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“What?” I gape.
He steps closer. “Unless you just want me to rip them from your body.”
Erm, yes please.
But also, fuck no at the same time.
“Fuck you,” I snarl.
“That’s the plan, darling. Guess.” He grins.
I panic. “Seven”
He throws the dice, catching them expertly. With a wink, he shows the dice. Fuck. “Top,” he demands.
“No,” I snarl, but reach down and yank off my shoes, throwing them at him. They hit his chest and bounce off, making his grin grow. “You fucking bastard! Is this the only way you can get a woman?”
Even as I spit vile words at him, I can’t help but pant, my legs clenching together as he watches me, his focus fully on my body. Like he can’t wait to eat me, fuck me, have me. Instead of forcing me like they could have, he won fair and square.
Won me.
And my body.
But…can I pay up?
Their reach is like a venom taking root inside me. At first, you don’t even realise it’s there. Slowly spreading through you, changing you, moulding you, infecting you, until it’s too late to be free. That’s how I feel, because I hated them, still do, but now it’s clouded with need.
One they forced into me, built inside me, and they know it.
I hate that.
I hate them.
Who says I can’t have some fun with it? Hate sex is like nothing else, and this desire clearly isn’t going away and I’m not getting free any time soon, so I might as well make the most of it…right?
That’s what I tell myself anyway.
“Fine,” I snarl. “Nine.” I point at the dice and he rolls again.
It comes up twelve, and he smirks. “Shirt,” he demands.
Ripping it over my head with a growl, I toss it at him. Why the hell did I agree to this game? I’m just in my panties and bra now, and he takes his time looking me over. I shiver under his possessive gaze, my nipples pebbling against the lace fabric, and my panties are no doubt soaking. Brilliant.
“Next guess, darling?” he murmurs, his eyes locked on my flushed chest as I clench my legs further together. With a groan, he reaches down and rearranges himself. “Fuck, you are way too beautiful.”
I ignore that, because honestly, what would I say? “Thirteen,” I snarl, but he’s too busy staring at me still. I can almost feel the caress from his gaze. “Kenzo.”
His eyes jerk up, locking with mine, and the dice go flying as he pounces. I yelp as he pins me to the sofa, ripping open my thighs and settling between them as he grinds against me. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“What? Kenzo?” I query in confusion, and he groans.
“Yes, like that, darling.”
“It’s literally your name, would you prefer I just call you asshole?” I snap, even as I arch up into him.
“Call me whatever you want, darling, as long as you don’t stop me and scream it for everyone to hear.” He laughs as he drops his lips to mine. I couldn’t stop him, even if I wanted to, my words are caught in my throat as I grab his hair and yank him closer. He smirks against my mouth, so I bite down on his lip.
With a grunt, he wrenches away, panting hard as he glares at me. “Act like a brat, and you will get treated like one.”
