Page 6 of Whiskey Pain


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I push her against the back of the closet, my hand returning to her neck. “Whatever I want.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

Her throat bobs. I feel the vibration of her words against my palm, and I squeeze tighter. Just enough to warn her, but nowhere near the level of ruthless I should be.

A small kind of yelp bubbles between her lips, and I want to swallow it down. I want to seal her mouth with mine so she can’t make another sound.

Her hands slide around my shoulders. But she doesn’t push me away; she draws me closer.

This isn’t what I had planned when I shoved her in the closet. But then again, there’s more than one way to torture someone. There’s a power in this. Anyone who disagrees isn’t doing it right.

Piper won’t give me what I want.

So I’ll take it.

I slide my hand down the front of her pants and find her hot and damp. Her hips buck against my palm as I hiss into her ear, “When I’m done with you, death will feel like a blessing.”

As much as I need to destroy Piper, the minute our lips touch, I can practically hear my control fly out the window. Her mouth is hot and hungry against mine. Desire roars inside of me like a fire, all-consuming and inescapable.

The kiss shifts from heated to an inferno in seconds. She digs her fingers into my skin as I crush her against the wall. Our bodies press and seek in violent, clumsy movements.

Distantly, I hear hangers rattling to the floor and things shifting around us, but I don’t give a fuck. The goddamn earth would have to open up and swallow me whole before I cared.

Piper is straddling my thigh, dragging herself up and down the length of my leg. She moans. “Timofey.”

I pull back. “Naked. Now.”

There’s uncertainty in her green eyes, but her response is immediate. Piper strips off her shirt and her bra. By the time she’s reaching for the waistband of her jeans, I can’t wait. I shove her hands aside and yank the material down around her knees.

I cup her warm center, stroking my fingers over the lacy material of her panties. Then, with a quick rip, she is bare against my palm.

“You can’t lie about this.” I swirl my finger in the moisture pooled between her thighs. She is slick and ready. “You like it rough, don’t you? You’re desperate for me to destroy you.”

She trembles when I circle her clit. Her lower lip is pinched between her teeth and her eyes are closed.

“Look at me,” I bark.

She blinks and meets my gaze. Color is rising in her cheeks, and she’s breathing heavily for a new reason now.

“It’s a simple question. Do. You. Like. This?”

I curl two fingers into her. She rises onto her toes for a second and then tries to spread her legs. But the jeans around her thighs have them pinned closed. Soft, pleading sounds work loose from her, but no words.

“Answer me.”

Her lips stay stubbornly closed until I stroke into her once and then twice, massaging her quivering insides as my thumb circles her clit.

Then I add a third finger.

She gasps and her eyes flutter shut.

I grip her chin, and they snap open. “Piper,” I growl, pumping my hand into her again and again. “Do you like it?”

She doesn’t want to say, but then her body goes rigid and she has no choice. “Yes!”

That’s when I pull away.

Piper’s shaky legs nearly collapse underneath her. She looks up at me with murder in her eyes. “Wh-why did you stop?”

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