By the time we hit my room, he’s already out of breath, and his resistance has shifted—a little less vicious and chaotic and more about the contact. He grabs at my shirt like he’s ready to rip it off. To touch me or to make me bleed, I guess we’ll find out.
I shut the door behind us and cross to the bed in three long strides.
Then I drop him.
He hits the mattress and bounces once, his green hair falling into his face. But just as quickly, he moves again, scrambling back off the bed fast and coming at me without hesitation. His fist connects with my shoulder, then my chest. He’s not pullingpunches, not really holding back, but he’s not exactly trying to end me either. He could use his powers for that.
“Asshole!” he shouts, hitting me again and again. “You don’t get to just…” Another hit. “…fucking decide things for everyone!”
I let him get a few more in, let him burn some of it off. Then I catch his wrist. He tries to pull free, but I don’t let him. I haul him forward until his chest crashes into mine, his face two inches away.
“Are you done?” I ask.
“Fuck you.”
“One day. If you’re a good boy.”
That has his eyes widening and his breath catching.
But he recovers quickly, taking a step back, and it earns me another swing with his free hand. I block it, then bring my own hand up, palm open, and smack him across the face, the slap hard enough to sting my hand and make his head turn to the side.
Cason falls still, a moan he tries to repress slipping between his lips.
I let go of his wrist to grab him by the chin, forcing his face back toward mine. With my other hand, I reach for his cock, squeezing his semi through his jeans. His gaze meets mine, already glazing over.
Hauling him forward once more, I bring his lips a whisper from mine. “I see you.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Even as he says it in a weakened voice, he grinds into my hand.
Releasing him, I push him back onto the bed once more, harder than before. The breath is knocked out of him, but that doesn’t slow him down. Before he can crawl off the bed, I move on top of him. He shoves at me, trying to twist away, legs kicking as he fights for the upper hand. Half-heartedly. I know thedifference. If he wanted out, if he needed this to stop, I’d be on the floor already.
A nice electrocution is as good a safe word as any.
Catching both his wrists, I pin them above his head and lay my body over his, letting him feel the weight of me, both our breathing uneven. His eyes are bright with something that isn’t just anger anymore.
“I know what it is you want, little menace.” I thrust my hard cock against his through the annoying layers of our clothes. “You want it to hurt. You want me totakeyou. You want me to fucking use you.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
There’s a beat, only quiet breath. And then whatever’s left of the fight in him bleeds into something heavier and deeper and even more real.
“No.” It’s a whisper on his lips as his gaze locks on mine. “Makeme.”
I arch a brow at him because it’s rare his tone isthatsincere.
Holding onto both his wrists with one hand, I rise up just enough to reach for my gun at my side. I place the barrel beneath his chin, and his eyes immediately grow heavy under the surge of adrenaline and arousal.
“Did you miss my gun, menace?”
His lips press into a thin line as though he’s having to force himself to keep from saying yes. However, the little noise that comes from his throat gives him away.
“Don’t think that’s going to make me stop fighting you,” he says.
“Good. Don’t.” I peer to the side where my shadows are currently crawling up the wall, starving for a taste of him. “They’ll fucking love it too.”
