Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

“Fuck Damon.” I slammed her back into the wall, lifting her up and grinding my dick between her legs. “This is you and me.”

She panted as she locked her legs around my body. The small streak of blood on her cheek started to glow with her sweat, and I didn’t stop touching her or let up, because if I gave her a second to think, she’d stop this.

“I liked you,” I whispered. “I still remember how good those stolen moments with you felt.”

Out of all the women, my mind always found her.

And I couldn’t wait for more. I snatched up her lips, silencing all of our words and worries and baggage and shit and kissed her, dipping my tongue inside and tasting her like she was my fucking meal.

Cold girl—hard girl—why was I obsessed? Why was I jealous that she’d probably given how many other men in that house a piece of her but would barely spare me a one-word sentence?

Fuck her. She wanted me. I didn’t care about the bullshit that came out of her mouth. We weren’t teenagers anymore, and I wasn’t the good guy. She was going to do for me what she did for Damon or David or whoever the fuck else came in and out of the Torrance’s and she was going to know that I was just as ruthless. She underestimated me, but she won’t forget this. That I owned a piece of her just like they did.

I ripped open her jacket and yanked it down her arms. “Take off your shirt.”

I dropped her to her feet, her hat sliding off her head and letting her hair fall free as I pulled my pullover and T-shirt over my head and let them fall to the floor.

She paused, holding up her arms and covering her still-clothed body. “I—”

But I grabbed her and kissed her again, cutting her off. She moaned into my mouth, and I ripped open her flannel, sending buttons flying, and I pulled away, pausing just a moment when I saw the bindings covering her chest.

What the hell?

I’d have to ask her about that when my head cleared later.

I looked down at the desk, seeing a letter opener, and I grabbed it, slipping the cool brass blade down the inside of the wrap and yanked hard, slicing open the material and seeing her beautiful breasts spring free. I breathed hard, briefly taking in the marks on her skin from being wrapped so tight before I pushed her shirt down her arms and came to her, plastering her chest to mine.

“And what this feels like,” I breathed in her ear, lightheaded at the feeling of her hardened nipples pressed into my chest.

I wrapped my arms around her, going mad with the way her back felt as soft as water and with the way her hair caressed my arms, leaving chills.

She clutched onto me, panting and nervous. “I’m his. I belong to him.”

I nodded, forcing her back toward the bed. “Say it again.”

I dived into her neck, biting the skin there.

“I belong to him.” She moaned, letting her head fall back. “I’ll never be yours. I hate you.”

“But you want me.”

And I pushed her back, sending her falling to the bed.

Holding her eyes, I unfastened my belt, ripped open my fly and pushed the rest of my clothes down my legs and off my body.

She sucked in air faster and faster, her eyes widening and locked on my cock as it stood up rock-hard and ready, just as it had been since she’d started hitting me.

I needed that now. Passion. And it didn’t matter that it was anger. As long as the feelings were strong.

Tears filled her eyes, and I watched her breasts, just big enough to fill my hand, and couldn’t wait to own every damn inch of her.

“Do you want me to stop,” I challenged her, stepping up to the bed and looking down on her. “Here’s your chance. Ask me to stop, and I will.”

She was silent, but then her jaw locked, her eyes grew angry, and she snarled. “Yeah, I knew you were all talk. Go ahead and stop then, pussy.”

I broke into a smile.

Reaching down, I gripped the top of her jeans and panties and yanked them down her legs, the over-sized clothes sliding off without any trouble. She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, but I knew it was just her pride talking.