The power dynamic between us shifts, and my heart leaps into my throat—I have officially lost control of the situation. He’s free. He’s on his feet. And he’s all the fuck riled up.
I feel myself physically gulp. All at once, the sheer stupidity of what I’ve just done comes crashing around my head. I handcuffed anassassinto my bed. I threatened him, tormented and teased him. And he just told me that my name is on his kill list. Fuck!
I glance down at the gun in my hand. The gun that’s only as good as my ability to bluff because it doesn’t have any bullets.
He follows my line of sight. “You know, you really shouldn’t point a gun at someone unless you intend to use it, love,” he tsks, voice lowering dangerously. “And you can’t use it if it’s not loaded.”
Double fuck!
With a little squawk of fear, I chuck his phone at him, turn on my heel and sprint for the door. I thought I’d buy myself time—that he’d go after his device—but it clatters on the ground and with a curse, he gives chase. His heavy footfalls thump after me as I stretch my hand towards the exit, blood pounding in my ears.
I have just enough of a head start… I can make it…
Just as my hand closes around the knob, the letters inked onto the back of his knuckles appear in my line of sight, slamming the door closed again as his body knocks into mine with the force of his momentum. A grunt of pain kicks out of me, taking all the air in my lungs with it. Fuck, he’s fast.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he snarls. He’s so close I can feel every hard, hot inch of him pressed against my back, boxing me in. I can feel his breath against my ear and shoulder. I can smell that soapy, minty, bitter musk of him. My left wrist—the one holding the gun—is in his hand, and my right arm is stuck between my body and the wood of the door.
“I’m trying to get the fuck away from you! Obviously!” I hiss back, matching his energy. I squirm against him, making a noise of frustration when he’s as unmovable as a goddamn brick wall.
“And your plan was to dash out into the hallway, mostly naked? You think I’d let anyone out thereseethat?”
The bite in his voice isn’t anger, I realize. It’s pure, raw jealousy. He’s not mad I held him at gunpoint; he’s coveting the sight of my nudity. He doesn’t want to hurt me… he justwantsme. The thought literally steals my breath.
He reaches for the gun in my hand, plucks it from my grip and places it on the arm of the couch. “Now… where were we?”
He shifts his hips against mine, pressing all that rock-hardness into the softest part of me; I whimper as he grinds himself so close to and yet so far from my hot, swollen core. My whole body lights up at the friction, like someone lit a sparkler under my skin.
“You were trying to convince me that you’renota threat,” I retort.
“I’m not,” he fires back. “I’m here to protect you.”
“What, like a bodyguard?” I snort, then wiggle my ass against him to make a point. “Well, your methods are a bit literal for my taste, but effective, I suppose. My body feelsveryguarded right now.”
With a chuckle, his head drops, and I feel a light brush of his lips against my temple. “Just one of themanythings I plan to do to your body.” He leans down to breathe the next words right by my ear, lifting the small hairs and making me shiver. Especially when I feel the weight of his hand at the base of my neck, like he’s holding me in place so I listen.
“I’m going to claim and worship every inch of you until you’re dripping and writhing. I’m going to make you come until you beg me to stop. By the time I’m done, there won’t be any question of who you belong to.”
His words are like a punch to my uterus, and I make a sound I don’t recognize, sharp and full of longing. The inherent power dynamic in this position and the way he’s so easily subduing me is doing something to my body. I’m lost to anything but the overstimulated, prickly feeling of arousal so intense it hurts.
I feel his dick moving against my ass, like it’s suddenly got a mind of its own. Our delicate flesh pounds a concert of our mutual need. And fuck do I need more.
“Big words from a guy who hasn’t even made me come once,” I rasp, hoping to taunt him into putting his money where his dirty, dirty mouth is.
He spins me, jerking my body, and I try to resist, but my limbs feel boneless. He grabs my free hand—the one that had just started reaching for a better hold on him—and it joins the other arm stretched over my head. I thought people were kidding when they said a guy could hold both their wrists in one hand, but that’s exactly what he does. He pins both against the unyielding, cold door.
Then, I feel his fingers curl around the front of my neck, holding me still with my head tilted up. We’re so close now that our rapid breathing becomes an exchange of air.
“Is that what you want? Tell me—use your words.” I can hear the amusement and longing in his voice.
“Yes,” I demand, surprised that it doesn’t sound strained or muffled. He’s not applying pressure to my windpipe, just right over my pulse points, slowing the blood flow to my brain.
“Ask nicely.”
I tug against him, testing his hold. “Just kiss me already, nerd.”
He squeezes, and my vision explodes in tiny white pinprick lights, making me whimper. He tuts. “Nicer than that. Try again.”
“Kiss me, SpyderMan.”
