“Make me.”
He curled the hand at my neck into my hair and tugged my head backward.
“Make me stop, Gia.”
His voice came dangerously low, a warning.
A challenge.
I watched him, hating the weakening in my legs as he slid his now slippery fingers inside me.
“Look at you. You’re one woman. You’re no match for me, and I don’t have some twisted vendetta against you. How do you plan on fighting Scava’s army off?”
“I’m going,” I hissed through gritted teeth.
“I like your fight, Gia. I do. But you need to learn to listen.”
“What are you going to do, whip my ass again to make me?”
He rubbed the length of his cock against me, and I felt every inch of his hardness even through the barrier of clothes.
“Maybe.”
He kissed me hard before twisting my head so his mouth was at my ear.
“But I don’t think I need to.”
Fingers slid into my pussy, then traveled back toward my ass, smearing my arousal over it. I sucked in a ragged breath.
“I think, in fact, fucking your ass will be much more effective than whipping it, and I might like it even more.”
He turned my face to his again.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
I had to close my eyes when he began to play with my clit again.
“You wanted my attention. You’ve got it.”
He released my neck and tugged the dress up and over my head, tearing it a little as he forced it off me.
“You’re playing with fire, little girl.”
He threw the dress aside and looked down at me standing before him in borrowed bra and panties. He tore the bra away then met my gaze again.
“And if you’re not very careful, you’re going to get burned.”
He reached down and took my nipple into his mouth while working my panties off.
“Stop,” my voice came out weak. “I don’t want this.”
“I think you do.”
He rose up again to look at me.
“You want me, Gia. As fucked up as it is, you want me.”
“I don’t.” It didn’t even sound convincing to me.
