Page 42 of The Predator

“I swear to God…” My voice trails off when a gasp, followed by the sound of glass shattering against the floor, catches my attention. I whirl around in the chair and spot Ely standing in the doorway with a mixture of fear and shock etched into her features. The bowl of cereal in her hands now covers the floor.

Shit. I quickly hit the end button on the call. "Hey, it’s okay. Everything is okay. I won’t let anything happen.”

There's a far away look in her eyes, and I don’t like it. She starts to tremble and wraps her arms around her waist, bunching my football T-shirt up around her hips in the process. Her bare feet are covered in milk, and all I can think is I have to protect her, shield her, remove her from the situation. Needing to touch her and calm her down, I cross the room and gently take her by the arms.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

She stares up at me through a sheen of tears then takes a wobbly step back while she pulls herself from my grasp. “Don’t touch me.”

All the anger I've been trying to keep a cap on surges to the surface and spills out of me.

"Don’t touch you? That’s not what you were saying last night. You act like I’ve hurt you, like I’m the one who did something wrong, but all I’ve tried to do was protect you.”

"Protect me? You were just talking to my father about me like I’m some fucking possession.”

I turn and face the desk, grappling for control over my emotions. "No, I wasn’t. You walked in at the end of the conversation. There is no denying your father might see you as a possession to be pawned off and bartered, but you’re so much more to me. You’re my wife.My fucking wife.And I would never do such a thing."

"That’s it. That’s all I am. Not a living, breathing, human. Just an item to be transferred back and forth?" She screams at my back and when I don’t answer she continues her verbal lashing. “I don’t want to be a piece of property, Sebastian. I don’t want to bejustyour wife. I want to be me. Elyse.”

“And you are…”

“I’m not. Ever since you forced me to marry you, I’ve done only what you want. I’ve been trapped inside that bedroom.” She frowns, “Killing Yanov didn’t set me free; it put me in a different kind of cage. You say you aren’t a monster, and maybe you aren’t as bad as him, but you’re one and the same. Instead of taking control altogether like he did, you offer me the illusion of control. I don’t want either of those things. I want to be happy. I want to be me.”

Something inside me cracks. Every ounce of control I have slips away. How can she compare me to that piece of shit? That abuser? It’s the only thing I hear. The only thing I see.

Whirling around, I march over to her and grab her by the arms, pulling her into my chest. She struggles at first but softens the moment my lips press against hers. The air surrounding us crackles and pops with energy. I kiss her with every ounce of fear and pain I’ve felt for her from the moment she was kidnapped from my bed. I pour all of those emotions into her, letting her feast on them and drown in them.

When I break the kiss we’re both panting, and her eyes are wild and hazy. I’m consumed with the need to claim her.

“I’m fucking crazy for you. I’ve never felt so unhinged. I want to do right by you but every time I think I am it ends up biting me in the ass. How can I protect you? How can I save you if you won’t let me?” It kills me to know I let her down. That she suffered. That she was the one to end his pathetic life.

“I don’t want you to save me.”

“I don’t care what you want.” I growl angrily, and lift her by the arms, carrying her toward the desk. Placing her face down on the table, I force her flat against the wooden surface.

“Sebastian, you can’t…” She starts but I cut her off.

I won’t listen to her tell me what I can and can’t do for her. No matter the consequences, I will protect her from her father, even if it kills me.

"That is where you’re wrong, Little Wife. I can, and I will, do whatever it takes to protect you.” I jerk her underwear down her thighs and then kick her legs apart.

I do the same to my pants until my hard length is in my hand. She’s so tiny I have to move her legs further apart to be able to press inside her warm heat.Breathe. Calm down.I want to claim her but I don’t want to hurt her. Forcing myself to breathe slowly, I press against her entrance. She’s not nearly as wet as I want her to be, but I have no patience for foreplay at the moment.

I hear her soft, pain-filled whimper, and I know I’ll have to make up for my savage treatment of her later because I’m too crazed with need and overcome with desire to stop.

She’s driven me to this point, driven me to insanity.

Pulling out, I spit into my hand, and spread the moisture up my length. Then, even with the desire to plow into her, to punish her, and make certain she feels every bite of pain as I slide deep inside her, I don’t. Instead I gently prod her entrance and slowly slip all the way into her warm heat, stopping only once my balls rest against her ass.

Pleasure ripples through my nerve endings, and I remain seated inside of her, relishing the feeling for a long moment. Then I pull all the way out and thrust forward, deep and hard, the force of it making her gasp. I watch as she struggles to grip the edge of the desk. I’m not gentle with her, not like I have been in the past. I can’t be. Not when she provokes the predator inside me.

“This is what you do to me. You fucking consume me, Elyse. You make me insane.”

I grip her hips with bruising force and use her body as if it was made for me to take from. Her wet heat tightens around me, and I damn near come right then.

“My wife. My fucking wife.” I grit the words through my teeth while I fuck her body, hard and fast, the slap of my balls against her ass echoing through the space, right along with her whimpers which grow louder by the second but don’t hold an edge of pain to them like they did before.

"Say it, Elyse. Say you're my wife."