Prey (The Hunt Book 2)

by Liz Meldon

  She truly was exquisite. Severus had battled the allure, the painful pull toward her, hoping his leering and sneering would send her in the opposite direction. He had sought to spare her the creature who truly desired her. But she had ignored his warnings. She’d met the eye of the demon, stared into his truest self, and hadn’t even flinched.

  So be it, sweet Moira. Let her have the demon.

  He took her mouth with all the savagery she deserved, his cock stirring at her long, low moan as she slid onto her tiptoes, eyelashes fluttering up at him. In a frenzy of tongue and teeth, of swollen lips and wandering hands, he kissed her with everything he had held back from the first moment he saw her. No holds barred. Lay it all on the table. His hand tightened, feeling the delicate structure of her windpipe, and still she kissed him back. Angrily. Fiercely, as if not willing to be cowed by his venom.

  Thin, nimble fingers clutched at his shirt, her tongue shy as his thrust into the sweet darkness of her parted lips. Not once did her eyes close—but neither did his, the eternal blackness boring into her ethereal blues. They didn’t quake. No fear, no regret. He saw in them a forbidden desire, surging when her hips nudged against his. A growl reverberated in his chest, and he swore those damn blues smiled.

  Because if they didn’t, her mouth did. So, Severus pushed back, pinning her against the door, those bright blues widening slightly at the feel of his need. He ground his hips, driving his cock against her as he dragged his mouth from hers, catching her lower lip with his teeth. She shuddered, retreating somewhat, and he rubbed against her again—harder this time, watching, relishing her response.

  She did feel pleasure, the lying chit. He probably could have held her here, one hand on her throat and the other up her skirt, and made her scream ten times over. How terribly sad that no blundering human male had made her come before—even sadder still that she hadn’t the faintest idea how to do it herself.

  This wasn’t a punishment, unleashing the demon upon her—this was a gift.

  Keeping his features hard, mouth set in a thin line, he smoothed his hand along her neck and wrapped the end of her braid around his fingers—then pulled, hard. Moira gasped, head shooting up, neck utterly exposed. Grinning, though only because she couldn’t see him, he trailed his nose down the column of her throat, inhaling her, burning her scent into his brain so that he could have her long after she fled. Her fingers curled around his shirt, twisting the white cotton. He responded by dragging his tongue from the hollow of her neck to the tip of her chin, nipping at it for good measure.

  Her shudder. A sigh like silk, a quiver that shot straight to his cock. He wanted to make her do it over and over again until she couldn’t stand it.

  Severus kissed her instead, claiming her mouth once more as harshly as he dared, the hand on the back of her head steering her straight to him. And, once more, she took it, every ounce of it, her hands racing up his chest and gripping the crisp collar of his shirt. His teeth scrapped her lower lip when she ripped the shirt open, buttons cascading to the floor, her nails raking down his bare chest. Before long she had a leg hooked around his waist, skirt hitched up, thigh exposed, and it would have been so easy to drop to his knees right now and taste her. So easy—and so damn right.

  But that wasn’t the plan.

  Instead, he gathered both her hands in one of his, pinching them together at the wrists, kissing her deeper, grinding harder, driving her into a frenzied distraction so that she wouldn’t realize what he’d done until he’d done it.

  Moira tore herself away at last, gasping for air, head turned to the side. He caught the drum of her heart, beating, beating, beating beneath the flesh of her neck.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered, facing him again, their foreheads resting together. He noticed her swallow hard, lips parting slightly as she stared into his black abyss. “I know what you’re doing, and I’m not.”

  “Not yet.” Severus tugged the bowline knot he’d just tied tight, binding her wrists together with his checkered tie. Immediately she stilled, her wide eyes shooting to her bound hands.

  “W-what are you doing?”

  “A perfect knot—one-handed,” he purred back, withdrawing and tugging the tail end sharply. She jerked forward, a puppet at the end of his string, her cheeks blazing. He stood back, watching her wriggle about, fingers trying to slip under the fabric, hands desperate to separate. Little did she realize that the harder she squirmed, the tighter the noose. Severus could undo it in a pinch, by tugging the appropriate section or merely ripping it in half, but he much preferred to watch her panic.

