thrusts and grinds.
His thighs fell open as his stomach hollowed rhythmically from the pleasure. “I want you to come all over my cock, Princess,” he rasped to his invisible fantasy. “Will you be a good girl and do that for me?”
Fuck. She fought to swallow down her moan as her fingers sped up between her legs. If she came, would he be able to smell her? Find her in his closet? What would he do if he did?Punish me again? Just the thought pushed her closer to coming.
She was so close. She knew it from the insistent pulse on her clit and the continued contracting of her pussy around her fingers.
“Come for me. Fucking squeeze the life out of my cock before I fucking—” He began to roughly thrust into his hand with each word. “—fill—you—up.Come for me.”
She could not hold it back. Mouth agape, she cried out in pleasure as she came around her fingers for him.
Instantly, Bastille let go of his hard erection—not having come yet—and looked at his ajar closet door.
He heard me.
