Would she hide or would she fight?
He really hoped she went for the second option. A damn good tussle would give him the opportunity to rip those peachy pants off her perfect ass, shred the T-shirt covering her beautiful breasts. She wasn’t quite a match for him physically—he was considerably heavier, definitely fitter and stronger, but he wasn’t going up against a lightweight with no spirit.
If she chose fight, he’d have a struggle on his hands.
Just the thought of it made his balls ache.
Submission was a precious thing when given freely. Something fragile to be cradled and cherished, a crystalornament held in unworthy hands, when it belonged to the woman he loved.
When it was won in a fight, it was a darker, sweeter entity.
Still whistling, he checked the bathroom first, already sure she wasn’t in there. Too few places to hide, nowhere for her to lay in wait and ambush him if she was inclined. The kitchen and guest bedroom, the storage closets, were all quiet and still.
“Bennie, Bennie, Bennie,” he sang. “If you come out now and kneel, I’ll go easier on you. Every minute I spend looking for you is an extra minute I’ll take back with my cock up your ass. The longer you make me wait, the worse this will be for you.”
With only the bedroom left, he swung the door open and stepped inside, sniffing the air. The room vibrated with energy—anxious, fearful, excited energy. He slammed the door shut, his gaze landing on the closet. “Trapped like the scared little mouse you are. No way out now, Bennie, and I’m done being lenient. Whatever you get, you earned it.”
Movement caught the corner of his eye; he just wasn’t quick enough to dodge the belt before it cracked over his ass with a meaningful crack, followed by a searing stripe of heat burning into his flesh. Even as he shouted in French, Violet jumped on his back, hooking an arm around his neck.
Her other hand slid down his chest, her fingers latching onto his nipple. She sicced her nails into it, twisting and pulling. “How bad do you think it’s going to get foryou?”
Oh, she’d declared war.
No holds barred, then.
Gripping the arm around his neck with one hand, Reaux marched to the bed and flipped her over his shoulder. He hissed as her nails detached from his flesh, then studied the beads of red welling from the small wounds. “I gave you a chance to play nice, Violet. Could’ve just stayed still and taken it, but now… oh, now you’ve made me angry.”
Flat on her back, slightly winded, she glared up at him. “And?”
“You won’t like me angry.”
She made a taunting noise in her throat, then rolled onto her hands and knees. Dark hair tumbled over her face until he caught only a glimpse of her eyes through the locks. She looked savage, primal, like a gorgeous cavewoman ready to tackle her next meal. “Touch me and I’ll kill you.”
A sudden thought struck him. Did she need this? Not the sharp, threatening dialogue or CNC, but the opportunity to beat the tar out of him. Did sheneedto hurt him physically in order to recompense herself for the pain he’d caused her heart?
It seemed she might; she wasn’t falling into the victim role as he’d anticipated for a CNC scene. She’d run, but she’d most definitely chosen fight over hiding. Antagonizing, combative…
He added pretty fucking vicious to the list when she swiped those nails down his thigh, much like a cat once it stopped warning a stroking hand to cease and desist. He glanced down at the marks rising quickly along his skin—had she been aiming for his dick?
His love for her, all of her, expanded again.
“Only gonna hurt yourself more,” he told her in a cold voice. “Maybe when I’m done with you, I won’t let you go. Just keep you tied up with a collar around your throat, chain you to the bed, and turn you into my private, personal painslut. Hmmm, with that fire and attitude, I’ve got a few friends who’d happily flog the sass out of you.”
She bared her teeth. “Try it, asshole.”
Reaux feinted a move toward her hair, smacked her curled fingers away when she lashed out at him again, and hooked his hand in the front of her T-shirt. He yanked her forward harshly, feeling the stitching rip a little, and yanked again harder.
The shirt ripped along the shoulder seam and down her chest, exposing one full, pebbled breast. “Don’t even get me startedon what I’m going to do to your asshole, Violet.” A third and final yank tore the rest of the shirt all the way to the bottom hem; he pulled the ruined garment off her without ceremony or gentleness. “By the time I’ve stretched it open, everyone in a five-mile radius will know it’s mine.”
She grabbed his wrist with both hands, trying to pull him off-balance, but he just countered and pushed her onto her back again. He snagged her ankles, hauling her to the end of the mattress, then grunted as one foot kicked him in the stomach and the other came perilously close to decapitating his pride and joy, striking high on his pubic bone.
“It will never be yours,” she spat.
“I was saving it for tonight,” he murmured, locking her legs together and pinning them up the front of his chest before she achieved some real damage to his person. “But now I’m thinking, bad girls don’t get slow, easy, gentle anal.” His accent thickened dangerously, becoming a vocal weapon. “They learn how to scream through their punishment and take a cock in their ass with a polite apology and athank you, Sirat the end.”
“Like hell!” Eyes wide and frantic, she reared up, trying to gouge whatever she could reach on him. With her legs pinned straight up, she didn’t have a lot of leeway; her arms were flailing wildly without making contact. “Fuck you, Reaux! Fuck you!”
“Au contraire, Bennie. It is I who shall be fuckingyou.” He glanced at the bedside cabinet and smirked. “Let’s see what the Mistress hides in her naughty drawer, shall we? Perhaps something to ease the sting of violation.”
