Sordid (Sordid 1)

He issued a sound of discomfort when I bit down hard on his bottom lip. I wanted to draw blood and goad him to match my anger.

“Addison,” he said like a warning.

I ignored. I hiked my black dress up and climbed on him, straddling his lap. I clenched fistfuls of his hair, tugged his head to the side, and sank my teeth into his neck. Once more he groaned, unhappy.

His hands seized my arms. “Addison.”

There was one trick left to try. I wrapped my hands around his throat and squeezed as hard as I could. I didn’t possess enough strength to overpower him, but the dominance snapped his control. His eyes flared with darkness as he ripped my hands away. “What are you doing?”

“Fuck me,” I said. “Be brutal.”

His expression was pure shock. “What? No.”

“Yes. I have to feel something else other than this numbness. I need it,” I said, my voice shaking, “and you owe me.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He shook his head. But as he stared at me, he could tell I was serious. Luka could read what I was feeling, and see how desperately I wanted it. He glanced around the back seat of the limo. “What, right now?”

He liked to be in charge, so I had to push. “Don’t make me wait another second.”

Luka clamped his hands on my waist and moved us together, throwing me onto my back on the bench seat. The force was so great when I slammed into it, my head bounced against the upholstery and it knocked the air from my lungs.

Even though it was mid-afternoon, the tinted windows made the interior dim, and his intense eyes glittered in the low light. “You want it rough?”

“Yes,” I hissed. Once more I sank my teeth into his flesh, biting him just beneath his jaw. I dove my hands inside his suit jacket, sliding them between the silk lining and his dress shirt. “I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.”

He drew back so I could stare up at him. His face was hard, all vicious lines and aggressive eyes. Was I pushing him too far? I was reckless and wild.

Luka rose up on his knees and latched one hand on the back of the seat to steady himself as the limo eased through a turn. His other hand tangled up under my skirt and jerked my panties down while I raised my hips to allow it. He pulled so hard, the fabric dragged painfully across my skin. I kicked it the rest of the way, and he threw them to the floor.

Lust mixed with danger, and hung thick in the back of the vehicle. When he leaned down, I grabbed the collar of his jacket and peeled it off of him, desire and anticipation making me clumsy. The ache for him was a thousand knives stabbing me. I couldn’t think over it.

He let me work his jacket off, but that was it. When I reached for his belt with both hands, he grabbed them and pinned them above my head, holding them against the cool glass of the window. He’d done it so his other hand could shove my legs apart and two fingers pushed so deep inside me, I gasped with a hint of pain.

“You want this?” His tone demanded an answer. Luka never asked permission before.

Warmth flowed from his hand, burning up my core and snaking out through my veins. I squirmed on his fingers and bucked my hips. “Yes,” I babbled. “Yes, yes. I need it.”

I needed him to do bad things to me. Make me deserve what had happened.

When he worked a third finger inside, I cried out, but the discomfort was welcomed. The fire crackled and burned hotter, warming the empty void I’d become.

“Quiet,” he hissed. Maybe he was worried the limo driver would hear me. Luka’s gaze focused in and his expression was vicious. He was exactly how I wanted him to be. His fingers pumped in and out, and I grew slicker with each thrust, showing him how much I liked it, even if my moans sounded otherwise.

He had to release me to undo his pants, and I used the opportunity to launch my own attack. I slapped him again, surprising him with the action, and snarled it out. “Hurry up.”

His eyebrow went through the ceiling and anger swelled in his eyes. As soon as he had his pants shoved down over his hips and his cock out, his palm sealed over my lips. His other hand rubbed my clit in hurried strokes, taking me close to the edge, only for his fingers to come down hard in a strike directly across my aching center. The slap of his hand against my damp skin was a loud snap.

I cried out against his hand, and stared at him wide-eyed. He was a beautiful demon, made just for me. I scratched my nails down his neck, leaving bright pink track marks in my wake. Marking him as mine. The hand on my mouth shifted, so he could clench it around my neck, tight as a vise, collaring me beneath his warm fingers.