I’d love for her to fight me, but I’ll only allow it after she submits.
“I’ll do as I see fit,” I answer simply, and she refuses to look back at me, her fingers tracing each of the papers. “All you have to do is obey me and I’ll give you everything you need.”
“I’d rather die.” Her hazel eyes simmer with indignation as she waits for my answer. “You can have it back.”
I take my time, sitting on the chair in front of her. Towering over her small frame, I lean forward and speak calmly. “My songbird, it’s one thing to have the balls to say that. I respect it. But it’s another to go through with it. You’ve already obeyed twice. And I didn’t ask much, did I?”
She huffs in a tone that’s both weak and strong. A manner that reflects her tortured state. So close to having what she wants and needs, and yet so close to losing everything.
“It was a cruel joke, wasn’t it?” Her eyes narrow as she gazes at the door like it beckons her.
“I don’t joke, Aria. Your life belongs to me. Everything you will ever get for the rest of your existence will come from me.” My words come out harsh and irritated. I’m sick and fucking tired of her denying both of us. “Get. On. Your. Knees.”
“Fuck you,” she spits out, and instantly my fingers nearly wrap around her throat as the rough pad of my thumb rests against her lips. I can feel the rush of her blood in her neck as I grip her tightly, her gasp filling the air along with the sound of the chair scraping from the rapid movement forward.
She stiffens with my touch but she doesn’t protest, staring back at me with that burning expression as I tighten my grasp. Her breath comes out with a shudder, but she stares back at me expectantly, waiting for what I’ll do next.
My heart hammers and my dick stiffens with each passing second that she holds my heated gaze. I see the moment she realizes that her hands are on my waist. Pulling herself toward me, not pushing me away.
Her eyes spark and I nearly crash my lips against hers, urging for more. Instead, I leave her there, letting a low hum of approval fall from my lips so she knows I know exactly what she’s thinking.
A fire ignites between us as she grips me tighter, so tight the sound of her nails scratching against my pants is all I can hear.
“You think you shouldn’t do it, simply because you’ve been taught it’s wrong. But is that what you really want?”
“I don’t want you,” she says breathily, not even attempting to hide her desire.
“I won’t let you ride my cock until you tell me how badly you want to cum on it.” I hold her fiery gaze as I ask, “Do you understand me?”
Her body sways slightly as she holds back a strangled groan of lust.
“Humor me, Aria. I already know you’re strong.”
“You make me weak.” Her voice breaks and the tension from the other day returns in full force. She steadies her trembling lip between her teeth.
“Is that what you’re afraid of? Being weak?”
She nods her head slightly, ever so slightly. And I can see the last bit of her walls crumble for me. Crashing down to the ground in small, insignificant piles of rubble.
“I don’t want you weak.” I lean forward, whispering against her lips, “I want you mine.”
Her eyes close and her body bends forward; she rests nearly her entire weight on me. “I will never submit to you,” she says, and her words are a weak confession. As if she hates their existence.
She’s close. So close. I need to offer her something.
Hope. The offer of hope is something a desperate person can never afford to pass up.
“I made a deal I shouldn’t have. But I need to go through with it for as long as I have to. And it has to appear that I’ve done what would be expected. You’re going to help me and then I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“What do you need me to— “
“Obey me,” I say, cutting her off. “Kneel when I enter and do as I wish.” My hands tingle with the sensation of feeling her so close to caving. They clench and unclench at my side.
Time passes in slow ticks as she pulls herself away from me. She can try to pretend she has somewhere else to go. But I’m her only way out of this. And eventually, she’ll beg me for something. She. Will. Beg.
“Anything?” she asks, and she already knows the answer. “Like my freedom?”
“Almost anything.” I don’t lie to her.
“There’s nothing else–” she starts, but I cut her off. “There’s always something else.” My words are sharp at first but I correct myself.