  “Severus.”

  “Oh, hush.” His inner demon was positively beside himself, delighting in her indignation—and not missing the way her legs had snapped together, as if fighting off a surge of desire. Hell, he could smell her from there. No point in hiding it.

  Gripping the tie, he marched her across the long, narrow room, then shoved her onto his bed, his hand on her hip. Down she went. Up her skirt flew. She rolled, trying to wriggle free from his grasp, but Severus put an end to that in a snap. Hopping onto the king-sized behemoth, he prowled to the head of the bed, then looped the tie around one of the wood bars of his headboard. Moira squealed, dragged right alongside him before being trapped in place. Once he had her secure, he sat back on his heels and clapped his hands together, the noise making her flinch.

  “You look far too pleased with yourself,” she stated, her voice adopting a rather low, almost husky quality. Severus gritted his teeth; like his cock needed to get any harder.

  “It’s difficult not to be,” he told her, eyes raking across her helpless body. “You make a pretty captive.”

  “Untie me.”

  “No.” Instead, he went for the waist of her slightly too-tight skirt—and unceremoniously shred the thing in two. His name flew from her lips, half scolding, half crying out. Unfazed, he spread the fabric open, like two butterfly wings on either side of her. Black satin panties greeted him, and a quick look at Moira showed her cheeks on fire and her eyes clenched shut. Before he could make quick work of the final barrier, she managed to roll over, the tether between her and the headboard shortening.

  Severus tsked. Like he couldn’t rip that flimsy bit of fabric off from this angle too. He watched, head cocked to one side, as she tried to push up onto her knees, grunting softly. The demon grinned.

  “Thank you,” he murmured. She’d made it much easier for him to peel the satin off with her hips lifted—and that was precisely what he did. With a finger hooked under either side, he yanked the material down her hips. Silly thing realized what he was doing too late, her hips pressed flat to his bed again, but it didn’t matter; her panties were already down around her thighs. Might as well submit to the rest.

  When she wouldn’t loosen her locked thighs, Severus helped himself to her perfect, pert little ass, sinking his teeth into her right cheek just deep enough to make her squeal. Like he’d pressed the magic button, her legs flailed, and he was able to slide that damp black satin off without a single tear. Moira lifted her head as the bed creaked, her eyes narrowing when she spied him hanging her panties from the corner of the headboard like a trophy.

  “Severus.”

  “You know, saying my name only makes it worse,” he told her, swooping down to meet her gaze, his head resting on the bed beside her. Her cheeks sunk in momentarily, as if she was biting them, and he noticed her swallow hard. Good. A bit of fear, a bit of pain and pleasure, never hurt anyone.

  Still, he couldn’t stop himself from offering her one last out. The demon fought him, his throat tight as he said it, but this was Moira tied to his bed, helpless. “You know what you need to say to end it.”

  Her eyes narrowed again, glaring, and he returned the look with a smug grin.

  “Come on,” he cooed, walking his fingers up her back, over the thin material of her chiffon blouse. “Say it. Do it. I dare you.”

  When she turned her head from him, still scowling, he grabbed he
r braid again and yanked it back, her surprised gasp making the demon purr.

  “No?” He wrenched her head back a little further, handling her as he hadn’t ever dared handle a lover. No demon had gone to bed with him. Humans would break under the same pressure, but Moira merely winced, the strain evident in her neck, her eyes—and still she said nothing. Severus chuckled, then licked the shell of her ear and whispered, “Good girl.”

  She shuddered as he released her, thighs clenched tight together again—her smell intoxicating. Crawling down to the end of the bed, he positioned himself at her feet, then grabbed her knees and flipped her over with ease. Then, just for good measure, Severus took her by the ankles and pulled her down as far as the tie would allow, her arms stretched taut overhead. Hunger hummed through every fibre of his being. Hunger for her, for the way she would feel wrapped around him.

  And not for a second did he hunger for what she could give him in return. With Moira, he didn’t crave the life essence—he only craved her.

