Prison Princess (Paranormal Prison) - CoraLee June Page 0,29

will bleed from your eyes.” Hill’s voice whisper-shouted in my ear as he pressed me into the wall from behind. “And stop pretending that you don’t want this. Stop pretending that you don’t dream of it and won’t beg me for it.”

I shivered, fear becoming a palpable entity in the hallway with me. Why did he always think that? What was I doing to give him the impression that I did? I didn’t even make eye contact with him anymore when I had to see him. I stared at my feet.

“P-please.” I begged quietly. “Don’t do this.”

“Layne,” a gentle shake woke me from my memory, and I swiped at my tears. Damn it. Another memory. Why were they assaulting me in sleep? And why did I have to keep being vulnerable in front of Cypress? I rolled away from him onto the dirt. We couldn’t have been asleep very long.

“Sorry,” I tucked my feet against me. Sleeping against him was a bad idea. He noticed too much of what was going on with me that way. “I’m bad for your rest. Go back to sleep. I’m fine.”

I wished that dream had been the first time I’d thought of that. But the pain spell I’d been hit with had brought up those memories, too. Those and others. It was such a trigger.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cypress asked.

“Not really. You probably understand better than most,” I admitted.

“Understand what?”

“That sometimes our past comes up to haunt us.” He nodded, and his eyes softened. His tenderness washed over my skin like the moonlight bathing us in its glow.

It felt really good to feel understood. “Can you distract me, Cypress?” I asked, feeling ridiculous and tired and desperate for more of his touch. In my vulnerable state of mind, I knew that this was just the ammunition he needed to lash out and remind me that I was nothing to him.

But instead, Cypress surprised me. “Everything is about to change for you, Princess.” He tucked my green hair behind my ear, then ran his fingers over my neck and shoulder. “You’re going to move forward, past Nightmare Penitentiary, past Bhaltair. Past...me.”

Cypress leaned closer and dragged his lips across my neck with a feather-light touch. I trembled at the contact. “For tonight, it’s just us and the moon, Princess.”

I couldn’t tell if he was going to give in and kiss me. I waited patiently as he teased my skin with his lips, barely touching me while commanding my senses with the lightest brush. My pulse pounded, traveling all the way from my heart to between my thighs.

And he edged closer and closer, testing the boundaries of my shirt and easing his hand over my cleavage. Our bodies shifted closer together, and there was a palpable heat sizzling between us. “Are you going to demand that I kiss you again?” Cypress asked, his voice husky.

“No,” I rasped. “I’m just going to take it.”

Leaning forward to close the remaining distance between us, I captured his mouth with my own and tugged at his bottom lip with my sharp teeth. His hands roamed every bit of my body, lingering and kneading the tender flesh of my breasts before sinking to my stomach.

I parted my thighs, and his fingers cautiously slipped up the shirt he’d let me borrow as I roamed the expanse of his back with my seeking hands. Cypress was like a wall of muscle. I’d never seen anyone like him anywhere. Not that I’d been that many places. But it was as though he could carry the burdens of the world on his shoulders and still ask for more.

He stopped at my breast, cupping it in his hand. The motion stirred warmth inside of me that was somehow strange, wonderful, and uncomfortable, all at the same time. I squirmed, and he smiled at me. “This is all new to you, and I’m not sure how that can even be. Someone like you has no business being touched by someone like me.”

That was a problem. He was thinking of me as royalty. That was so far from what I was in my soul. I kissed his chin. I could tell him stories about the first time I saw people having sex. I’d been six. But I was going to keep that to myself and concentrate on him. I wasn’t breakable.

The moon bathed our skin, almost as though it sanctified us, which was ridiculous. Those sorts of things didn’t happen for me or, it would seem,