Novel & Cerita Prisoner Of My Desire Audiobook

Raising my hand, I shook my head. "I did not make any passes at her," I said jokingly, and we began to laugh. "Who are the new people with you?" I asked him, and he turned to look at how his prisoners were being handled. "The girl is free. Her name is Bianca Ash. A call girl from Dome. Please make sure she gets treated and then send her home." he said, and I raised my eyebrow a bit defensive for Tia's sake. Understanding what I meant, he shook his head immediately.

“Touch yourself.” I laid on the bed, my legs arched and wide open. I dipped my index and forefinger inside my wetness and began to thrust them inside, like I thought he would. My eyes remained glued to his, and the imagination that it was his hand in me sent my nerves dancing in response to pleasure. “Faster!” He rasped, his eyes heavy with desire. “Fuck me already.” I demanded. “As you wish, my lady.” Before I knew what was happening, he had already freed his rock-hard manhood from its covers and lunged onto the bed.

Pulling off my hoodie, I climb into bed, readjusting the pillows, muttering, “If anyone had peeked in, they would have thought I had grown humps in my sleep.” “Thash’ nice,” Beth mumbles, yanking the blanket over her head. Muttering a chosen curse word, I huddle under the blanket, allowing myself to drift off. *** It’s dark and raining. I don’t like the dark. “Taylor! Taylor!” The voice is so familiar but try as I might, I can’t get these chains off me. They’re weighing me down as the frightened voice calls out my name with a desperation that tears into me. She needs me.

I lay in bed, hand hovering over my pussy, tempted to touch but his rule echoed: That's mine now. Instead of touching myself, I replayed the day, the power he wielded, the way my body responded. Ambition had led me here, but desire was chaining me tighter. The board meeting was tomorrow, a public facade hiding the private surrender. What would he demand next? And why did the thought make my pulse race?

“Now, bring your hand lower. I want you to confirm for me what you told me earlier. Is your surrender as desperate as I need it to be to fuel this war? Are you wet for my voice, Elara?” I gasped, pressing my fingers into the soft, yielding skin of my inner thigh. The confession was humiliating, but the need was a hurricane. “Yy-es, Mr. Adrian. I am. It’s… it’s a mess of heat. And I hate you for knowing exactly how to weaponize my desire.”

It was an addictive drug, her unrestrained desire, pushing my own control to its absolute limit. I pulled away from her nipple, back to her lips. My thumb moved from her clit, and with a slow, deliberate movement, I slipped one finger inside her. She was slick and hot, her internal walls gripping my finger immediately. A sharp gasp tore from her, followed by a deeper, more sustained moan. I worked my finger slowly, feeling her clench and relax around me, every muscle in her core vibrating with need.

They wouldn't underestimate me again. "For those of you who seem a little...surprised," I began, my voice amplified by the microphone, slicing through the rising hum, "Let me assure you, this is no mistake." My gaze swept the room, lingering on a few particularly pale faces, and a few red ones (they didn't matter to me). These were the ones who thought Desiree had me collared, who thought they had me cornered, who underestimated the "stone bitch." Their shock was a delicious appetizer.

My nostrils flare and I huff, standing from my chair. I snatch the gun from the Delta’s hip and cock it, aiming it at the prisoner’s head. He pushes his head up, forehead connecting with the barrel of the gun. “What does the Rogue King want from me?” I spit the words out. The prisoner stares at me, his yellow eyes flickering with both delight and dread. “You…are not ready…to see…his…divine plan…” The prisoner coughs and blood sprays from his fucked up mouth, splattering across my face. I don’t flinch, though, and keep my hardened gaze on him.

“Years without touching you. Without feeling you. Without hearing you moan my name.” I sobbed, repeating desperately: “I don’t want this… please… I don’t know you…” But my body betrayed me in the most shameful way. A forbidden heat spread across my skin with every touch. My nipples hardened painfully. A wet, insistent throb grew between my legs. Even while my mind screamed in panic and guilt, something deep inside me—something primitive, forgotten—craved more. Craved his weight. Craved the possessive brutality of his hands. What the hell is wrong with me? I thought, guilt choking me. How can I feel desire for the man who kidnapped me?