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Torian
I inch back, getting a front-row seat to the indignant flare of her eyes.
She has no idea of the trouble she’s getting into.
How deep the water is.
How easy it would be to drown.
She cocks her head, her expression bathed in liquor-induced ignorance. “Dangerous mistake?”
I would’ve bet good money on her scampering away. Even when I held back on the reins, not kissing her the way an indignant woman deserves to be kissed. But I could’ve sworn the hard press of my dick would’ve woken her up to where this is going to go if she doesn’t run.
“You heard right,” I growl. “This isn’t high school. I don’t fool around then walk away.”
“And I do?” She pushes at me, punctuating her statement.
I clench my teeth, trying hard not to show how much I fucking love her bite.
Her animosity fuels me. Invigorates. Every inch of my skin is alive, waiting for her touch. Every nerve is raw and exposed.
“Stop provoking me.” She shoves again and I backtrack with the spike of my pulse. “Stop messing with my head.”
I want to beg her to do the same. To stop pushing buttons. Poking demons.
“You’re fucking insane,” I grate. “You’ve got no idea what you’re doing.”
She shoots me a grin. A fucking taunt of a smile likely to trigger the strongest of men. “Don’t I?” She shoves again. And again. And again.
I take retreating steps with her aggression, for her safety. For her protection. “Nissa,” I growl.
She slams those palms into my chest, her sultry lips curving. My own burn in response, demanding another taste of her sweetness.
I plant my feet. “Do you really want to play, little fox?”
She shoves again.
This time, I don’t budge.
I straighten my shoulders, square my jaw. I look straight down my nose at her, glaring.
She inches closer, sliding up to me. Hip to hip. Chest to chest.
I clench my fists, gnash my molars. I breathe slowly, try to force a sense of calm, but that shit is nowhere to be found.
“I think,” she murmurs, “maybe you’re the one who’s scared about the danger of fucking with me.”
Her spite. Her confidence. Her fucking instability. All of it works against me, building the force I’ve barely contained behind my threadbare restraint.
“Last warning,” I snarl.
She chuckles, the alluring scotch scent of her breath brushing my skin. “How many warnings do you need to give before you understand I’m not going anywhere?”
I snap.
It’s mental and physical.
Feral and uncivilized.
I grab her around the waist and storm forward, shoving her against the closed door. Her back hits with a thwack, her entire body jolting. I hold her off the ground with the hard press of my hips and reclaim that delicate fucking neck of hers in my grip.
She shudders, her glossy lips parting, preparing to speak.
“Shut the fuck up.” I smash my mouth against hers, drawing a gasp from her throat, a whimper from her chest.
I kiss her hard, fast, punishing us both with the ferocity. I release all my frustration into her body, nudging my cock against her, digging my fingers into her skin.
It’s fucking brutal, made all the worse when she matches my severity, her hands grasping my shoulders, her nails digging deep. She wraps her legs around me, clinging tight, grinding the heat of her pussy directly over my dick.
She’s a temptress.
A taste of heaven.
Or maybe an injection of hell.
Who the fuck knows?
All I’m aware of is the craving for more.
I hold her tighter, grind harder, breathing in her needy whimpers and moans.
“You’re going to regret pushing me.” I drag my teeth over her lower lip and pull back to stare at her. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Maybe you’re the one who’s going to regret abducting me.”
“Too late,” I growl. “I already do.”
She raises a brow. It’s all the fucking defiance I need.
I haul her over my shoulder to carry her to the bed, then flop her unceremoniously on the mattress.
She looks up at me. Without regret. Without fucking fear.
“Clothes off,” I demand.
Her sultry mouth opens and those eyes tell me she’s poised to deliver disobedience I have no desire to hear.
I reach out, grab her ankles, and pull her closer, giving myself access to those tight pants. I yank them down, pulling them off.
Her chest rises and falls in quick succession. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lower lip.
I reach for her again, this time dragging her loose top over her stomach, her chest, her head.
It’s not until I’m throwing the material to the floor that I realize she’s cradling her fucking shoulder, holding her arm tight against her body as if I’ve caused her pain.
Fuck.
An apology clogs my throat. Choking. Suffocating.
I fucking ignore it.
I ignore everything apart from the body I’m about to dominate.
She’s all smooth curves and flawless skin, her tits firmly cupped in a black-with-gold-trim bra. I’ve seen it before—the gorgeousness, the slim figure—and having an up-close view only makes me more determined to have her.
With rough hands, I grab the waistband of her matching lace underwear, yank the flimsy material down her thighs, and throw them aimlessly behind me. Then I stare, riddled with lust, at the trim patch of hair between her thighs leading to a perfectly smooth pussy.
She glistens.
Her core is fucking ripe and ready for me.
“Tell me to stop.” I shove her knees apart, exposing more of her pretty pink brilliance. “Tell me you’ve made a mistake.”
She stares me down, her teeth digging into her lower lip, her cheeks flushed.
“Tell me.” I drop to my knees, wrap my arms around her legs, and make her squeal as I haul her to the edge of the mattress.
She’s wet for me, dripping, her body reacting on instinct instead of her conceited fucking morality.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I won’t.”
I lean down, pressing my mouth to the inside of her knee. “Why? You know it’s true.”
She shudders, her skin breaking out in goose bumps. “I think I want to see if your arrogance is justified.”
“I’ll take pleasure in proving it to you.”
I palm her foot, adding pressure to her sole to gently lift her leg and guide it over my shoulder. I do the same with the other, making her my puppet.
My dirty little doll.
I never would’ve thought she was capable of compliance. I always imagined she’d be a handful in bed. An untamed tiger who fought and scratched her way to release. But this submissive side is intriguing.
I inch my head forward, my path marked by teeth scrapes and teasing kisses along the inside of her thighs.
She jolts. Shivers. Whimpers.
She’s putty in my hands, entirely malleable to my touch.
This is usually where my interest wanes. Where I realize the hard-to-get challenge is no longer producing adrenaline.
Orgasms aren’t my goal. The game is. The back and forth. The seduction. It’s rare for a woman to hold my interest once she submits to the inevitable.
But this time it’s different.
She’s different.
I’m still wired. I’m fucking buzzing, my dick hard, my balls tight. Right here, staring down the barrel of her smooth thighs, I’m more challenged than I’ve ever been. More driven to prove my arrogance is fucking justified.
I slide my hands along the outside of her legs, slow, like I’ve got the patience of a monk on valium. I inch closer and closer to her pussy, the heat of her a dizzying temptation, but I won’t fall victim to a quick conclusion.