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And I'm going to start right here.
"Bex?" Mia whispers, dragging me from my thoughts and back to what I should be doing.
I run my eyes down the length of her body. The clothing she's hiding behind pisses me the fuck off, and I climb onto the end of her bed to rid it from her body.
My fingers brush the smooth skin of her stomach as I pop the button on her jeans before dragging them down her legs and discarding them on the floor behind me.
Her panties match her bra, and my fingers itch to rip the lace off her.
"You're too beautiful for that asshole, little mouse."
"Bex," she moans as I trail my fingertips from the waistband of her panties, up her flat stomach and between the valley of her breasts.
"This," I hiss, wrapping my fingers around the Quinctus crest that sits against her breastbone. The crest symbolizes that she belongs to him.
Her eyes widen as I pull on it.
"Bexley," she warns.
"This should be mine, not fucking his. You don't belong to him."
"But—" She swallows her argument, because I don't think she really has one.
She's got to toe the line, she knows that. Quinctus has spoken, and she has no choice but to follow through with it.
"You really want this? You want to be his?"
"No. No, I don't want to be his."
Her gasp of shock rings out around the room as I tug on the chain, forcing it to snap and fall away from her body. "Bexley, you can't—"
"Can't what? I can do what the fuck I want. I'm not scared of him, little mouse."
You should be.
I hear her words in my head, despite her lips never moving.
The sound of the metal hitting the wall somewhere behind me pierces through the silence before she squeaks in surprise when my hand wraps around her throat—although she looks anything but scared as her eyes turn almost black with desire and a flush creeps up her cheeks.
"I look much better around your throat, don't you think?"
I shift forward until my thighs are tucked between her legs, my cock brushing against her lace-covered core. Just that gentle touch is enough to have me weeping for her.
I drop down so my lips are next to her ear. "You want me to leave, little mouse? You want me to leave and let him take this from you?"
Her head thrashes back and forth in her refusal.
"You wanna be mine? You wanna give it all up to me?" My free hand skims up her side, cupping her breasts and squeezing hard enough to make her moan.
"Yes," she cries. "Yes, plea—"
She doesn't get a chance to finish that word, because my lips find hers and my tongue plunges into her mouth.
Her familiar taste explodes on my tongue, and I feel myself drowning in her like I did by the lake.
My fingers flex around her throat as I kiss her, consume her, ruin her.
I want her to remember this moment every time he tries to touch her, every time he tries to take anything from her that she's not willing to give.
