Smart girl.
Her silence is the only thing that saves her from a worse punishment—because if she begged, I’d deny her again. If she cried, I’d feed her those tears and smile.
Instead, I lean in until my mouth is at her throat and I whisper it.
The truth.
“I bought you.”
She jerks like I slapped her.
But I keep going.
“Not from a man. From the system. From every desperate hand that passed you like property. Every foster file, every therapy report, every fucker who gave up trying to fix you. You were never a girl to them—you were a liability, a risk, a future cautionary tale.”
My lips graze her temple now, cruel and quiet.
“I read every word. Paid every price. Burnt every copy.”
Now she struggles.
Now she fights.
Good.
Let her.
“I own every trace of you,” I breathe, tilting her face to mine with a grip so gentle it mocks the violence in my voice. “And I’ll take what’s mine. Whenever I want. However I want.”
I drag my cock along her entrance again—not pushing in, just threatening—and feel her legs try to close, her body shiver in fury and need and humiliation.
She hates me.
She fucking hates me.
And I’ve never been more hard in my life.
“You don’t have to love me,” I whisper against her lips, not kissing her. Never kissing. “You don’t even have to like me.”
My mouth touches the shell of her ear again, the words barely a breath.
“You just have to break the way I want.”
Her breath stutters. Her legs are shaking now, trembling with so much restraint that I can see the ache etched into her bones. Her eyes are wild—glass splintering around the edges—and still, she fights it. Still, she holds back like she’s got some power left to cling to.
It makes me want to ruin her slower.
I grip her jaw, tilt her face until her lips part on instinct. Not for a kiss. Not for kindness. Just to see if she’ll breathe when I tell her to. I lean in, mouth at her ear, voice low and thick with the weight of control I know she’s starting to crave more than air.
“You want to cum, little thief?” I murmur, brushing the head of my cock against her—just a ghost of contact, a tease. Her hips twitch, spine arching, mouth falling open with a desperate sound she can’t hide. “You want to be filled like a good girl? Or do you want to keep pretending you hate this?”
Her nails rake against the sheets like she’s trying to claw her way out of her own skin, and I can see it now—the exact second the fight starts to crack. It’s not obedience. It’s surrender. It’s not a choice. It’s chemistry, built by pressure and time and fear and lust until her body doesn’t know how to say no anymore, even if her mind still wants to.
I slide in slowly—deep enough to make her gasp, deep enough to burn. And I don’t stop.
Her hands fist the sheets as I drag my cock against her soaking pussy, feeling her grip my cock so fucking tight, I almost lose my goddamn mind.
“That’s it,” I growl against her throat, biting hard enough to leave a mark. “You don’t get to choose this. You were mine the moment you walked into that room. You were mine the moment you looked at me like I couldn’t touch you.”
