Page 96

It was sudden, greedy, and deep.
She jerked back instantly, her eyes wide with shock and fire. “What the hell are you doing?!” she snapped, fury flaring in her gaze.
But he didn’t flinch. His body remained close, his breath warm against her skin as his lips brushed the curve of her neck.
“You’re the one who jumped on me,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing—yet there was a heat behind it.
Her fists pounded weakly against his chest. “Don’t do that,” she hissed. “Don’t take advantage of—”
But before she could finish, her eyes darted past his shoulder.
“Ahhh! Another cockroach!” Anya’s scream cracked like glass, her voice trembling as she clung to him with desperate fingers, nails digging into his skin. Her entire body shook—part fear, part something deeper, more frantic. “What’s going on?! Why are there so many?!”
The cockroaches skittered relentlessly across the cold tiles, shadows darting beneath the dim, flickering light. Her heart pounded, and her breath hitched against his chest, but she refused to let go.
He pressed closer, his warmth engulfing her, the sharp scent of his cologne mingling with the damp, musty air. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, voice low, thick with something raw and possessive. “Then hold on to me tightly if you don’t want me to drop you.”
Her teeth clenched fiercely. “Don’t you dare—”
“Don’t drop your legs,” he murmured, voice dipping deeper.
Without warning, his body shifted, hips thrusting forward with brutal precision. Anya’s breath caught, a sharp gasp torn from her throat as she froze, wide-eyed and breathless. “You—”
Before she could finish, his hand was on her dress, fingers gripping the delicate fabric and yanking it up in one swift, ruthless motion. The cool air slammed against her heated skin, making her shiver, but it was nothing compared to the next assault of sensation—his fingers sliding under the thin lace of her panties, pressing firmly against the slick heat already pooling between her legs.
Two fingers moved slowly, circling, teasing, sending shivers crawling down her spine, arching her back against him despite herself.
“Stop it,” she snapped, voice sharp but unsteady, hands pushing against his chest with weak protest. “I said stop.”
He froze, his arms loosening just enough for her body to slump against his.
Panic flared in her eyes as they flicked down to the floor, her breath trembling. “Don’t—don’t let me go!”
The cockroaches still crawled, ugly and revolting, and the thought of her bare feet touching that floor made her cling tighter, nails biting into his shoulders as if he were the only solid thing left.
A cruel smirk curved his lips, dark and teasing as he dipped his head, lips brushing the shell of her ear again, his breath hot, dangerous. “Then pay the price if you want me to hold you.”
Her breath hitched, trembling on the edge of a plea. “What?”
“You heard me,” he whispered, voice low and slow, wrapping around her like smoke in a dark room. “I don’t do charity, sweetheart.”
Her glare was fierce, lips quivering with a mix of frustration and something unspoken.
He watched her like a predator, eyes locked on every twitch, every flicker of hesitation in her gaze. Her breath trembled, chest rising and falling in uneven waves, and still, he waited—until her lashes fluttered, just once. That was all the permission he needed.
His fingers moved again, slower this time. More soft. They pressed and circled with dark intent, dragging against that sensitive spot that made her jaw clench and her breath stutter into silence. She bit her lip hard, trying to smother the sound building in her throat, but he saw it. The silent giveaway—theway her grip tightened on his shoulders, the tremble in her thighs.
He leaned in, eyes burning into hers.
Then he moved.
In a flash, she found herself pinned against the wall. Her wrists were caught above her head, locked in one of his hands. The cold surface at her back sent a jolt through her spine, but the heat pressing against her front was hard. His other hand slid under the waistband of her panties, fingers curving downward with no patience left between them.
She gasped, body jerking as his fingers plunged into her—deep and slow, then rough, every movement rough and punishing. Her thighs clamped around his waist, involuntary, instinctive, trying to pull him closer, ground herself somehow, but there was no safety here. Only him. Only this.
Her head fell back against the wall with a soft thud. Her breath came in shallow pants. She hated him—God, she hated him—but her body betrayed her, welcoming his touch like it had been aching for it.
His mouth brushed along her jaw, then down to her throat, lips hot and barely touching. His voice was a sinful whisper against her skin. “Say stop,” he murmured, low and dark. “Say it… and I’ll let go.”