Mya
For all Raoul'sintensity that first day, he toned it down a notch for the rest of the week after he humped against me like a wild beast and forced an orgasm out of me, bringing me to the brink of total meltdown.
Although he backed off his, his blazing eyes are no less intense, but he leaves me every day to go do whatever it is tiger kings do, and when he returns home every night, he speaks a few cordial words to me before climbing into the bed and gathering me to his chest. He bands those arms and legs around me, effectively caging me in. I'd be lying if I said that his big body behind mine hasn't become comforting. I think I'm getting the best night's sleep I've ever had.
I should be worried about my rent, my job, and everything that I have waiting for me in my life back home, but I’m not. Keeping my wits about me in this strange place keeps me preoccupied.
It’s strangely freeing to not have to worry about my bills and all of that.
Instead, I worry about when Raoul is going to make a move on me again and make my body betray me. He hasn't done more than hold me and kiss my forehead or the side of my neck since that first day, and I’m a confusing mix of relieved and disappointed at that.
I've given up on the thought of escape for now because I'm always locked in here. While Raoul’s gone, the only person who ever comes in here other than him is Liza, the snarky tigress who obviously loathes me, there's no help there.
Now, I'm just biding my time. When I'm in this room alone all day, I read some of the books that Raoul has on a little shelf in the corner of the room. There's no TV or modern technology, no way for me to make contact with the outside world.
If I'm being totally honest, I don't have anyone to contact anyway other than the police maybe, but how much help would they really be? Our human police force is notorious for backing down when it comes to enforcing anything with shifters. They don't want to get involved with them because they know the shifters are way stronger than them and that it's a pointless fight. I certainly don't think they would stick their necks out on the line for insignificant little old me.
Besides, oddly enough, I'm falling into a kind of routine. Raoul gets up and leaves, and I take my time soaking in his luxurious bath, pampering my skin more than I ever have in my entire life. I brush my curls until they shine. There’s a whole closet full of clothing stocked for me. It still trips me out when I walk into his huge walk-in closet and see a whole side of it dedicated to me. It's obvious Raoul really thinks I'm his mate. If I didn't already know how serious he was about that claim, then seeing the mountains of clothes he had brought in and packed into the closet next to his is more than enough proof Raoul doesn't intend on ever letting me go.
That doesn’t feel me with quite as much panic as it used to, and I'm seriously thinking that when I do get out of here, I'm going to need lots and lots of psychological therapy. I definitely need to have my brain checked to make sure that I'm normal because something's not right. I should be panicking more than I am right now. In fact, I'm actually becoming comfortable in his opulent space—and maybe that's all it is. As a girl who grew up with hardly anything, maybe it's just the comfort of his luxury suite that's charming me into complacency. And maybe that was his plan all along—to charm his victims into complacency with all of these creature comforts, and then he'll make his move.
My heart hammers wildly in my chest when I remember the way he snarled as he shot his seed all over my stomach, and I can't help imagining how it would feel to feel that hot liquid spurting up inside me.
My cheeks flame as I think about it, and I feel a throbbing between my legs. I clench my legs together, trying to ease the ache, but it doesn't help. I bite my lip and consider. I've never been one of those girls who could make herself come. Sure, I’ve tried to touch myself before, but I never could reach that pinnacle, but now I know what it feels like. Now I know what to look for after what Raoul did to me, so maybe I can achieve it on my own?
I slip my hand up under the little sundress I'm wearing. Raoul seems to prefer his mate to wear dresses because that's practically all he stocked the closet with. I don't know if it's because he just likes the way I look in dresses or if it's because he theoretically wants to have easy access to me in case he does decide to make good on his threat and make me his mate ineveryway.
Regardless of the reason, I have to admit that I like the way the material feels flowing down over my skin. I slip my hand into the band of my panties. My face flushes again as I think of how even my undergarments are now provided by Raoul. I wonder if he picked them out himself. The lacy options make me think either he did choose them himself or he instructed someone what he wanted bought.
My tiger seems to prefer his women in lace undergarments and pretty little dresses.
I still when I realized I just thought of Raoul asmytiger. I scowl, but it doesn't stop the insistent throbbing between my legs, so with a frustrated groan, I continue to slip my fingers in between my legs until I find that little bundle of nerves that sends tingles shooting throughout my entire frame when I press on it.
I can't hold in the little moan that escapes me as I begin to rub it in circles, imagining that it's Raoul's hard length pressing against me, humping against me. I recall the way his body felt that day, and I remember his feral grunts and groans, his intoxicating smell.
My breathing becomes shallower as I rub harder and faster. I feel that pressure within me building, and just as I feel like I'm on the precipice of coming, I whisper his name, “Raoul.”
Suddenly, my hand is yanked from between my legs, and both of my hands are pinned above my head. My wrists are banded between two big paws. My eyes fly open, and my flush only deepens when I see Raoul’s golden eyes blazing down into me. His chest is heaving up and down as he growls at me, “Do you know what it does to me to walk in here and see you touching your pretty little pussy while moaning out my name?”
I don’t have a chance to answer before he smashes his lips down onto mine. Oh god, I must have been so deep into what I was doing that I didn't hear him come in. but my flush of mortification quickly fades into nothingness whenever his lips claim mine so ferociously. He kisses me so fiercely that my brain short circuits and I forget to feel embarrassment or anything. I can't think at all. All I can do is gyrate my hips against his as he humps me. I whimper. Ineedto come.
Raoul finally pulls his lips back from mine. When they're just a hair's breadth from mine, he whispers, “Your pleasure is mine. If you need to come, you tellmeandIwill do it.”
Something about the way he says that so adamantly, like he's berating me for seeking my own pleasure, causes fire to lick throughout my veins.
“Does my little kitten need to come?” Raoul purrs down at me knowingly.
I'm beyond the point of shyness or coyness. I hear myself shamelessly tell him, “Yes.”
He stops pumping me and starts moving off of me. I let out a whimper of protest, my eyes flying open.
“Relax, Mya. I’m going to give you what you need,” he assures me. He strokes a hand over my stomach as he crawls in between my legs.
My brow is furrowed when he settles in between my thighs and pulls my panties to the side. He looks up at me wickedly before he kisses me downthere. It's an open-mouth kiss, and the feeling of his tongue sliding over my sensitive flesh has me arching up into him and fisting his hair.
I can't believe he's doing this, but I'm powerless to stop him. He holds me still with his hands on either side of my hips as he feasts on me. He brings me closer and closer to the edge before backing off and then building it all back up over again. I'm writhing and panting and begging and sobbing, “Please, Raoul, please.”
“Who do you belong to?” Raoul prompts me.