I can’t stop the way my body responds—hips pressing forwards, desperate for friction. I hate myself for it, hate how he’s turned my fear into something twisted and addictive.
He moves his hand from my throat to the back of my neck, holding me steady as he drags his lips down my jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin just below my ear. “You think you can keep pretending you don’t want this?” he whispers. “Even now, you’re soaking for me. You can barely stand. You need it so badly, it’s pathetic.”
My hands push against his chest, but he just pins my wrists against the wall, his mouth tracing a line down my neck. “Do you know how many nights I’ve watched you squirm in your bed, trying to make yourself feel good, but never getting it right?” he murmurs. “Pathetic little spider, all tangled up in her own desires. You needed me to teach you how to fall apart.”
Tears prick my eyes, and I hate how right he is—how his touch burns even through the shame. “You can’t just?—”
He cuts me off, his lips slanting over mine, devouring me, rough and claiming. I gasp against his mouth, and he pushes his tongue past my lips, tasting me. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me tight against him, grinding his hips into mine.
My mind screams to fight, but my body betrays me—knees going weak, back arching to get closer, lips parting to let him in. He pulls away just enough to whisper against my mouth. “You taste like desperation.”
My breath hitches, and he bites down on my lower lip, hard enough to sting. “You’re mine,” he growls, hands moving to the hem of my sweatshirt, yanking it up and over my head, leavingme bare from the waist up. I cross my arms over my chest, but he shoves them away, pinning them above my head with one hand.
His gaze rakes over me, dark and possessive. “Don’t hide from me. You gave yourself to me the second you let me in. Now take it.”
He lowers his mouth to my collarbone, teeth grazing my skin, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. I can’t stop the moan that slips out, and he laughs against my skin. “There you are. I knew you’d give in eventually.”
His free hand slides down my stomach, dipping below the waistband of my sweatpants again, and I can’t help but whimper when his fingers find me already wet and sensitive. “You’re shaking,” he whispers, lips brushing my ear. “But you’re not pushing me away. You’re pressing closer. You like it rough, don’t you? You like being forced to feel it.”
I try to twist my wrists free, but his grip tightens, and he presses his body against mine, keeping me pinned. “Say it,” he demands. “Say you want me.”
I can’t. I can’t say it. Tears spill down my cheeks, but I can’t stop rocking my hips against his hand, desperate and needy.
He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his own blazing with that cruel, addictive intensity. “Say it, or I’ll stop.”
The threat makes me gasp, and I can’t help the broken sound that escapes. “Please…”
He leans closer, his lips ghosting over mine. “Please what?”
My voice comes out in a whisper, cracked and helpless. “Please… don’t stop.”
He grins, triumphant and dark, kissing me hard enough to bruise. His hand moves faster, fingers curling inside me, and I arch off the wall, every nerve alight. “That’s it,” he growls. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”
My body shatters around him, and I can’t stop the way I scream his name, tears streaking my face. He kisses the soundright out of me, swallowing my cries, holding me so tightly I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.
And as the tremors rack through me, I know I’m lost.
I didn’t just let him in.
I wanted him to consume me.
CAPTER EIGHT
RAVEN
The room is too quiet, the silence that presses down on me, suffocating. My clothes lay scattered across the floor, and I still had my back against the wall, with my knees drawn to my chest. I can’t stop shaking, every muscle aching from how tightly I’d clenched.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, head tilted down like he’s deep in thought. His presence is a weight I can’t shake off, a darkness that’s seeped into my bones.
I should move. I should scream. I should do something. But I can’t. My body is too heavy, too exhausted, too… satiated. I hate that part most of all—the way my skin still hums, even though my mind is a storm of guilt and confusion.
He finally looks up, eyes cutting through me, like he can see every thought I’m too scared to voice. “You still shaking, Little Spider?”
I bite my lip, refusing to answer, but he just smirks, stretching out his legs, unhurried and unapologetic. “You’re not scared anymore, are you?”
I glare at him, but it’s weak, pathetic. He sees right through it. “You wanted that,” he continues, voice low and rough. “You needed it. You can keep lying to yourself, but your body doesn’t lie. It never does.”
My hands clench into fists, nails biting into my palms. “You don’t know anything about me.”
