"Fuck you," she gasps, even as her body clenches around my fingers.
I withdraw my hand completely, leaving her empty and desperate. In one swift motion, I grab her by the throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes widen.
"I'll ruin you 'til ye only answer to my name."
"Finn—" she chokes out, her nails digging half-moons into my wrist.
I drag her to me by her throat, crashing my mouth into hers. The knife clatters to the floor as I lift her, slamming her back against the nearest wall. Her legs wrap around my waist instinctively, her ruined dress bunching between us.
"You want to fight?" I growl against her mouth. "Then fight. But know this—you'll lose. And you'll thank me for it."
I tear at what remains of the lace, exposing her completely. My hands are everywhere—rough, demanding, leaving marks that will bloom purple by morning. I want everyone to see them, want her to feel me with every movement tomorrow.
"I hate you," she gasps as I bite down on her shoulder, hard enough to break skin.
"No," I murmur against the wound, licking the copper taste from her flesh. "You hate that you love me. Different thing entirely."
I carry her to the nearest table, sweeping everything to the floor with one arm. Glass shatters. I don't care. I throw her down, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while the other works my belt free.
"Look at me," I command, squeezing her throat until her eyes lock with mine. The pulse beneath my palm hammers wildly, a frantic bird trying to escape. "I want to see your face when you finally surrender."
I free myself, hard and aching, pressing against her entrance but not pushing in. Not yet… I want her desperate first. Begging.Broken.
"Is this what you wanted?" I growl, rubbing my length against her slick heat. "To be thrown down and taken like you belong to me?"
She tries to arch against me, seeking friction, but I hold her down with my weight. My grip on her throat tightens just enough to make her gasp, her pupils blown wide with arousal.
"Say it," I demand. "Say you're mine."
"I'm not saying shit," she spits, defiance blazing even as tears leak from the corners of her eyes.Beautiful, stubborn thing.
I laugh darkly, moving my hips just enough to tease her. "Then I won't give you what you need."
My free hand finds her breast, pinching her nipple hard enough to make her cry out. I lower my mouth to the hollow of her throat, tasting salt and perfume as my teeth mark a vicious path down to her collarbone. "You've always been stubborn," I breathe against her skin. "Always fighting what we both know is true."
I thrust into her without warning, burying myself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. She screams—not in pain but in savage relief—her body arching beneath mine, taking all of me like she was made for this.For me.
"Christ," I growl, my grip on her throat tightening instinctively. "So fucking perfect."
Her eyes roll back, lashes fluttering as I squeeze just enough to make her lightheaded. The sight of her—pinned beneath me, throat in my hand, body stretched around my cock—ignites something primal in my chest.
"Look at you," I rasp, beginning to move. "Taking me so well. Like your body remembers who it belongs to."
I don't start slow, don't build. I drive into her with everything I have, each thrust punctuated with the sound of skin against skin, the table creaking beneath us. Her nails rake down my back, tearing through my shirt.She wants to hurt me? Good.I want her to feel everything—the pain, the pleasure, the impossible truth that we've always belonged to each other.
"You're mine," I pant against her ear, my voice wrecked with need. "Say it."
She shakes her head, stubborn even as her body betrays her, clenching around me with each thrust.
"Say it," I demand again, grinding deeper, angling to hit that spot that makes her eyes roll back.
Her tears flow freely now, tracking mascara down her temples. She's beautiful like this—destroyed, desperate, fighting herself more than me. I slow my pace deliberately, making each thrust torturous and deep.
"Finn," she sobs, her voice breaking on my name.
Something inside me shatters at the sound. I release her throat, cupping her face instead, my thumb brushing away tears as I continue to move inside her. "I've got you," I murmur, the words tearing from somewhere raw and honest. "I've always had you."
Her eyes find mine, swimming with tears and something like surrender. Not defeat—never that—but recognition. Acceptance of what we are, what we've always been.
