Alpha's Private Plaything (Elsa and Drake Stone) novel Chapter 174

Chapter 174

Elsa

My cheeks burned with humiliation because he was right–my body

was responding to him even as my mind screamed in protest. I

pushed against his chest, my palms meeting warm, damp skin. “Get

the fuck off me,” I said, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and

unwanted arousal.

He didn’t budge. Instead, his grip tightened, and he pressed closer,

the heat of his body seeping through my clothes. One of his thighs

wedged between my legs, applying pressure exactly where I didn’t

want it and exactly where my treacherous body craved it.

“Make me,” he challenged, his eyes flashing gold.

I shoved harder, desperate to escape the intoxicating proximity of his

body. My hand caught the edge of his towel, and it slipped

precariously lower on his hips. For one heart–stopping moment, I

thought it would fall completely, and my eyes betrayed me by

glancing down.

“Careful now,” he warned, amusement coloring his tone. “Unless that’s

what you were aiming for all along.”

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“You’re delusional,” I spat, finally managing to duck under his arm

and move away from the door. My legs felt unsteady, and I hated

myself for it. “I’m leaving.”

“If you walk out that door,” Drake said casually, adjusting his towel,

“you can forget about the continued treatment resources for your

mother.”

I froze, my hand on the doorknob. A cold dread spread through me,

replacing the heat that had been building moments before. My

fingers clenched so hard around the metal that my knuckles turned

white.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, not turning around, afraid he’d

see the fear in my eyes.

“I received some interesting information today,” he continued, his

voice maddeningly calm. “About a new experimental treatment for

silver poisoning. It’s showing remarkable results in early trials.”

Slowly, I turned to face him, my heart pounding for an entirely

different reason now. “What kind of results?”

“The kind that could give your mother years instead of months.” His

golden eyes watched me carefully, gauging my reaction. “But access

is… limited.”

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Of course it is, I thought bitterly, nausea rising in my throat. And let

me guess who controls that access.

“What do you want, Drake?” I asked, my voice hollow, already

knowing the answer.

He gestured to the edge of his bed. “Sit.”

Every instinct screamed at me to run, to tell him to go fuck himself,

but I couldn’t. Not when my mother’s life hung in the balance. I’d

done this dance with him before–sacrificed my dignity, my body, my

self–respect for her treatment. What was one more time in an endless

series of humiliations?

I moved woodenly to the bed and sat down, the mattress sinking

beneath my weight. My fingers dug into the expensive duvet. “Well?” I

asked, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

Drake approached slowly, like a predator stalking wounded prey. “You

know what I want, Elsa.” His voice was soft, dangerous. “I want you to

do what you’ve always done so well. Satisfy me.”

“Here?” I glanced nervously at the door, my throat tight with anxiety.

“Your family is fucking downstairs.”

“Then you’d better be quiet.” His hand cupped my cheek, tilting my

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face up to his. His thumb brushed roughly over my lower lip. “Unless

you want them to hear what a willing little Omega slut you are.”

I closed my eyes, swallowing the bitter taste of humiliation as tears

threatened. “Tell me about the treatment first.”

“After,” he insisted, his thumb pressing harder until it slipped

between my lips. “You’ll get what you want after I get what I want.

That’s how this works.”

It’s just sex, I told myself, as his towel dropped to the floor, revealing

his already hard cock. You’ve done this a thousand times before. Just

disconnect. Think about Mom. This is for her.

He roughly pushed me back onto the bed, his weight settling heavily

on top of me. His hands were everywhere at once–tearing at my

blouse until buttons scattered across the floor, yanking down my

skirt, ripping my underwear aside.

“Fuck, you’re already soaked,” he growled against my neck, his fingers

sliding between my legs to find the evidence of my body’s betrayal.

“Always ready for me, aren’t you?”

I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, trying not to make a sound as

his fingers worked inside me with practiced skill, finding that spot

that made my hips buck involuntarily. I hated myself for it–hated

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how my body remembered his touch, responded to his scent, craved

his possession despite everything he’d done to me.

“Drake,” I gasped, caught between pushing him away and pulling him

closer. “The door-”

“I don’t give a fuck about the door,” he muttered, his mouth hot on

my breast as he yanked down my bra. “I want everyone to know who

you belong to.”

He entered me with one brutal thrust, swallowing my cry with his

mouth. One hand clamped over my lips as he began to move, setting a

punishing rhythm. My nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent-

shaped marks in his skin as my body arched to meet his.

“You’re mine,” he growled in my ear, punctuating each word with a

deeper thrust. “No matter what I said downstairs, you will always be

mine.”

Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, mixing with sweat as I

fought against the pleasure building inside me. My body was a traitor,

responding to him even as my mind screamed in protest. When his

hand slipped between us to circle my clit, I had to bite down on his

palm to keep from crying out.

“Come for me,” he commanded in that Alpha voice that brooked no

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argument. “Now.”

My body obeyed instantly, clenching around him as waves of

unwanted pleasure crashed through me. He followed moments later,

his teeth grazing my neck in a mockery of a claiming bite.

As we lay there, panting and sweaty, I felt nothing but disgust–at

him, but mostly at myself. A hollow emptiness settled in my chest,

familiar and aching.

How much more of myself will I have to give away before there’s

nothing left?

I slipped into his bathroom on unsteady legs, avoiding my reflection

in the mirror as I washed my hands. I couldn’t bear to see the woman

who had just traded her body for information–again. The water

couldn’t wash away the feeling of being used, of being little more

than a transaction. I scrubbed at my skin until it was raw and red, as

if I could somehow erase his touch.

Drake followed me in, leaning against the doorframe, watching me with those unreadable golden eyes.