Sucking in a lungful of cool air, I head for the highlighter-yellow Lamborghini. I can’t help but smile as I trail my hand along the hood. This must be Xander’s.
The sound of the elevator going back up has my stomach rolling. My pulse thunders against my pressure points. How the hell do they know I’m down here already? Glancing around, I scout for a good place to hide, but the garage is a massive square. And to make it worse, the entire room is lit by bright fluorescent lighting. Could I have picked a worse place to run to?
With my blood thundering in my ears and my legs propelled by fear and adrenaline, I jog over to the line of cars farthest from the elevator and crouch behind the one at the very back. I lock my eyes on the shiny silver doors, my heart fluttering in my throat while I wait for them to open. The elevator only has three stops: the penthouse, the lobby, and here. A red L appears in the small window above the elevator, and I swallow a thick knot of fear and excitement.
He’s almost here.
I tell myself that it might just be Xander coming down here to hide with me, but my body trembles and fear becomes my dominant emotion.
The elevator pings.
My heart hammers uncontrollably.
The doors open.
Blood screams in my ears.
Zeke steps out with a wicked smile on his face.
I almost fall on my ass.
“I know you’re in here, buttercup,” he sing-songs, and it’s one of the most frightening sounds I’ve ever heard in my life. Do I want to play this game to its end?
Marshmallow. That’s all I need to say, and this will all be over.
So, why don’t I say it? Why do I stay right here with my lips pressed tightly shut and my hand over my mouth, waiting for Zeke to find me?
Chapter
Thirty-Three
ZEKE
I know she’s down here. I can fucking smell her. Her fear. Her arousal. I lick my lips and taste her in the air.
I step further into the brightly lit garage, seeking a glimpse of her. “Come out and I might make it easier on you.”
Silence.
She’s good at this. The first time I hunted Xander, he gave himself up because he couldn’t stand the terror of waiting for me to find him. He said it was better to face the consequences than think about what they might be.
My fingers curl around the worn leather of my switchblade. I never would have gotten it from my room if I’d known I’d be chasing Lily instead of Xander. But now I have it, and she’s in here somewhere. Pure adrenaline thunders through my veins, making my cock throb as well as my temples. There’s no stopping this thing now. Not unless she says her safe word.
Walking along the center of the garage, I glance up and down the rows of cars. “Where are you, buttercup?” I tilt my head, straining to hear some sound from her. Her breathing or maybe a movement, but there’s not a peep. She really is good at this. I pass by the silver Porsche and smile. But not good enough. Part of her sneaker is reflected in the rim of the 911 Turbo.
My heart rate slows, and I close my eyes for a second, savoring the moment before I let her know she’s beat. My chest tightens and my balls draw up as I round the black SUV she’s crouching behind. I figure I have one more second until she realizes I’m onto her and runs. I want her to run. I want her to fight too.
I take a few steps closer, and she bolts, darting out from between the cars so fast she’s practically a blur. But I was anticipating her every move, and she’s nowhere near quick enough to escape me. She’s racing toward the elevator when I tackle her and throw her against the hood of the Bugatti. She lands with a thud and lets out a yelp, but I cut the sound short with my hand around her throat. “Gotcha, buttercup.”
Pushing her back, I wedge myself between her thighs. With both hands, she shoves at my chest. I don’t budge. A heady mix of excitement, pure animal lust, and the triumph of victory pumps through my veins. I feel fucking invincible right now. A truck couldn’t move me from between her legs. Only one thing has that power, and I glare at her, daring her to say it.
“Fuck you!” She spits out the words, her eyes dark and full of anger-tinged desire.
“No.” I fist my hand in the front of her dress and pull hard, tearing it down the middle and exposing her panties and bare tits. “But I am gonna fuck you.”
“The fuck you will,” she screeches, lashing out with her arms and legs and scratching my lip in the process. It stings, and I dart out my tongue and taste blood.
“Oh, Lily, you’re going to regret that.” Widening my stance so her legs are spread so far apart that she has no leverage to kick, I tighten my grip on her throat and slam her head back, pinning her to the car with brute strength.
Her hands curl into talons and she lashes out again. Before she makes contact, I grab both her wrists with one hand and pull a pair of cuffs from my back pocket with the other. I snap them open, and her eyes go wide.
“This ain’t my first rodeo, buttercup. You think I wouldn’t stop off and get a few little surprises for you? Like I told you upstairs, I love it when you fight.” I pull her up and pin her wrists behind her back with ease before slapping the cuffs on her. She struggles throughout, screaming at me to stop as I push her back against the hood, crushing her arms under her. Now she’s trapped and completely at my mercy.
“No! Stop!” she protests, her head whipping from side to side.
I adjust my grip on her throat so I can hold her head still. “You will fucking look at me when I fuck you, Lily.”
She hisses like a feral kitten. “You’re a fucking animal.”
My cock leaks in my pants. I knew she’d fight a little, it’s only natural, but this is way more than that. This goes a whole lot deeper than the innate human reaction to danger.
“Yes, I fucking am, buttercup.” I tug her panties aside, tearing a hole in the fabric. “And you have no fucking idea how hard it makes me to see you like this.”
I slide my finger through her wet folds and bite down on my lip so hard I draw blood when I feel how wet she is. “Oh you want my cock, don’t you, my little baby doll?”
She gnashes her teeth at me, and my laugh only makes her fight harder. “I fucking hate you,” she screams, her voice hoarse.
I slip one finger inside her. “You hate that too?”
She responds with an animalistic snarl, but her back arches off the car, telling me everything I need to know. I add a second finger. “How about that?”
“Fuck! You!” The words echo off the concrete walls of the garage and send searing hot pleasure down my spine.
Adding a third finger, I curl them upward and brush her G-spot. Muttered curses fall from her lips, like she’s too far gone to scream at me. Despite what she says, she’s painting the hood of the Bugatti with her sweet fucking cum. Squeezing her slender throat, I work her hard, and soon she’s trembling for me. Her orgasm is so close I can smell it.
That’s when I stop and slide my fingers out of her. Her body sags and she gasps for air.