Page 103 of Give In

There was a lot he’d shared and a lot to be surprised about. Subconsciously, I’d just assumed there was some horrible occurrence that’d made him enjoy the things he did.

His fist in my hair tightened until I yelped. “I like pushing to that razor thin edge between pleasure and pain, and then pushing a little further. I’m selfish and like manipulating to get exactly what I want. I like—no, I fuckinglovehaving you in the palm of my hand and knowing I can do what I want with you. How long did you play today, Eden? How long did you rub that tight little pussy, flick that hard clit? Was I all you thought about? Was it me touching you, my voice in your head taunting you with what you couldn’t have?Icontrol your orgasm. Your body. You. You’re my toy. My...”

“Marionette,” I supplied.

His eyes flared, blazing with more desire and need than I’d ever seen. I wasn’t sure what he’d read in the one word or my expression, but even I could tell it was something profound. Before I could ask or backtrack, he released his hold on my hair and took a small step away. He grabbed one of my hands—both, I belatedly realized, had been clutching at his shirt on his chest—and brought it down, pressing my palm against the heavy weight of his cock. It jerked at my touch, harder and thicker than I’d ever felt it.

And in that instant, everything changed. No amount of fight or bargaining or denial could ever bring us back to where we were.

Our back and forth.

My attitude and insults.

His stalkerific tendencies and my headstrong stubbornness.

Me.

He liked it all. Wanted it all.

Got off on it all.

For all his demands, it wasn’t my immediate, mindless obedience he wanted. He wanted me to stand tall against him.

And then he wanted me to give in.

As if reading my thoughts, Damien roughly rumbled, “I get off on the thought of breaking you. Tell me you don’t want it. That you don’t get wet and your pretty nipples don’t get hard.”

“And you’ll leave me alone?” The hurt at that thought hit me right in the chest, stealing my breath.

“Never. I’ll never walk away from you. But I’ll change.”

I gasped. “You’ll what?”

“I’m not saying I won’t fuck up, because I know I will. But I’ll try.”

My breath came hard and fast as I stood on the metaphorical precipice, but not between flight and fight.

It was flight or surrender.

I could leave. Turn and walk away from it all, leaving Massachusetts and Damien in my rearview mirror.

But if Damien was willing to change, I could stay and try. Strap on a safety harness and gingerly climb into the unknown.

Or I could jump. I could stop being a coward, stop worrying about school and my past and the wrongness.

I could give in to the dysfunction. To him.

Give in tous.

Inhaling deeply, I held my breath. And then I dove headfirst into the darkness. “I want this,” I said on an exhale, breathy yet firm. “I wantyou, Professor Caine.”

The small distance between us was closed in a blink, my hand trapped between us as Damien took my mouth. I tried to close my fingers around the bulge in his jeans.

“Don’t,” Damien bit out between kisses, removing my hand from him. His lips and teeth dragged down my jaw to my neck. “You touch me right now, this will be over way too fast.”

That heady sense of power made me feel like I was high. It was a rush like nothing I’d experienced before, and I wondered if it was similar to how Damien felt.

Cupping the back of my head in one hand and my ass in the other, he lifted me, hoisting me up his torso so he could kiss me as he walked. I wrapped my legs around him, holding tight not because I worried he’d drop me, but because his hard abs rubbing between my legs was heaven.