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She stays.

That’s her mistake.

My fingers curl around her wrist, dragging her down until she’s straddling me, her thighs tight against my hips, her breath catching, betraying her.

She doesn’t pull away.

She should.

But in her eyes, I see the hunger she doesn’t want to admit.

The defiance and hate she’s using to keep herself sane.

She wants me as much as she wants to kill me.

And I want her to try.

Her fingers trail down my throat, over my collarbone, stopping just above the my heart.

Too light.

Too goddamn cruel.

She’s taunting me.

I shouldn’t want it this much.

The need I have for her is clawing at me.

And I’m done pretending I don’t.

She gasps as my lips bite their way down her neck, her body arching beneath me, her skin flushed and alive under my hands. The sound of fabric tearing echoes in the room as her tunic gives way, and my fingers trace the curve of her ribs, her waist, her hip.

“You’re—” She starts, but I cut her off with a sharp kiss, her words dissolving into a moan that vibrates against my tongue.

“Don’t talk,” I growl, my voice rough, my breath ragged. “Don’t ruin this.”

Her nails dig into my shoulders as I yank her pants down her legs, the fabric pooling at her ankles before I kick them away.

She’s bare now, every inch of her exposed, and I take my time drinking her in—the curve of her thighs, the dip of her waist, the way her chest rises and falls with every labored breath.

I rip the offending fabric on my body, never taking my eyes off her. I’m mesmerized.

“You’re staring,” she says, her voice low, dangerous.

“You’re mine to stare at,” I reply, my fingers trailing up her leg, stopping at the gash she earned earlier. Blood wells up, and I press my thumb into it, making her hiss.

“You’re a bastard,” she mutters, but her thighs part further, her hips lifting off the ground in silent invitation.

“Tell me to stop,” I say, my voice a challenge, my cock hard and aching as I hover above her. “Tell me, and I might but we both know you want it. Crave it.” I rub my cock against her inner thigh and we both moan.

“I’m going to fuck you hard and deep,” I groan, my eyes almost rolling back.

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s no hesitation in them. No fear. Only defiance. Only hunger.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she whispers, her hands sliding down my back, her nails leaving trails of fire in their wake.

I brush my cock against her pussy, the heat of her slickness making me shudder, my body trembling on the edge of release before I’ve even begun. A low, guttural moan escapes me, raw and unfiltered, and she echoes it, her voice breaking as her nails dig into my shoulders.