“Good,” I hiss, grinding against him.
He growls, one hand shooting to the back of my neck, pulling my face back to his.
“Don’t tempt me, Kira. You already owe me five-hundred thousand dollars, remember? I won’t hesitate to take your body as payment.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
That’s all it takes—he snaps.
His mouth finds mine again, messier this time. Less kissing, more consuming. Hands everywhere. Shirt lifted. Fingertips dragging across my bare skin. I tug at his waistband, fingers slipping under the hem, and he bites back a curse against my lips.
“Tell me to stop,” he pants, forehead pressed to mine, and I’m disappointed to hear him give me an out.
I drag my nails down his back. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
He doesn’t.
One hand wraps around the back of my neck, holding me in place as he rips his belt loose with the other. The leather snaps and my breath stutters.
He sees it and leans in, dragging his mouth down my jaw, his voice wrecked with uncertainty. “You’re shaking.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are,” he whispers against my skin. “And I don’t think your heart can take this.”
Me either.But I don’t tell him that. I want this, and he’s already stripping me and pushing my knees apart as if he owns the space between them. Like he ownsme.
Maybe he does. I do owe him five-hundred thousand dollars.
My body doesn’t know the difference between fear and lust, between pain and need. All I know is that I need him inside me like I need air. I need to forget everything that’s soon to come crashing down.
He frees himself and lines up, looking at me from under his brow—one last confirmation.
I nod.
He slams into me with no warning, deep and brutal, and I cry out, gripping the edge of the counter.
“Still think I’m not here for the same reason?” he growls, thrusting again, sharper this time.
I gasp, head falling back in pleasure, and laugh, high on his cock. “Fuck you.”
“Doing that already.” I can hear the smirk in his words. “And you’re welcome.”
He drags my hips to the edge, giving himself more room, more leverage. Each thrust is harder than the last, punishing and precise. His fingers dig into my thighs, bruising me. Marking me. And I can’t get enough.
“I hate you,” I pant.
“Lie.”
“I do—”
“Then why are you soaking for me?” He slams into me again, and I arch, choking on the moan I try to bite back. “Why are you clenching around me?”
“I don’t—” my voice breaks as he presses deeper, his pace slowing.
His body thrums, taut with tension as I feel the push and pull of every inch of him.
“You’re going to be mine, Kira.” His voice is a whisper against my mouth, almost tender. “You can lie all you want, but your body won’t.”
