Running from hell isnʼt easy. Especially when thereʼs someone dragging you back down into it.
Belligerent, brash and always in shades of black, Freya is hardly a lady. Hidden away by her father, sheʼs lived a normal life despite being born into the...
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I DON’T GET SLEEP during storms. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. But somehow, despite the raging storm outside, I’d fallen asleep.
Only for a few hours, though.
I wake while it’s still dark, sensing that the sheets are missing from the bed. That’s when I become aware of the weight at the other end of the bed.
I fondle for my phone and tap the screen. Light illuminates Freya’s frame — the little heathen is curled into a ball at the other end of the bed.
And she’s pulled the entire fucking sheet around her body.
I only have myself to blame for this fucking mess. I never should’ve brought her to my bed. But I heard her scream in her sleep — her voice raw and full of pain, and when I walked past her room, she looked . . . devastated.
I don’t know why it pissed me off so much. Or why I didn’t just leave her there. She would’ve deserved it for plotting with her father behind my back.
Frowning down at her in the dark, I try wrenching the sheets back, but they’re wrapped around her like seaweed on fuckin’ sushi.
I grit my teeth. Brat.
As if she can hear my thoughts, Freya lets out a small, satisfied purr and rolls closer to my side, now on her stomach. I stiffen, my phone nearly falling out of my hands.
Then, as if that isn’t enough for her, her little human ball explodes, and her arm and leg are on top of me.
Every muscle in my body draws taut, blood surging through my veins.
The brat’s stretched out over me like a fucking spider.
Her arm is soft and cool on my torso, her leg inches away from my cock.
I try tearing away her ligaments, but they’re as stubborn as she is. If I were to tug any harder I might really fuck something up.
And strangely enough, the thought of her detached limbs isn’t as appealing as it should be.
I give up, growling as my skin grows hot.
She hasn’t tied her hair back. The reddish-brown strands of her hair fan around her face, falling off her shoulders and brushing against my chest.
I wonder how all that hair would feel wrapped around my hand. And then the image fills my mind — licking up the side of her throat while I fuck deep and hard into her from behind.
I clench my jaw, shutting down the idea as quick as it came.
I won’t go there.
As much as I enjoy watching her squirm when I fuck with her, I won’t take it further than meaningless teasing.
Business and pleasure are separate, and Freya Morozov is strictly business.
I like to think I practice restraint, but she’s really fucking testing me.
