Page 252 of Fractured Allegiance

The kiss burns like fire pressed to skin. My spine arches against the dresser, my wrists straining against his hold, but I don’t stop. I don’t want to. Every part of me aches with the wrongness of it, and with the need that coils deeper every second.

“Say it,” he growls against my mouth. “Say you need me.”

I bite his lip hard enough to taste blood. “I hate you.”

His eyes blaze, his body grinding closer, pinning me harder. “Then hate me louder.”

And when his mouth crushes mine again, I do.

His mouth devours mine until my lungs feel starved, until I can’t tell where fury ends and hunger begins. His grip on my wrists tightens, the dresser rattling against the wall when I arch against it. My pulse is a war drum in my throat, my body screaming even as my mind claws at reason.

“You think you hate me?” His words scrape against my mouth, his breath hot, his teeth catching my lower lip. “Prove it.”

I buck against him, wrists twisting, but his strength is unrelenting. His hand engulfs both of mine, the other slidingdown to clamp at my hip, dragging me closer into the press of his body. He’s hard already, a heavy, insistent pressure against my thigh, and the shock of it rips a gasp out of me.

He seizes it. His tongue pushes back into my mouth, swallowing the sound, making it his.

I try to hold on to anger, but it fractures under the burn of his touch. His palm slides up my ribcage, rough fingertips grazing the side of my breast through the thin fabric of my shirt. My body betrays me, arching into the heat, chasing it before I can stop myself.

His mouth tears from mine, dragging down my jaw, my throat. He bites hard enough at the juncture of neck and shoulder that I cry out. His tongue follows, soothing, then sharper again as he sucks a bruise into my skin. Claiming. Branding.

My stomach knots, my thighs clench, and I hate myself for the flood of heat between my legs.

His free hand slips lower, dragging up my thigh, shoving my legs apart with a brutal impatience. His knuckles press between them, grinding against the fabric of my jeans until the friction sparks white in my vision.

“Silas—” It tears out of me raw, half warning, half plea.

He lifts his head, eyes feral, his lips wet and swollen. “Say my name like that again.”

The pressure between my thighs intensifies as his fingers press harder, dragging over the seam. I bite back a moan, but it breaks free anyway, muffled, desperate.

“You don’t hate me.” His voice is iron. His fingers slide up, tugging at the button of my jeans. “You need me.”

I’m shaking my head, but my hips rock against his hand. My wrists strain in his grip, not to get free but to hold on tighter.

“Say it,” he demands, the button snapping open, his hand sliding inside. The heat of his palm presses through the thin barrier of my underwear, his fingers dragging over soaked fabric. “Say you need me.”

“I—” The word sticks in my throat, my pride choking me even as my body melts. He circles my clit with his fingertip, slow and devastating, and I break. “I need you.”

His groan rips through the air, his mouth crashing back to mine, his kiss rougher, hungrier, triumphant. His hand plunges deeper, pulling the fabric of my panties aside, sliding into wet heat.

My head slams back against the wall, a strangled cry escaping me. His tongue swallows it whole, his fingers fucking into me with ruthless precision. Every thrust feels like a promise he means to carve into me, unrelenting.

I’m trembling, nails digging crescent moons into my palms where he still pins my wrists. The room tilts, the dresser groans under our weight, and I’m drowning in the sound of his growl against my mouth, the slick rhythm of his fingers inside me.

“You’re mine,” he rasps, curling his fingers, dragging me higher. “Every time you come, you remember it’s me. Not Drazen. Not Elias. Me.”

The orgasm slams into me so hard I bite his lip to keep from screaming. My whole body clenches, breaks, then melts into his grip. He doesn’t stop. He fucks me through it, relentless, until I collapse against him, gasping, every nerve raw.

He frees my wrist and tears my jeans down in one rough pull, yanking them all the way off. His belt’s already undone, hiscock hard and heavy in his fist as he frees himself. My stomach flips at the sight, thick and swollen, veins pulsing.

He lifts me onto the dresser like I weigh nothing, shoving my legs apart with his hips. His cock drags over my entrance once, slick with me, teasing, threatening. His eyes pin mine, unyielding, daring me to look away.

“Say it again.”

“I need you.” My voice breaks. My pride is gone.

He thrusts into me in one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt. The sound I make is a strangled sob, his cock splitting me wide, filling me so deep I swear I’ll never get him out again.