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I met his gaze. "Did you know choking is the new dozen roses?" His hand around my throat made me wet as hell. "Doing it just means you care."
His fingers tightened.
I had to suppress a moan. If he pulled me onto the top of the desk and fucked me, I'd be one hundred percent into it.
We both knew it.
He dropped his hand. "I wouldn't want you to think I care, when I don't." His tone was harsh, but rough with need.
I couldn't see past the back of the chair. I didn't need to. I knew his cock would be rock hard. I tried not to picture it, or imagine how it would feel if he slid it inside my body.
"Did you study delusion at uni? Because I know you don't hate me as much as you pretend to."
"Maybe I hate you more." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I might be pretending to be nice once in a while to keep the peace."
If that was the case, he wasn't good at it. Or maybe he had different ideas of being nice than I did. Mine usually didn't involve sneering, smirking and generally being an asshole.
I cocked my head. "I don't think you hate me at all. I think maybe for some reason, you hate yourself, but I don't think you hate me. No more than you hate Mannix or Ice."
"Why would I hate myself? I'm hot, smart and awesome." He smirked.
I wasn't going to feed his already inflated ego by agreeing with him.
"I don't know," I admitted. "Maybe because you don't have the same power Mannix does, or his father does. Maybe because you don't get to slice people up the way Ice does. Maybe for some other reason. Were you not cuddled enough as a kid?"
His eyes flicked to the side and I knew I hit a nerve.
"You know, whatever you need, we're here for you," I said gently. "You don't always have to put up the tough guy act."
That brought his chin up. "Who says it's an act?"
"I haven't studied as much psychology as you have, but it's always an act," I said. "Underneath every exterior is a vulnerable person. Even yours. Even Mannix and Ice. Even me."
"It's not an act." His chin dipped slightly.
There was definitely a scared little boy under there somewhere. He'd lived so long in an environment where you don't show fear, in case someone used it against you. He'd suppressed it like the others had, but it was there.
What would it take to bring it out the rest of the way? And would he hate me if I saw it? Legitimately hate me, I mean.
I shrugged. "If you say so."
"I do say so. I'm starting to think I was right about you. You're a pain in the ass."
"Funny, I was thinking the same about you." He liked to think he was a big, bad, tough dude, and he was, but deep down there was a lot more to Ares Turner than he showed people.
He grunted. "I didn't hear you complaining about what I was doing to your ass the other day. In fact, you seemed to be enjoying yourself. Did you like the way I touched your tits? I know I left bruises on them."
I quickly glanced down and then back up again.
"I did like it," I said. "But the bruises have almost gone."
He glanced down too. "Shame. I must not have applied enough pressure. They should have lasted much longer than that."
I waited until he looked back up to speak again. "You'd like to leave more on them, wouldn't you? You get pleasure out of giving other people pain. Do you like getting it in return? Do you like being spanked, or do you want to be the one doing the spanking?"
The way his pupils contracted was all the answer I needed.
He leaned forward again. "If I spanked you, the bruises would last a lot longer. You'd be lucky if you could sit down for a month."
