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Crawl.

He’s talking about recreating it.

“No.” As if denying him would do me any good. As if refusing him will make my nipples any less hard. “No.”

“I have the keys to your handcuffs.” I’m drawn to his hand patting one pocket of his pants. “I’ll take them off. I’ll get you the food you’re so desperate for. If…”

A pause. The bastard is making me wait. Making me hope he might change his mind.

“If?” I ask when I can’t take it anymore.

“If you crawl to me.”

“Ha.” I put everything into my fake laugh. “You’re more delusional than I thought.” Fight. Fight. Fight. I have to fight. Even now. Even when he hauls me to my feet by the collar of my dress. “I won’t beg,” I growl, tipping my face up to meet his glare. “Won’t crawl to you. I won’t.”

“Topher would’ve pushed you to your hands and knees. Would’ve forced you.” What he doesn’t say is that he won’t do it. Won’t use his body and strength to demean me.

There are other methods in James Hawthorne’s arsenal.

Creative ones. Hotter ones.

The wrong ones.

“And you?”

I’m being slammed into the wall. James grinds his hips into me. He can’t help it any less than I can silence my moan.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Even my damn hands betray me, my fingers curling to grasp at his shirt.

Fuck.

“Crawl to me.” He slides his hand to my jaw, applying the slightest pressure to angle my head to the right. Pressing his lips to the pulse point in my neck. “Crawl to me, and you’ll eat. Crawl to me, and I’ll go easier on you.”

Goosebumps spread across my skin. A tremor builds at the base of my spine, rising higher and higher.

James smiles against my neck. Parts his lips. Sinks his teeth into my flesh.

“No,” my mouth says. The rest of me says so muchyes. I arch my back, tilting my head to the side to offer James more of me. “Do whatever you want. Starve me to death. Punish me. I won’t crawl to you.”

“Hmm.” The way he sucks on my skin, I know it’ll leave a mark. “If that’s what you want.” His lips go higher as his free hand bunches my dress up my thighs. “Sweet property like you.”

His tongue swirls around that spot below my ear. His thumb strokes the lips of my pussy through my panties. I think I’m dying. Or I will if he keeps doing this to me. If I come face-to-face with him again.

Oh God, it’s mortifying. I cry from the humiliation, but fuck, it doesn’t stop me from rolling my hips on his hand.

“I need you,” I whisper, shame drenching my voice.

“Crawl.” He breathes hard when he tears himself from me. “And you’ll have me.”

“Please.” God, fuck, why am I so pathetic? Why do I need to come this badly? “Please, James.”

“Better, though it isn’t what I’m aiming for.” His hands are warm on mine as he unlocks the handcuffs. “I’ll be back soon. See if you’ve had a change of heart.”

With the cuffs in his grip, he walks out the door. Flips the lock. Cages me again.

I’m empty. Wet.

Indignant as hell.