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“You know, you really need to stop hitting me.”
“And you really need to stop pissing me off.”
“Now where’s the fun in that.”
I swing again with my other arm, which he also catches. I try to pull away from his grasp but his grip is too tight. Pulling myself up, I try to use my leverage to free my arms but Atlas is simply too strong. With very little effort, he tosses me across his lap like a rag doll, my back hitting the soft couch cushions moments before he climbs on top of me, pinning my arms above my head.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” My breathing is labored and my heart is thumping so hard in my chest I don’t think there’s any way he can’t hear it.
“Trying to make sure your ass can’t take a swing at me every time I say something you don’t like.” He grins at me, clearly enjoying having me helpless beneath him.
“It’s not like my punches actually hurt.” I wither against him, trying to break free.
“You’re right, they don’t.” He presses his weight down on top of me to keep me still.
“I could take you if I wanted to. I’m a lot stronger than you think I am.”
The words have more meaning than he realizes.
“So you keep saying. Let’s see what you got, little B.”
“Don’t call me that.” I begin to buck beneath him.
“Why not?” He easily holds me in place.
“I’m not a baby.” I huff, my body going slack as my energy level once again plummets.
“Is that what you think B means?” He cocks his head to the side, studying me for a long moment.
“I know that’s what it means. You said so yourself.”
“No I didn’t. You assumed and I didn’t correct you.”
“Then what does it mean?”
He leans down so close I swear I forget how to breathe. Every single one of my senses feels magnetized, over stimulated by his nearness.
“You’re a smart girl. Figure it out.”
“Oh my god, it means bitch, doesn’t it.”
He laughs, the vibration of it against my chest sending a hum straight between my thighs. I know I shouldn’t want him. I can’t want him. But my body has a mind of its own and right now wanting him is precisely what I’m doing.
“Wrong again.”
“Beastly?” I take another stab.
“You’re getting colder.”
“Brat?”
“Nope. Give up yet?”
“Yes. Now will you tell me?”
“If you get it right, I will.”
“So I’m supposed to keep guessing?” I whine.
