A Girl Named Calamity (Alyria 1)

“Enough,” he growled.

“I say when it’s enough!” I shouted before my palm cracked against his face. I was thrown onto my back before I could blink. Weston pinned my arms down while his heavy body covered mine. I bucked, furiously trying to get him off.

“You don’t have any sense, do you?” His body lay on me heavily, almost cutting off my air supply.

“Get off me!” I screamed. The red in my mind boiled, hating being trapped.

“Take a deep breath and calm down. I’m not moving till you do.”

“Then you’ll be here forever! Because I will kill you when I get the chance,” I growled, and I meant every word that I’d said. The red consumed me, and it needed blood.

“I have time,” he said as if he was getting comfortable.

I squirmed and struggled for many minutes, but made no progress.

Without warning the red dimmed, becoming overtaken with something . . . something softer, something itchier as I became aware that I was only rubbing against his body, instead of making any headway in moving him.

Rubbing against the entirety of his hard body.

The thudding of my heart beat to an entirely different drum as the red receded into the dark corners of my mind. My breathing hitched as a blue haze swept in, bringing heat with it. His body pressed against mine had every inch of my skin tingling.

I involuntarily arched my body against his, needing to rub against him.

Feed the blue.

Weston paused, his gaze taking in my change of heart, before his eyes darkened. “Rage isn’t all you got pent up for me, is it, Princess?” His deep voice only sent a pulse of heat between my legs. I needed to hear more. Needed to hear his voice again. He went to push away from me but the blue didn’t want that. Couldn’t handle it.

I ran my hands down his sides and rolled my hips against him in some kind of instinctual dance I had never been aware of, begging for him to ease this itch.

“Fuck. Stop.”

That dirty word only sent another pulse of heat through my body.

“Say that again.”

“Say what?”

His husky voice was music in this blue haze. I rocked my hips against him and moaned when a hardness met the juncture between my thighs. Right where I wanted it. Needed it.

“Fuck,” I answered his question.

“Ah, fu—shit,” he growled. He rolled over and took me with him. He shoved me off, but I only crawled right back in his lap. He made a frustrated noise low in his throat. “You hate me, Calamity.” He said it as if he was trying to convince me. How could I hate him? I needed him.

I only wrapped my arms around his neck as he stood up. He pulled my arms off him and set me down by the trunk of the tree. He pinned me with a hard gaze; I thought he tried to intimidate me. Little did he know, the blue loved it.

“Don’t follow me,” he warned before he brushed the willow strands aside and walked out into the pastel rain. I leaned against the tree, itching to go to his side. Until I couldn’t take it anymore.

I didn’t feel the rain drenching me as my body was too aware of the man in front of me. He was sitting down, leaning against a tree trunk as he watched me with simmering eyes. He didn’t chastise me for following him as I sat in his lap, straddling him in a tenacious blue cloud.

I was breathless as I ran my hands under his shirt, over the ridges on his stomach and up his chest. He only watched me with a serious expression. His hands were by his sides, not encouraging me nor stopping me. His abs tensed underneath my hands as I ran my fingers up and down the indentions. So smooth and hard.

A raindrop ran down his cheek, and I itched to lean forward and lick it off. I knew he heard that thought because his eyes darkened before he shook his head.

My hands roamed over him, trying to feel every inch of him in the least amount of time possible. Over his chest and down his biceps. His shirt was an annoyance, and I tried to pull it off, but he grabbed my wrists. “No.”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“No,” he repeated.