  Smirking, he took those creamy white ankles, bony, her toenails painted pink, and wrenched them apart. Naturally, the rest of her legs followed, and she fought him with a barely contained huff, wriggling against both her restraints and him. Severus held her there for a moment, legs splayed and lifted, pretty little cunt open to him—his eyes fixed on her face. So determined to break free, so focused. He could watch her all day.

  But he wouldn’t. He’d burst before that happened. So, he nipped at her instep, holding tighter when she tried to draw her legs back, then ran his teeth along her Achilles tendon. Before long, he had her legs tossed haphazardly over his shoulders, and the look in her eye—the resignation, that there was no recovering now—was worth every insult she’d hurled at him earlier. In fact, that little episode was a thing of the past. Off his radar. Forgotten. As was the angel, their mission—everything. Severus couldn’t tear himself from Moira, from the way her thighs quivered, the way she wiggled about when he licked and nibbled the underside of her knees.

  She whimpered his name just as he trailed his tongue along the delicate flesh of her inner left thigh, her arousal so overwhelming that it was a wonder he heard her at all. Still, he paused, glancing over the crest of her sex with an arched black eyebrow. Her chest rose and fell in uneven beats, her fingers no longer fighting the restraints, and he thought it a pity he hadn’t torn off that damn blouse too.

  But then again, her nipples would have been far too distracting, too fun to torment.

  “Yes?”

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, lips barely parted, her eyes heavy-lidded and her cunt dripping. The question was rhetorical, surely, yet he couldn’t help but respond to the naivety in her tone, the innocence in her voice.

  “Why, what do you think I’m doing?” He nudged her legs off his shoulders, then sat up briefly to get rid of his meddlesome shirt. Even if he didn’t get anything from her, he wanted as much skin-to-skin contact as possible.

  “You… You…”

  He clucked his tongue at her, scolding, and then settled between her thighs again. This time her legs went over his shoulders easily, limp, but her toes curled.

  “Moira, don’t be like that,” he chastised, pinching her inner thigh. A cry caught in her throat, so he did it again. Another delicious sound to add to his memory bank. “You practically begged me for this… So, here I am—trying.”

  He flashed her a sordid smile, and she clenched her eyes shut, head falling back on the bed. His tongue swept across his bottom lip as he studied her—the delicateness of her swollen lips, arousal leaking through them. He couldn’t recall if she’d had hair the last time, but up close, he realized she did. Light, thin, short, faint hair.

  “Consider this a lesson learned, darling,” he growled, settling down and eyeing what he truly wanted. He repositioned his hands, using them to spread her open for his greedy mouth. She stiffened, her breath catching, and he let out a dark chuckle. “Be careful what you wish for…”

  She gave a shout when he finally dragged his tongue between her slick folds, his name sounding desperate and tortured, her hips arching to meet him. Sweet Hell below she tasted fucking divine. Severus growled, his entire body igniting as she overwhelmed him—touch, taste, smell, sounds. Why hadn’t he done this sooner? Why the hell had he walked around like a fucking martyr when he could have given in and done this every day?

  He groaned, tongue swirling around her clit, her body twitching and shaking and writhing beneath him. His hands cupped her ass, squeezing, and then lifted her up so he could taste her deeper—so Severus could properly devour her. He showed no mercy, no signs of slowing, as he worked that sensitive little bud over, honing just the way she liked it by how desperate a cry she made. Above, Moira tugged at her restraints, cheeks flushed—a vision of a woman possessed. His mouth quirked at the sight, cock straining against his trousers.

  Pushing up onto his knees, Severus lifted her off the bed, her weight like nothing in his hands, and let the demon truly taste her. His tongue thrust deep into her trembling body, over and over again as he nuzzled her clit. He could eat her all day, all night—if Severus could survive on Moira alone, he would have. He’d forsake all others just to taste her sweet, sweet nectar from night until noon—provided she sang for him as desperately as she did now. Thankfully, they were the only ones home; Alaric might think he was killing someone up here.

  And that, in itself, was quite the compliment.

  “Oh, fuck!” she wailed, the headboard resisting each tug she made. A product of Hell, it was built of stronger stuff than most of the furniture around.

