I step forward, eliminating the space she’s placed between us. Confusion and that delicious anger she used to unleash like a raging wildfire flash in her eyes, and they’re both irresistible.I trail my fingertips along the stubborn yet delicate line of her jaw, the flexing of the muscles underneath sending a bolt of heat straight to my dick. She’s done a commendable job of learning how to cope and manage her IED; I’ll give her that.
But I’ve never been afraid of her fury, her explosions. Quite the opposite. I’ve wanted her to use me and let go. Slap the shit outta me. Scratch me. Punch me. Bruise me.
Mark me.
She’s always seen me as her tormentor.
Good. I want her fear. Ineedher fear. Because if she ever suspected even a sliver of the truth…
I slowly drag my caress down her neck and feel the soft catch in her breath before I hear it. Satisfaction sears me seconds before I strike, gripping her slender throat… squeezing it. Her eyes flare but not with fear. Nah. I should’ve known her hardheaded ass wouldn’t give me what I want. Those honeyed eyes stare back at me with hatred and a delectable defiance that has a beast rising up inside me, roaring and snapping to crush, to tame.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” she calmly says, the ice in her voice licking over my skin and leaving a coat behind. “Is this your game? I guess you’ve forgotten that I’m familiar with all of them.Intimatelyfamiliar.” She inches closer, and on pure reflex, my hand presses tighter against her windpipe. Not that she seems to notice—nah, that’s a lie. That flash of darkness in her golden eyes telegraphs full awareness of her actions and mine. It’s a dare. A gauntlet thrown down. “Hide-and-seek, where you locked me in a closet, not fuckingseekingme for six hours. Or musical chairs, where you tied me to a chair and blasted music so loud for so long, my eardrum ruptured. Or what about blind man’s bluff, when you forced me into your car, drove me to Topanga State Park, and dropped me off, making me walk home. In the dark. And that’s just naming a few. So this…” She taps the back of my hand with a nail. “You’re going to need to come harder,Prince.” She sneers the name that everyone calls me.
Everyone but her.
I shift my grip upward, and instead of letting her go like she demanded, I cradle her chin in a hard, bruising grip. Even when I lower my head until my nose bumps hers and her breath is heated, minty blasts on my lips, I don’t release her, don’t allow her to look away from me.
Was her reminder supposed to stir guilt inside me? Remorse?
If so, she should know better. Should know by now that she got the wrong muthafucka for that.
“You don’t think I’ve learned some new games in the last few years?” I murmur. “Promise, ma, you don’t know everything I’m capable of. But if you don’t watch that mouth, I can help you find out.”
“You can—”
My cell vibrates against my chest, and because every call is a potential business opportunity and I never miss out on money for anyone or anything, I release Ember and slide a hand into the inner pocket of my suit jacket. Irritation flickers inside me when a swift glance down at the screen reveals Aryn’s name.
The fuck does she want? After leaving Marcus and Michelle’s house—well, now only Michelle’s—I went and took Aryn up on the offer she made at the reception. I even beat up the pussy along with that bottomless throat and left her in the damn fetal position with a pillow between her legs. I got a nut and she got several of them, so ain’t shit for us to talk about.
Silencing the phone, I slip it back into my suit pocket.
A snort drags my gaze back to Ember’s face and the twisted smirk riding her mouth that’s about to get her good and fucked.
“As I was saying, you can go now. Play with your bitch, don’t play with me.” She adds a little wave of her fingers, apparently trying to dismiss me.
She got me fucked-up and confused with one of her little lab rats. I got something to fix that shit though. Sometimes muthafuckas just gotta be reminded of who the fuck you are. Lucky for Ember, I don’t mind writing recaps.
Before she can lower her hand, I snatch it, curling my fingersaround hers and tugging her forward. Her free arm rises, breaking her fall against my chest, but that shit doesn’t work, because I step into her so it’s trapped between our bodies. The tendons running along her neck stand out in sharp relief, and her deceptively soft, thick body quivers with the rage radiating off her. I absorb each tremble and savor it like a well-earned trophy.
“Nah, I just had my dick drained, so I’m good on that. But don’t worry, ma.” With the hand not gripping hers, I gently tug on a shorter strand of hair that’s escaped her top bun and slide it behind her ear, nudging the diamond-encrusted hoop piercing the upper and outer cartilage. A small shudder passes through her, and this close, I don’t miss it. Grim, fierce satisfaction snarls inside me, and gotdamn, I want to drop to my knees, press my open mouth to that beautiful peanut-brown skin, and let every one of those shivers vibrate over my tongue. “In all these years, I’ve never found anyone capable of replacing you. No one’s able to take pain like you so beautifully can. Nah, Ember. You’ll never need to worry. You, ma, will always be my favorite playmate.”
I loose her hand and shift my hold to her sports bra. Thrusting three of my fingers down the front of the top, I fist the tight spandex-and-cotton material. A soft cry escapes her, and her palms slap against my chest, breaking her forward fall. That light pop vibrates through me, but not as much as the rapid flutter of her heartbeat against my fingers. Or all that silken flesh encasing my fingers in that damp heat… I clench my teeth, and a throbbing ache pulses along my jaw. In this moment, it’s the closest I’ve come to imagining what it would feel like being plunged into the damp, fleshy warmth of her pussy.
And that quick, I’m addicted.
Fuck that. I’ve been addicted. For years.
Now I’m obsessed. Consumed. Gotdamn fuckingferal.
“Now, do what the fuck I said and go change your clothes.” My grip tightens on her sports bra… But instead of tugging her closer and sucking on her until a violent dark blue and purple bruise rises on her skin, I shove her away from me. Ember stumblesback several steps but quickly regains her balance, glaring at me. “Either that or I have a conversation with the print of that fat-ass pussy instead of you.”
She stares at me, her chest heaving up and down on the loud blasts of breath punctuating the deafening quiet of the living room. Her fingers flex and straighten next to her thick-ass thighs, those golden eyes reflect the need, the hunger to inflict damage. To be the harbinger of pain.
I smile.
And though it feels foreign as fuck and strained on my face, it’s still genuine.
Her “fuck you” isn’t spoken. Then again, what’s understood doesn’t need to be explained.
