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He walks me back until I’m up against the wall, and he’s kissing me as he covers my front, cool wall to my back. Our kisses become even more desperate, and I reach for his zipper. He’s doing the same, his hand sliding down the front of my jeans, fingers dipping into my panties, to find me needy and wet.
We never stop kissing as we touch one another. This is insane. It’s like some fumble behind the bleachers, but a hell of a lot hotter and darker.
Dom’s fingers push inside me, the heel of his hand pressing deliciously against my clit as he fingerfucks me, hard and desperate.
I take his swollen cock out of his jeans and jerk him almost angrily. I want him to come. I want him to hurt. I want him to feel good.
He tastes of heaven and hell all rolled into one. This is the man I hate, but I also crave him in this moment.
Lips leave mine to trail hot wet kisses along my jaw, biting as he goes, and then he’s sucking at my neck. I realize he’s going to leave a mark, but I can’t bring myself to care. He sucks so hard, I cry out at how good it feels.
God, I’m going to come. So fast? It feels depraved and wrong. With this awful man, his fingers inside me coated in his own blood, his cock hot and throbbing in my hand.
“I fucking hate you,” he whispers against my throat but his hot, wet kiss there feels like desperation and need.
“Ditto,” I say.
“Shit,” he groans. “I need to be inside you.”
He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around him as if I have no say in the matter. He carries me to the mattress. The mattress with a fucking knife and his blood on it. I need to stop this.
I can’t because I want it as much as he does. Maybe more.
He throws me down on the mattress and pulls his clothes off. I shimmy out of mine. My heart pounds with a mix of fear, desire, and excitement. I feel like I’m about to jump off a cliff into deep, deep waters.
This is insane. I’ve lost my mind. I’ve most certainly lost my morals. How did I end up in this literal den of iniquity, giving myself to the king devil himself?
“You’re such a pain in my ass,” Dom says as he crawls over me.
“Yeah, and you’re like a thorn in my side. I can’t dig you out even though I want to.”
“You’re such a stuck-up bitch,” he growls as he bites my shoulder.
“You’re such a fucking douche,” I reply as I dig my nails into his ass so hard, I know I’ll leave marks.
“Bite me again,” he says.
There’s a hard-edge desperation to the command.
I bend my head and bite his muscular pec.
“Fuck,” he yells.
I stare in shock at the blood blooming there. “I’m sorry.”
I try to kiss it better, but he roughly pushes my face away.
“I like it. I don’t want your soft kisses, or your fucking, stuck-up, Duchess pity. Give me your hate, Mackenzie. Every last drop of it.”
I push his shoulder and slap at it. The crack of skin against skin rings out through the air.
“That’s it,” he hisses. “Fight me.”
He laughs as I hit him.
“Is that the best you’ve got?”
I scream and really start to punch at his shoulders and chest, and he lets me. He grins at one particularly hard blow, but I know I’m not truly hurting him. Not the way he did to himself with the knife.
