Silence fills the space between us, stretching and crackling and building second by second, breath by breath.
She sits inches from me, her chest heaving. The adrenaline crashes through her system, looking for an outlet.
"Come here," I order.
She scrambles across the seat and doesn't hesitate. She crawls into my lap, straddling me, her hands tangling in my hair before she’s even settled.
She kisses me.
It’s not a soft kiss. It’s violent. Teeth and tongue and desperation. She tastes like the future, like the sweetest sin.
A groan rips from my throat as my hands slide under her dress and grip her hips, bruising her skin. I want to leave marks. I want her to look at her body tomorrow and remember exactly who owns it.
"You liked it," I accuse against her bruised mouth. "Watching him bleed."
"I hated it," she gasps, grinding down on my lap. She’s so wet, she’s drenched my pants.
"You loved the power," I correct, ripping open her coat. "You loved seeing what men are capable of when the rules are stripped away."
My fingers are rough as I shove her dress up to her waist. I don't bother with finesse.
"Gabriel," she chokes out and I snap.
A quick adjustment frees my cock. I’m hard as granite, aching to bury myself in her. The violence in the ring was just foreplay. This is the main event.
Her hips rise as I impale her.
She moans, the sound swallowed by my mouth as I kiss her again.
I thrust deep, hard and fast. There is no gentleness here. This is possession. This is reclaiming her from the world, from her past, from the man who didn't know what to do with a woman like her.
"Did you think about Ryder when that man’s nose broke?" I demand.
"No," she sobs.
"Good." My teeth sink into her neck, right over her pulse point. "Did you think about me?"
"Yes."
"Did you think about what I could do to him?"
She freezes for a second, her eyes flying open.
"Tell me," I snarl, not stopping the rhythm. "Tell me you want me to be your monster."
"I want it," she whispers, then louder. "I want you to hurt him. I want you to burn it all down."
That breaks me.
The admission that she’s just as twisted as I am, that she craves the darkness as much as the light, shatters my control.
The rhythm becomes brutal, the car rocking on its suspension. My hands bruise her hips, forcing her to take every inch of me.
"You're mine," I chant, a litany of ownership. "My darkness. My light. My ruin."
She shatters around me, her internal muscles clamping down on my cock, milking me dry.
Release hits me, pouring myself into her for the second time tonight. It’s an exorcism. It drains the violence out and replaces it with something heavier.
