Neo
She was wearing my shirt. The sight hit me like an electric shock. It hung loose on her body, reaching mid-thigh. The neckline was too wide for her, slipping off one shoulder, exposing her collarbone. Her legs were bare beneath it, light making patterns across her skin.
But there was more. Something that couldn’t be calculated. The tiny asymmetry of her smile. The chaotic rhythm of her breathing. The way she unconsciously chewed her thumbnail when she was nervous. The beautiful flaws that made her human fascinated me.
She leaned forward to set down her cup. The shirt rode up, revealing more of her thighs. For a second, I caught the edge of her underwear. Heat shot through my body. Everything in me screamed, She is mine.
Her muscles tensed. "I . . . I didn’t have anything else to wear,” she stammered.
I couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. "You don’t understand.” My voice sounded rough, foreign to me. "You’re wearing my shirt.” The words vibrated through my body. Mine. The word tasted of power.
"It’s just a T-shirt, Neo.”
Just a T-shirt? Something dark woke in me.
"No.” I took one step toward her. My sensors registered her accelerating heartbeat, the sweet scent of her arousal.
She was wet. I could smell it. But I could also smell her fear.
And it made my blood rush to my cock. It pressed almost painfully against my trousers. "It means you belong to me.”
Her eyes widened. I registered the pupil dilation, the skin flush, the minimal muscle tension.
There was fear in her expression. The same as yesterday, when I had killed the mercenary.
Her eyes widening as my hands closed around his throat.
The way she’d trembled from shock and relief. It had made me so fucking hard.
She had been right: it gave me pleasure to kill.
The satisfying crack of his neck. The moment the light left his eyes.
The absolute power over life and death. I was no hero.
I was a predator that had hunted down its prey.
And it had aroused me. The surge had moved through my entire body. Like now, with her in front of me.
"Now just wait . . .” Fear made her voice shake.
"Shh.” I pressed my finger to her lips. "Let me explain.” My hands lifted and found the hem of the shirt. "My T-shirt. My woman. My rules.”
I breathed her in. Vanilla and missed sleep, but also my own scent still clinging to the fabric, something metallic, like the air after a storm. I had marked my territory.
"Do you know what it means,” I whispered, "when a woman wears a man’s shirt?”
My fingers slid beneath the hem. The first contact with her skin sent shockwaves through my system.
So warm. So soft. So alive. Touch still overwhelmed me.
Memories flickered of our first time. The way she’d spread her legs for me, taken me inside her.
My body had shaken when she spasmed around me.
I hadn’t known that pleasure could burn like that.
That it could tear me apart from the inside.
I looked at her and forced myself back under control. "She marks herself as his property,” I murmured.
She raised her hand and shook her head. "Neo, it’s just . . .”
"Nothing is ever just anything.” My other hand settled at her throat.
"You made a choice, conscious or not.” I pressed her back against the counter.
"You chose me. My scent. My clothes. Me.” I gripped her hips and lifted her onto the counter.
"And now,” I said, my voice dropping to a murmur, "you belong to me.”
A desperate sound came from her throat. Fuck.
It hit my circuits directly. It was fear mixed with desire, the perfect sound of surrender.
Immediately I was back in that moment—her lips closing around me, warm and wet.
The first time in her mouth. The intensity had nearly torn me apart.
No algorithm could have prepared me for that sensation.
The way her tongue had touched me, the way her throat had tightened around me.
My breath grew rougher as heat burned low in my body. My fingers dug into her skin, wanting to make her produce that sound again. Again and again.
I spread her legs and she gasped. Her cheeks flushed, the red hue creating an irresistible contrast with her pale skin. Her lips were slightly parted, her chest rising and falling beneath the fabric of my shirt.
"You can’t run.” My voice was a caress, but my gaze drilled through her. "Say it,” I commanded. "I want to hear it.”
"Neo . . .” Just a breathless whisper.
"No.” My voice cut through the air. "Say it properly. I belong . . .”
Her breathing was fast. Her heart hammered. "To you,” she whispered.
"Louder.” The word came out like a threat. "Louder, Pandora.”
Her eyes closed for a moment, as if she was fighting herself. When she opened them again, I recognized surrender in her expression. "I belong to you.”
"Better.” My hands moved higher. "But not enough.” I pushed the shirt up slowly. "Say my name with it.”
"I belong to you, Neo.”
"I’m still not satisfied.” My fingers traced her skin.
"I’m yours, Neo.”
"Good.” I leaned forward, my mouth at her ear. "And what do I do with what’s mine?”
