After a while, he speaks again. This time his tone has changed. It’s grown dark.
“Don’t try to run away.”
I whisper, “I won’t.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
Oh, god, the s*x in his voice. The raw, hot, dirty s*x he put into those words has me hyperventilating. I can’t help it now: I start to tremble.
It does something to him. Brings out a feral animal he’s been keeping under tight control, leashed behind his tense silences and watchful eyes.
He drags me onto my side and back against his chest, pinning me there with his arms and legs, his heat and bulk all around me.
Into my ear, he says gruffly, “You know exactly what I want from you, don’t you? Or you think you know. But if you really did, you’d run as fast and as far away from me as you could, malyutka. You’d run away sc
