I turn my head away, but he grips my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Look at me,” he demands, voice dropping to a dangerous rasp. “I want to see your face when I ruin you.”
His fingers press against my pussy, and I can’t suppress the moan that slips out. He smirks, pressing harder, grinding hispalm against me. “That’s it,” he purrs. “Good girl. Don’t pretend any more.”
I bite down on my lip, trying to muffle the sounds, but he leans in, biting down on my neck hard enough to leave a mark. “Let me hear it,” he whispers. “Let me hear how much you need it.”
His fingers slide inside, and I arch against him, a choked cry slipping free. He thrusts slowly, deliberately, eyes fixed on my face, drinking in every shiver and gasp.
“You hate me, don’t you?” he murmurs, his lips tracing my cheek. “Hate how I make you feel. Hate that I’m the one who makes you lose control. But you’ll take it, won’t you? You’ll let me break you, just to see what it feels like.”
I can’t stop the sob that tears free, but it’s mixed with a moan, and I hate that I’m already so close, his touch pushing me to the edge.
He thrusts harder, fingers curling, and I can’t help it—my body gives in, heat crashing through me, pleasure and shame tangled together.
He watches every second, his smirk sharp and satisfied. “You’re mine now,” he whispers. “And I’m not letting go.”
I collapse against the wall, trembling, and he presses a kiss to my throat, almost gentle, like he’s savouring the aftermath.
I know I should hate him. I know I should fight.
But as his hand trails over my cheek, wiping away my tears, I know that I’m too far gone.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever want to come back.
I’m pressed against the wall, and his fingers are still on my chin; my whole body shakes as his other hand slowly moves out of my sweatpants. I can’t catch my breath. Shame floods through me, mixing with the raw heat still pulsing between my thighs. I hate him. I hate the way his touch lingers even when he pulls away.
He wipes his fingers on my sweatshirt, smirking as he watches the way my eyes track his movements, like I’m caught in some sick, twisted trance. I should shove him away, fight back, scream. But I can’t. My legs are too weak, my mind too tangled with fear and need.
He leans in, brushing his lips against my temple, and I can’t help the shiver that rips through me.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, Little Spider,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous. “You keep fighting, but your body keeps begging.”
I try to turn my head away, but he doesn’t let me, his fingers tightening on my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes are darker now, narrowed, hungry.
“Say it,” he demands, lips brushing mine, his breath hot against my mouth. “Say you wanted this.”
My voice is barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of my own confusion. “I… I didn’t…”
He presses his thumb against my lips, silencing me, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t lie to me. You opened the door. You didn’t fight. You begged me without even saying it.”
My hands tremble as I try to push him back, but he barely budges, pressing his body closer until I feel every hard line of him, the heat seeping through his clothes. He dips his head, lips grazing my ear.
“Did it feel good when I made you cum?”
My throat tightens, and I clench my jaw, refusing to answer. His hand moves to my neck, fingers wrapping around my throat—not squeezing, just holding, a reminder of how easily he could crush me.
“Answer me, Raven.”
I choke out a breath, trying to find words, but he leans closer, his teeth grazing my earlobe.
“If you lie, I’ll know. If you’re honest, I might be nice. Just this once.”
My voice is barely more than a rasp. “Yes…”
He hums softly, pleased. His hand tightens just enough to make me gasp, his other hand sliding down to grip my hip, pulling me flush against him.
“Good girl. Admitting it wasn’t so hard, was it?”