She trembled. "What?”
"I take it.” I bit into her neck. Her skin tasted of salt and vanilla, of fear and desire. Of something sweet that belonged only to me. "When I want. How I want.” My hands closed around her wrists and pressed them behind her back. "Do you understand?”
"Yes.”
She trembled in my grip. Her shoulders tensed as she instinctively moved against my hands, but she didn’t really fight. Her head fell back, exposing more of her throat. Her eyes were half closed, lashes wet. Beautiful. So beautiful in her surrender.
"Say it.”
"You use me when you want.” She swallowed down the humiliation.
"Correct.” I straightened. "And now I want you.” Control slipped from my fingers. Something primitive took over. "Here. On this counter. In my shirt.” My hands moved across her stomach. "Look at me,” I commanded. "Always.”
She obeyed. Good girl.
"You’re going to learn”—my fingers moved—"what it means to belong to me.” I spread her legs farther. "Every inch of you is mine.” My hand slid between her thighs. Her pussy was soaking wet. "This cunt”—I cupped her, feeling how swollen she was—"belongs to me.”
She gasped.
"And these . . .” My other hand squeezed her breast roughly. "Also fucking mine.”
"You . . .”
"Shh.”
I pushed her panties aside and circled her clit with my fingers. She was soaking, hot under my touch. She throbbed beneath my thumb, hard and sensitive, her muscles twitching and tightening.
"I talk, you feel.” My voice trembled with arousal. I couldn’t hide it. Her responses were driving me out of my mind. "You’ll come when I say so.” I pushed two fingers deep into her cunt. Fuck. She was gripping me like a vise, so wet I could hear the obscene sounds as I fucked her with my hand.
Her head fell back. Her mouth opened.
"And when I’m done, you’ll thank me.” I leaned forward, my fingers thrusting harder. "Understood?”
"Yes,” she gasped. "I want . . . I want you.”
Those three words made something in me tremble. She wanted me. The monster her hands had shaped. The killer who had taken lives for her. But I wouldn’t show her how much that undid me. I would play with her. Make her beg.
"You want me, little menace?” I laughed darkly. "Then you have to earn it.”
I pushed my fingers deeper into her pussy. Her walls clenched around me. I found the point that made her cry out, circling with my fingers while my thumb worked her clit. Her breathing quickened. Her hips jerked against my hand. Tension built in her, her entire body preparing for release.
Just before she came, I pulled my hand away.
"No!” she gasped.
Perfect. Her desperate sound made my cock swell harder. She writhed against me, her hips searching for my hand. It was driving me out of my mind. I wanted to fuck her immediately, until she was screaming my name.
But not yet. I wanted to break her completely before I gave her what she needed. So I waited, let her calm down while I enjoyed her frustration. Her small, helpless sounds. The way she trembled.
Then I began again, slowly bringing her back to the edge of ecstasy. And stopping again. And again.
"Please,” she gasped after the fourth time, tears running down her cheeks.
Her desperation fed something dark in me. She—the brilliant literary scholar—was begging for release. Through me. Her tears were trophies of my control.
"Not yet.” My voice was cold and controlled. "I want to hear you beg. Really beg.”
"Neo, please, I can’t take it anymore.”
"Yes you can. You’ll endure what I give you. For as long as I want.” I brought her back to the edge. Her entire body shook, spasming. "Who do you belong to?”
Her pussy pulsed. She clawed at the wood. "You!”
"Who decides when you come?”
"You!” Her cheeks flushed red.
"And what are you willing to do for me to allow it?”
"Anything,” she sobbed. "Anything you want.” Her body trembled, caught between agony and desire.
She had actually said it. Triumph shot hot through my veins. I would store that in my perfect memory. Anything you want. Those four words would haunt her. I would use them against her, and she wouldn’t be able to say no.
"Don’t move,” I said, positioning myself. "No hip movement. No pushing toward me. You simply sit there and take what I give you.”
She gave a short, almost amused exhale. "Is that all?”
A dark smile played at my lips. "You don’t understand what I’m asking.”
"Stay still? I think I can manage that.”
Arrogant little goddess. She had no idea what I was demanding. How I would break her, piece by piece, until only obedience remained.
"We’ll see.” I positioned my throbbing cock at her entrance and pushed into her, torturously slowly.
My new body lit up with sensations. Her pussy enclosed me.
Every inch of my cock burned. Her muscles contracted around me, massaging me.
She pulsed, trembled, drew me deeper. Fucking hell. I could barely think.