He reached for her.
She flinched. Her body jerked backward. Her hands came up — palms out, shaking. The gesture of a woman trying to hold back a tide with her bare hands.
"No — stop — don't," she whispered. Her voice cracked on every word.
He pulled her.
Slowly. Deliberately. His hand closed around her wrist, and he drew her across the stone floor toward him. She fought — her legs kicking, her free hand grabbing at the rock, her body twisting. But his grip was iron, and her strength was nothing against his.
He hugged her.
His arms wrapped around her trembling body. Pressed her against his chest. His cock — still slick with Evriana's blood and cum — pressed against her stomach, hot and thick. She could feel it. Feel the veins. Feel the heat. Feel the wetness of another woman's fluids on her skin.
She trembled against him. Her long nipples pressed into his chest, the bitten, swollen peaks aching against his skin. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps.
He reached down.
