Page 31 of A Lethal Game of Trust

“That prick,” he growled, pulling our hands to rest on my lap. “He will never touch you again. Not as long as I live.”

There was the drama queen I’d loved tormenting. But with how deep his frown was, how his hand trembled in mine, nothing could make me upset him further.

“You’re angry,” I whispered. “You’re really angry.”

“No shit,” he seethed. “If I’d known— if I knew… you would have never been with him.”

I pulled my hand back. “What, you would have threatened him like you did to the boys in school?”

“No,” he said, as if my words repulsed him. “I would have killed him like I want to now.”

“You can’t run my life, Dominic.”

His eyes snapped up to mine. “But I should be able to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

He slammed his fist into the steering wheel. He lifted it to his mouth as he looked out the window, breathing heavily.

I put the blender between my feet, undid my seatbelt, and stroked his arm. “Dom,” I said quietly, “I need you to do something.”

He glanced at me, curious.

“Let me distract you. Take your anger out on me. Make it something else.”

The air between us thickened. His eyes roved over me, considering, as his hand fell to his lap. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do,” I said, sitting up straight and untangling our hands. Fuck, I really did know what I was saying. Consequences be damned. “Take your anger out on me. Please.”

Because no matter what had happened between us — how I had never understood his sudden hatred towards me — I knew he would never physically hurt me. When I had been taken that time by a low-level gang, he had been a mess.

He held his fists so tight, his knuckles paled. I took them and pulled them under my top where they immediately gripped my rib cage. His hands were warm against my skin.

“Dom, please—”

There had been more I intended to say, but he scooped me up and landed me on his lap, one of his hands on the back of my neck, slamming my mouth to his. His kiss was laced with need, with release to be free of the frustration under his skin. I wanted to cut him open, liberate him of the feeling. I wanted to be covered in all that was him.

I kissed him back with a vengeance as his other hand travelled up my back and unclasped my bra before he ravaged my breast, pulling, twisting my nipple. The pain only had me grinding on his lap, lost in his touch.

His tongue slipped into my mouth, melding with mine and I knew if I had made the wiser decision of wearing a skirt, I would have pushed my knickers aside and made a mess on his shorts, just to get closer to the hard length of him I rocked on.

When we finally came up for air, my head was spinning. We stayed there, breathing on each other’s faces as he guided me to keep grinding on him. His lips dipped to my throat and Iarched into him.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he promised before nipping my skin. “I’m going to ruin you.”

“Please,” I begged and he caught my mouth again, biting at my bottom lip until I felt the coppery twang of blood in my mouth. “Leave me sobbing.”

“I’ll leave you dripping,” he groaned, those hazel eyes intense on mine. “I’m going to cover you in my handprints, brand you as mine.”

“Yes,” I groaned, feeling his dirty words building heat in my core.

His teeth trapped my earlobe, his breathing so loud. “You want to be owned, controlled. You don’t want to think.”

I nodded and pushed him into his chair at the same time he pulled the lever and it scooted back, giving us more room.

“Dom, I need more,” I cried, pulling at his top.

“I’ll give you more, but not right now.”