I honestly have no idea other than the fact that my finger kind of hurts now.
And that alone should tell me to back down from this deadly hellhound of a man.
It’s just too bad that that logic hasn’t caught up with my rage yet.
“Cersia,” he whispers calmly, “do not finger fuck my chestagain.” His jaw, like my own, twitches with a hidden hinting aggression. It’s a warning sign like wolves’ hair lifting from the back of their neck just before they strike.
Fuck his aggression.
My arm rears back, and all the shaking emotional anger I’ve held onto for the past several hours storms forward with the tiniest little poke that holds so much meaning.
And that’s all it takes.
All that composure Zilo holds on to when I’m around comes crashing down as his arms grip around me, his chest collides with my body, and he spins me so fast the entire room is a blur of darkness. Until my cheek cracks against the smooth wall, and his chest presses down against my back. My hands are held tightly from behind in one of his big paws. A knee comes up high, and he separates my stance with a quick shove of his thigh between my legs. Steady fingers slide through my hair, and he tilts my head just the way he wants so his gaze is in my peripheral.
“You’re entirely too reckless for someone who can’t even manage her own beast within herself. Are you going to calm your little ass down now?” His voice is so mellow and at ease it just pisses me off how much harder I’m breathing.
“Fuck you and your obsession with my ass.” I literally spit at him. Of course, my retaliation spittle just falls against my own shoulder, but it feels good to do it anyway.
His grip against my hair as well as my wrists tightens, and he pulls my head back against him while crushing my hips into the wall. My mouth falls open from how hard he’s angling my throat. The rough brush of his beard skims along my jawline.
“If your attitude threatens our plans, I won’t ask the others for advice. I’ll kill you to save ourselves. I won’t hesitate.”
I barely move against his hold, but ever so slightly I twist my wrists, adjusting just subtly and just enough to rock the curve of my ass against the most sensitive part of this insensitive man.
And then I’m speechless for another reason.
The hardness that grinds up against me as he pushes me down once more must be a surprise for him as much as it is for me.
Because he shuts right the fuck up.
And yet, he’s too arrogant to release me.
So he clears his throat harshly, but he keeps his hard length snuggled nicely against my ass. And I bite back the laugh lodged in my throat at how much he can curse and stomp around and fight anyone who might threaten his poor fragile ego.
But one nice ass is all it takes for him to lose his composure.
I mean, it is an ass blessed by the Goddess, but come on, man.
My spine arches from how hard I lift up and then ever so slowly lower back down.
“Stop,” he grinds out.
And I too grind.
All. Over. Again.
With force, he pulls my hair and yanks me harder. I gasp, and I think that just makes it—yeah, it makes it harder for him…
“I said stop it!”
“Then stop fucking tormenting your friends!” I growl right back at him.
“That’s not what we’re talking about, and you know it!” he whisper-screams in my ear, all hot and bothered and so, so sexy.
“Really? Then what are we talking about, Zilo? Tell me.” My fingers spread wide, and I’m shocked at how slow he is to pull away as my nails drag over the hard outline in his pants. But he does pull away. He puts so much space between us I bet he’d solicit the Goddess herself to take pity on his hellish soul and pull him away from this realm entirely if he could.
A tic in his jaw pulses with rage or lust, or maybe that’s his disturbing orgasm face for all I know. But he’s definitely fuming at me, for good or bad reasons is anyone’s guess.
