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“They can’t.”
“What?” she asks, stilling, and eyeing me curiously.
That’s it. Time to give it to her straight.
Looks like that’s the only version of me she respects, the only one she can respond favorably to. She really hates weakness in others, and herself. It’s why she can’t even admit she’s hurting right now and should be resting up.
I push out of the chair. “You do know me. I’m the same guy I’ve always been. Just been keeping it on the down low, because there weren’t no place to unleash all that for a few years. With Thorns, I became their protector, not the one delivering pain and justice. I played it a certain way to you when you first showed up and uttered Priest’s name to me, because I wanted you to stand down.”
“You… what?”
“Wanted to take my time, Charlotte! Do it right, so he’d never see it coming, so it wouldn’t put anybody I care about in danger!”
“Well, if you’d just told me that, I would’ve stood with you. Thinking you were giving up was never something I was going to accept, or allow.”
“Taking orders at all ain’t something you can ever accept! Now look at this shitshow!”
“So, you’re going to fight? You’re not following some ridiculously self-sacrificing path after all?”
“Heroes do that. I ain’t nobody’s hero.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, or—”
“Heroes compromise. That won’t work with Priest and his Gatekeepers.” I step right up in her personal space, getting off on her breath hitching at the sudden closeness. I take real careful note that she don’t do a thing to remedy it, or push me away. “Priest thinks he’s the goddamn devil here. I am. They’ll scream, they’ll bleed, and they’ll kneel for me.” As the ferocity of it all runs through me, taking me over, my next words come out as a growl, “And then I’ll watch them burn to ash.”
Her mouth curls into a sinister smirk. “There he is. The man I remember.”
I reach out and grasp her chin. “Here I am.”
She bats my hand away, then grabs at my t-shirt. She jerks me down to her and presses her lips to mine.
That first brush is the only gentle thing about it, because in the next moment, she’s biting my bottom lip, just shy of being hard enough to draw blood. And then she’s thrusting her tongue into my mouth.
Her kiss is rough and punishing.
Anger and desperation collide in a dangerous cocktail of ruthless passion.
It calls to me like nothing else.
Before I know it, I’m falling under the influence of it and slamming her up against the nearest wall. I hear her grunt in pain, but that acknowledgement slips away in the next second. My dick’s in the driving seat, my need for her ruling everything else.
I’m ripping the straps of her tank down in the next second and exposing her breasts. She moans into my mouth and fists her hands in my hair as I knead the soft flesh, then pinch and pull her nipples. She wants more right away, arching her back, and pushing them harder into my hands.
Everything becomes frenzied all too quickly.
The kiss.
My hands roaming over her breasts.
And then a small cry escapes her as I grind my hard cock against her roughly, jarring her against the wall.
The thick haze of desperate need shatters and reality comes crashing back in.
“Fuck,” I mutter, tearing myself from her, and forcing myself back a couple of steps.
She reaches out for me, but I hold up my hand and take another step back, trying to get a handle on my self-control. “You ain’t gonna be able to handle it if I fuck you the way I want to right now, the way I know you need me to.”
“I’m the only one who’s ever been able to handle you,” she argues.
