Chapter 35 #2
She grabs my wrist. Doesn’t pull it away. Just holds on. Hard. “If you’re going to fuck me angry, at least be honest about it.”
I meet her eyes. Dark. Challenging. Still fighting even pinned like this.
“I’m always honest when I’m inside you,” I tell her. Voice wrecked. “And you’re always mine when you come.”
She doesn’t answer with words. She answers by dragging my mouth back to hers—fierce, hungry, giving as good as she gets.
The violence doesn’t leave. It just finds its place between us, where it belongs.
She shoves me again—harder this time, both palms slamming into my chest like she wants to put me through the wall.
I give her the step, willingly.
Because the fire in her eyes is better than the silence in the car. Better than the careful way she’s moved around me since we left that house, like one wrong touch might split me open.
“There,” she says, breathing hard. “That’s better.”
I stare at her, those eyes sharp. Chin up.
Not scared.
Never fucking scared enough.
“Take off your clothes,” she says, voice low. “Get on the bed.”
A laugh tears out of me, dark and real.
She wants to order me around now. Wants to push back because she can feel the rage on me and refuses to let it pin her flat under it.
That alone makes my cock throb.
I stalk forward until she has to tip her head back to keep looking at me.
“You giving commands now, Beda?”
Her eyes narrow, lips curling in that stubborn way that always hooks me deeper.
“If you want to bury that cock inside me and fuck the rage out of your system,” she says, words deliberate and filthy, dripping with challenge, “then maybe learn to take an order for once. Or I walk into that shower alone.”
“Careful.”
“Or what?”
Her voice cuts clean through me.
A challenge.
Always a challenge.
She steps in closer, close enough that the heat of her skin hits mine, and lowers her voice. “If you want to work whatever the hell that is out of your system inside me, then do what I said.”
I look at her for one long second.
Then I step back. Her pupils flare.
Possession surges, but so does the amusement. She’s playing my game, turning it back on me. Fine. Let her think she’s winning this round.
I peel my shirt off slow, watching her watch me. Muscles flex under her stare; I see the way her throat works, swallowing. Then my pants—belt unbuckled, zipper down, fabric shoved off my hips until I’m bare, hard, ready. Her gaze drops, lingers.
“You gonna keep staring,” I ask, voice rough, “or use it?”
She doesn’t answer with words.
Just hooks her fingers into the waistband of her panties and slides them down her legs—slow, deliberate, eyes locked on mine the whole time. Then she steps forward, plants a hand on my chest again, and shoves.
I let myself fall back onto the bed. The mattress dips under my weight. She climbs over me immediately, knees bracketing my hips, mouth parted, breath quick, still acting like this is about control and not the fact that she’s soaked and furious and wants something to break too.
Fuck. The sight of her like this—naked, defiant, positioning herself to take control, makes my blood pound. She reaches down, grips me hard, lines me up, and sinks down slow.
I groan, hands instinctively going to her hips. “That’s it,” I breathe. “Take it deep.”
She’s tight, hot, so fucking wet, and the second she bottoms out I nearly grab her and flip her onto her back just to remind us both who this body belongs to.
Instead I let her move.
For a second.
Her hips start rolling—slow, deliberate, each drag of her cunt over my cock edged with defiance. Her nails bite into my shoulders. Her face tightens. She’s feeling it. Fighting not to show how much.
I watch her grind down, greedy, chasing her own release like she’s trying to prove something.
“You’re grinding like you’ve been starved for my cock,” I rasp, voice low and mean. I thrust up once—hard, deep, knocking the air out of her. “Greedy little hole can’t get enough, can it?”
Her breath hitches, eyes flashing with that mix of fury and heat she can’t hide. She grinds harder in response, like she’s daring me to shut up. Nails rake down my chest. Her cunt clenches around me—tight, involuntary, proof she hates how much she loves it.
That’s my girl.
I grip her hips bruising. “Answer me.”
She leans forward, breath hot against my mouth. “You talk too much.”
Then she rocks again and I’m done being generous.
I thrust up again, hard enough to knock a sound out of her.
Her head jerks back.
There she is.
I do it again. And again. Her hands slip on my shoulders. Her breath breaks. I feel her body start giving me what her mouth won’t—every tight clench, every hitch, every pulse of heat around me.
Mine.
I lock my hands on her hips and stop cold. Her eyes snap to mine, frustrated, furious.
“Keep going,” she demands, voice wrecked. She tries to roll her hips, chase the friction. I grip harder, lock her in place.
“No.”
The word hangs between us.
She stares at me, breathing hard, cunt fluttering around my cock like her body’s trying to argue the point for her. I hold her there. Buried full. Not giving her what she wants. Not yet.
She leans forward, lips brushing mine—soft for a split second, deceptive. Then she pulls back, and cold metal presses against my throat.
Her knife. Small, sharp, glinting in the low light.
My pulse jumps from the rush. The edge bites just enough to sting, and my cock twitches inside her.
“Keep. Fucking. Going,” she hisses, eyes dark and wild.
I laugh—low, thrilled, the sound vibrating against the blade. “Where’d you get the knife, Beda? Hiding blades under the pillow now?”
“Always.”
I chuckle under my breath.
My hand slides up her spine, over the back of her neck, holding her there while I lift my throat into the edge just enough to feel the bite.
Sharp.
Real.
Her breath catches.
“You gonna do it,” I murmur starting to thrust up again—slow, punishing, “or just threaten me with it?”
The edge presses in. A shallow sting. Then heat.
Blood.
Not much. Enough.
Enough to throw copper into the air between us and make something animal in me bare its teeth.
She stares at the red on my skin like she didn’t expect me to let her.
Then her fingers drag through it. Across my chest.
Smearing me with my own blood.
Fuck. The sight of it—her hands on me, red-streaked, mixes with her scent, that sweet marshmallow edge clinging to her skin, cutting through the sweat and sex.
It’s overwhelming. Visceral. Her cunt clenching around me. Every nerve lights up, primal.
I grab her jaw.
Hard enough to make her gasp, keeping her eyes on mine.
“Now, fuck me back.”
She does, rolling those hips.
Once.
Twice.
I drive up into her, setting the rhythm myself, one hand on her jaw, the other between us where I find her clit already swollen and slick.
I rub hard, mean circles, and she gasps, the knife wavering but still there, still kissing my neck while I fuck up into her like I’ve got something to punish out of both of us.
“That’s it, Beda,” I rasp between thrusts. “Ride me like you hate how good it feels. Squeeze that tight cunt around me—show me how much you need this cock even when you’re holding a blade to my throat.”
That does it.
I laugh and thrust harder.
Her whole body locks, then shudders. She comes with a broken sound I feel in my spine, cunt pulsing around me so hard it drags my own release right up behind it.
I slam up deep and spill inside her with a curse, hands bruising, teeth clenched, still staring at her like I could carve the sight of this into bone.
For a second neither of us moves.
Then she folds over me, breath hot and ragged against my throat.
I feel her mouth there before I understand what she’s doing.
Tongue against the cut. A slow lick, open mouth kisses.
The sensation hits me like another blow, cock jerking back half-hard inside her.
Goddamn.
My hand fists in her hair.
She lifts her head just enough to look at me, eyes heavy, wicked, satisfied in a way that makes something dark in me grin back. Thrill coils tight in my gut.
My blood streaks her lips, red and faint and fucking filthy.
“Now I own you,” she smirks.
I pull her in by the hair and lick the blood from her mouth, tongue dragging over her bottom lip until the copper taste hits my tongue.
“Ty opasna, Beda,” I murmur against her mouth. “You’re going to be the death of me.”