  “Such awful language,” he scolded, slipping two fingers into her before latching onto her clit again. Her legs fought him, rebelling at last, trying to squirm out of his grasp. Severus held firm, memorizing the expression of blissful agony etched across her beautiful face as he fucked her with his fingers and tormented her with his tongue.

  That is, until she locked her ankles and squeezed him with her thighs—hard. His pace faltered, the buildup breaking, and he noticed her tense body relax somewhat in his absence. Scowling, Severus twisted himself out of her leglock, then hoisted her legs up, an arm under her knees, and spanked her as hard as he dared. The sound carried through the thick stillness around them. Satisfying. Moira yelped, flinching away from him, her mouth open—and perfect for filling. She’d deserve it, after all, to be tied up and used to find his pleasure, not hers.

  Not today. That wasn’t the point of today.

  “You behave yourself,” he ordered, wrenching her legs apart, “or I’ll tie your ankles to the bedposts and really let you have it.”

  She closed her eyes tight again, whimpering, and let her head fall back on his pillow. “It’s too much. It’s too much. I c-can’t—”

  He chuckled coolly. “Dear girl, you’ve hardly had enough.”

  Severus drove two fingers back into her slickness, debating whether or not to add a third as she fought her restraints again. He threw one leg over his shoulder as he leaned down and smothered her clit, employing every tactic in the book to make her squeal. His tongue had long abandoned mercy. Hard. Soft. A flicker—barely there, featherlight and torturous. Meanwhile, he stroked her inner walls, his pace relentless and his stamina boundless. Slowly, with her blouse bunched up beneath her breasts, her body started to clench around him. He kept her other leg pinned to the bed, her quim ripe for his very own picking as he plundered it.

  “S-Severus,” she whimpered, pushing against his shoulder with her thigh—more insistently now. “Severus, stop. Please, please, stop!”

  He glanced up with a huff, then lifted his mouth from her and glared. She said it again, and that earned her his hand cuffed around her chin, forcing it down to meet his stare.

  “What?” he growled, noticing the wet smears of her own arousal his fingers left on her cheeks. He nearly slipped them between her gently parted lips, but thought better of the distraction.

  “It’s… It’s too much,”
she told him again, her eyes watery and cheeks flushed. Scoffing, he brought his hand back to her thighs, then slowly massaged her outer lips, occasionally slipping back in to stroke the inner ones. All the while her body trembled and tightened beneath him.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Uh, no,” she said, her cheeks growing redder. She cleared her throat, floundering. “It’s just…overwhelming. Maybe we should, uhm, take a break, or…?”

  He pressed his lips together, wanting to laugh but knowing he shouldn’t. If what she had said about never climaxing before was true, then he supposed it would be rather overwhelming. Good.

  “But you aren’t in pain?”

  “My wrists hurt a bit.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about your wrists, Moira.” He grinned down at her shocked expression, one that soon burned dark, riddled with pleasure as he slipped his fingers back inside her. “Buckle up, sweetheart. Today’s the day you finally come.”

  “Severus—” She bit her lip, a moan trapped in her throat, when he lowered his mouth to her clit again. She had to be close. So, Severus threw in everything he had to get her there. As she thrashed about, her traitorous hips ground against his hand, his mouth, her words quickly incoherent. He had an end goal in mind, but Severus took his time riling her up and letting her fall, making her realize how foolhardy it was to stop when she was nearly there—that she needed to push herself, to careen headlong into the darkness, not retreat from it.

  She finally broke with a wordless cry, her eyes shut and her mouth open. She was a fucking vision, and Severus was torn between watching, her back arched and her arms perfectly restrained, and burying his tongue inside her to feel the quakes of her first climax. In the end, he did both, first admiring her, burning that image of her ecstasy into his mind forever, then replacing his fingers with his tongue. She tasted even sweeter when she came, and Severus greedily lapped up every drop, prolonging her blissful torment as best he could.

  When her body finally sagged, her climax lasting a good minute—which he could only imagine felt like an eternity for his little hybrid—Severus eased away from her. He arranged her legs on the bed, adding a slight bend at the knee while she gasped for air. Severus then sat back and ran a hand through his hair. Her taste lingered on his tongue, and he licked his lips, staring down at her, knowing only one thing was certain.