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My move.
He allows only a moment more for any last objections before I answer with the faint lift of my hips.
A soft gasp leaves me as he fills me, our gazes locked on the stretch as he claims me in the most intimate way. Once seated, his eyes narrow to slits as both our jaws go slack.
I hate that I love the way his eyes burn bright as he watches my reaction to him. I hate that somewhere deep inside, a voice is dying to break free, the one that never wants this to end, and that the voice belongs to me, to my darkness, to the sick woman inside me that can’t get enough of this evil bastard.
He drives in again, his palm gliding up my body before he tightens it around my throat.
“Call out to me,” he orders, his voice laced with restraint. “We might as well enjoy hell together.”
The feel of this is overwhelming; too carnal, too personal, it’s just entirely too much, and it’s driving me to the brink. His thrusts deepen, and I begin a quick climb, the pressure of his fingers around my neck fluctuating with every roll of his hips.
I rip at his hand as he denies me air, the intensity building with every squeeze and release. My need growing the heavier his hand becomes.
“Call out to me,” he grits out as he slams into me and I hold onto his hand, unable to steady myself. I’m teetering on the edge of darkness when he pulls out and taps the top of my pussy with his thick head.
My body writhes beneath him, my center aching from his absence. He wants to absolutely break me, brainwash me, brand my body, train it to crave him—and only him.
Why can’t he just be satisfied with what he’s taken already?
He presses in again, his chest rippling with restraint, his thick voice full of command.
“Call out to me, Cecelia.”
“No.”
He’s taken everything else. I won’t give him this. I can’t give this man more of what he so clearly doesn’t deserve. He searches my face seeing the truth of it and slams into me, and I bow off the bed, my body convulsing in pleasure before he bends, claiming my mouth. He fucks me with his tongue, suffocating me with his kiss, his hand still wrapped around my throat. It’s torturous, agonizing bliss. When he pulls away, his strokes pick up as I crest again and he squeezes, cutting off my air supply just as I explode around him. My body succumbs as the tidal wave of ecstasy washes through me, and the minute my throat is released, I moan, rippling with the onslaught before I unhinge.
Shivering in the aftermath, he laces our hands and pins them next to my head. Our mouths collide as he pistons inside me, the slapping sound of skin again driving me to the brink. When he feels me tighten around him in anticipation of another release, he rips his mouth away. I climb and climb as he keeps me pinned, his eyes locked in on my lips. Just before I come again, he releases my hands and scoops me into his hold. Lifted from the mattress, his forearms cradle my thighs, his arms hooking through mine while his fingers dig into my shoulders, anchoring me to him. And within a few thrusts, I erupt, biting my lips, holding his name on my tongue, coming so hard I see black. Utterly sated, I go limp as he lays me back on the bed, gripping my chin in his hand and forcing my eyes to his as he thrusts once, twice, and succumbs.
I see it, that immense pleasure in his gaze as he fills me with his orgasm, a long groan erupting from his throat before his eyes close and he collapses at my side.
He takes great care not to touch any part of me as he regains his strength. I turn my head and study him as he stares up at the ceiling, seeming lost in his thoughts.
Long minutes pass and I feel the fatigue sent in, and oddly enough, sleep begins to beckon me. Sometime later, I open my eyes to see him watching me.
Briefly, he lowers his stare to my bare flesh before he darts it away. “This was a mistake.”
A sarcastic laugh erupts from me. “You think, Tobias?” I shake my head. “Be honest and admit tonight was just as purposeful as the first. If I have to own it, you do too.”
“You sound a lot like Sean.” He weighs my answering expression. “That pleases you.” I see the disdain in his eyes. He’s jealous, or something close to it. And it’s territorial jealousy at most because there’s no way this man cares for me.
“You can’t tell me who to sleep with.”
“I don’t have to. You won’t fuck anyone but me. You proved that to yourself. And I don’t share all the beliefs of my brothers.” Women. He doesn’t share women. His eyes flare in warning. “From here on out, I strongly suggest you don’t test me on that.”
“Well, let me think of a response,” I pretend to mull it over. “Screw you. You don’t own me. And you’re crazy if you think I’m taking orders from you now just because of this.”
“But you won’t.” His confident smirk is infuriating. He moves to get up and I position myself back in bed as he pulls on his boxers.
“You aren’t staying. I don’t want you here.”
He glares at me from where he stands, one arm through his T-shirt. “What in the hell makes you think I want to stay here?”
He lifts his slacks and fastens the buckle, the loose hair cresting across his forehead, distracting. His business dress is a contrast to the jeans and T-shirts I’m used to, and I briefly wonder which I’d prefer under different circumstances.
But with Tobias, I’m grateful I still feel nothing but hate and lust. And the softness in his eyes tonight with my confessions only angered me. He set out to hurt me. He made sure of it. But he himself gave me the power to remain immune to him.
