Prey Drive by Jen Stevens
Chapter 27
the wolf
through her lips when my hand snakes around her hip and tugs her flush against me. She's pissed me off by refusing to face me through this entire exchange. I rest my chin on her shoulder and meet those dark brown eyes in the mirror, making sure to line my mouth up perfectly against her ear.
“You loved having a strange man come for you in the dead of night. To make you scream like no other man has before.”
“Bash…” She shivers against me, but shakes her head soberly. “No. You're clearly unhinged.”
I smirk at that. “Am I?”
Maybe I am. This whole thing has seemed so fucked up since the beginning, yet when I'm with her—against her—it feels so right. Even now, standing in a public women's bathroom where anyone could find us together, I feel a high I've never felt before.
Not even when I kill.
That's got to mean something. Right?
Or am I just completely fucked up, moving from one criminal addiction to the next?
Killing. Stalking. Sexually assaulting, as she says. Though I'd never touch a woman without some form of consent. Even now, she hasn't told me to back away. In fact, her hips have begun to slowly rock against mine as my lips trail up and down her neck in featherlight kisses.
“Yes,” she hisses, and I'm not sure if it's in response to my question or my hand snaking up her leg and hiking up the sexy, silk minidress she's wearing.
Either way, I continue. My nails graze against her inner thigh and she jerks into my chest as short, quick breaths leave her parted lips. She rests her head back on my shoulder and closes her eyes just as I push her panties over and run my fingers through her slit, spreading the slick arousal all around her swollen pussy lips.
“You're so fucking sexy. So responsive to me,” I say into her ear, and she responds with a quiet whimper.
Something slams outside of the bathroom and both of our eyes snap over to the door. My fingers pause right at her entrance as we share a look in the mirror.
I flipped the lock so no one could come in here after me, but that doesn't feel like enough protection from being caught anymore. An employee could unlock the door at any moment. I should pull my hand out of this stranger's panties and rejoin my date for dinner.
But I don't, and she makes no move to get away. Instead, she shifts her hips so my two fingers waiting at her entrance are pushed inside the slightest bit, and all my restraint disappears.
In the next breath, I'm ravaging her. My left hand works against her delectable bundle of nerves as my right hand moves upward, pinching and kneading her nipples through the soft fabric of her dress. Her neck cranes backward as I capture her mouth into a sloppy, sensual kiss.
She isn't wearing a bra. I've been staring at the perky little mounds since the moment she walked past me in the dining room with the hostess. Dreaming about how they'd feel between my fingers.
Of course, I know. I know every inch of this body; in the past few weeks, we've managed to find a fold in time where we could hide away and meld together without the external world influencing us in any way. And every moment I was forced to leave that space and re-enter society, I wished I was back there, with her. I feared things would feel different in the daylight. That the darkness was what fed into our desires, not us.
Yet here we are, somehow finding each other on the other side, and I'm just as obsessed with her as I always have been.
I want to pull every moan and sultry sigh out of her body and absorb it into my own. I want to watch her face in pure ecstasy as she shamelessly watches herself ride my hand in the mirror. To witness as she falls over the edge by my hand.
I thrust my fingers inside her and hook them forward, massaging her clit in small circles with my thumb. She begins to writhe against me, and I have to stop playing with her tits to hold her hips against me so I don't lose my grip on her. Within seconds, she's throwing her head back against my shoulder again with a loud moan that I have no doubt the entire restaurant can hear.
“That's it, baby, come for me,” I encourage into her ear.
My voice is hoarse and I'm hardly holding on to my own orgasm as she rubs her ass against my erection. I'm so fucking hard, I can barely move.
Once she's through, she turns in my arms and faces me for the first time. Her dress is completely hiked up in the back, fully exposing her round, supple ass to me in the mirror. But I don't have time to enjoy it before she's tugging at my belt. She raises her brows at me as she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and chews on it seductively.
And I want to. Holy fuck, do I want to watch her sink down on her knees and choke on my impossibly hard cock.
But I push her hands away and shake my head.
The disappointment from my rejection is immediate. Her face falls and she takes a step away, tugging her dress back down her legs. Now that there's some space between us, I can see that her cheeks are tinged pink—either from her orgasm or her embarrassment—and it brings out the yellow shades in her eyes.
“Not here,” I manage to say just as a loud knock raps against the door.
“Is someone in there?” a feminine voice calls out from the other side, and Stardust startles against me.
“What the fuck do we do?” she asks in a low, panicked tone, her eyes darting between me and the door. All the anger and embarrassment has temporarily washed away, and I can't help but feel proud that she's looking to me for answers.
My little Stardust knows exactly who her protector is.
“Unlock the door and go back to your table. I'll wait for them to be gone before I leave.”
The idea of letting her go, and hiding in the women's bathroom of some shitty chop house doesn't sound appealing to me, but the alternative of being caught is much worse. I have to get back to Mallory anyway.
Stardust nods, then adjusts herself in the mirror. The orgasm she just had is still clear across her face. Her lips are swollen from our kiss and her hair is in a disarray, but she looks as perfect as ever. My cock twitches at the idea that I did that to her.
Before she steps away, I grab her jaw and turn her back toward me.
“I'll be there tonight to finish this,” I say, both in a promise and a warning.
She stares up at me, her eyes openly roaming my features for a lingering second. I wish we could stay here, alone in this bubble. But the woman outside the door tries knocking again, interrupting our moment. She rips her gaze away and turns toward the door. It's the only confirmation I get before she's twisting the lock and I'm forced to go into a stall.