Does he like it when I fight him?
He grips my chin, forcing his lips against mine. I push him off and get up from the couch. He follows me outside. The harsh cold air nips at my face, so I bundle my jacket tighter. The sky is gray and foggy.
“Why are you following me, Irvin?” I shake my head. “You’re like a puppy that wants to be petted.”
He chuckles. “It’s cute, the way you’re behaving.”
He gently pushes me against the cobblestone wall of the mansion. He pins my hands above my head and leans in, kissing my neck. He hates it when I reject him. He hates when I say no. He’s not even aware I’m controlling him mentally. I could manipulate him into doing some shit, and he wouldn’t even know.
I try to pull my wrists free, but he grips them tighter.
“Let me go,” I grit out.
“No, my princess. What’s your angle?”
“It’s none of your business.”
He slides his fingers inside my pants, straight to my core, and my breath hitches. The cold air kisses my forehead as I moan against his mouth. Then he removes his fingers and licks them clean.
He thinks he’s in control, but I’m the one controlling him this time.
“What’s driving you now?” I ask. “Your love or your obsession?”
He gives me a devilish grin. “Both.”
“Are they separate?” I challenge. “Can you love without being obsessed?”
“Why would I want to stop being obsessed with you?”
“Because it’s toxic.”
“I’m not changing who I am, my princess. You have no choice but to accept me.”
“You’re insecure,” I spit. “The minute you don’t have control over me, you lose your mind. That’s why you trashed the place when I was gone. You’re a man-child.”
“I didn’t trash the place because I lost control over you,” he says coolly. “I trashed it because you left me. Let me make something clear, my love.” He licks the side of my face. “I’ve accepted myself for who I am. You want to know how I tick? You want to know what pushes me?Youdo. The more you disobey, the harder I get.” He presses against me. “It’s called primal play. Unlike you, I’m not afraid to admit what I like.”
I want to push him—to make him take me without consent. Well… secretly, I would want it. His eyes are heated, so I shove him away. He yanks my hair gently and kisses me anyway.
I see the anger in his eyes.
He turns me around, kicks my legs apart, and slides a hand to my core. I swallow thickly.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He leans down and whispers, “Taking what belongs to me.”
Excitement and horror light my eyes. His dick is hard as a rock, and before I can react, he shoves the tip inside me. He stretches me, and it feels amazing. I squeeze around him, taking every inch.
“Irvin… please stop.”
He slides in slowly, gripping my hips.
So this is what he does: the more I deny him, the more he forces himself on me.
I scream—because it hurts and feels good at the same time.
“No, Irvin.”
