But now, hearing him in the hallway, boots striking the floor like slow threats. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t.
The room is dark, with no lights on. But he flicks the hallway switch, and a golden glow spills through the cracked door. It creaks open. Slow. Careful. Hunting.
He steps inside.
My breath snags in my throat, pulse thundering wild.
He scans the room once, eyes narrowing to slits. Then turns and walks out.
I exhale sharp, chest heaving, body trembling with leftover adrenaline. I start to rise.
The door slams open.
“Gotcha.”
I spin as he storms back in, a wall of muscle and menace. I bolt for the far side, but he is faster. Shoulders rolling like a predator, steps heavy and sure. He cuts me off in two strides, blocking the door with his bulk.
“My office?” His voice rumbles low, lethal. No emerald left in his eyes. Just black hunger.
I step back, heart slamming against ribs. “It was just a joke.”
He smirks, dark and slow, lips curling to bare teeth. “Calling mebestiewas the worst thing you could’ve done.”
He lunges.
His arm snakes around my waist, and he spins, slamming me down onto the thick rug. Breath explodes from my lungs in a gasp.
He drops over me in a heartbeat. Before I can scramble, he kicks my legs wide and settles between them, caging me with his weight. Thighs like steel pinning mine.
“Stop! Let me go, Flynn! You asshole!” I scream. Fight. Twist like hell, but he snatches both wrists, slamming them above my head in one brutal grip. I thrash harder, desperate, and then his hold slips a fraction. I strike and bite hard, my teeth sinking deep into the meat of his forearm.
“Fuck,” he growls, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine, but he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t flinch.
His grip only tightens, savage approval flashing in those black eyes. A low, primal rumble escapes his throat. Pleasure, raw and animal. He likes the pain. Craves the mark.
One hand locks my wrists harder. The other slides down my throat, pressing and gripping hard. His thighs clamp tighter, grinding me into the rug, his weight a claiming force that owns every inch.
“Say it again,” he dares, voice ragged with hunger. “Tell me to stop.”
I should.
I should scream it. Cry it, but heat floods my veins. My body arches up into him, his hips rolling on instinct. I don’t want him to stop.
He leans down, hand on my neck, pressing just enough to make stars flicker at the edges of my vision. “You know I love when you scream.”
Christ.
Flynn screams control all the time, but in these moments he turns into something else. Feral. Untamed. And I want it. Crave the monster.
“Please.” The word rips out, desperate, my voice cracking under his palm.
He stares, pupils blown wide, a predator savouring prey. “I’m gonna teach you how to be a good girl. How to take me, all of me.” His tongue drags slow across my lips, hot and claiming. “How to beg for me.”
He eases the pressure on my throat, lets air flood back in a dizzy rush. His hand trails down, rough over my breasts. Pinches my nipple viciously hard. Pain lances sharp, tears swelling instantly in my eyes.
He yanks my t-shirt up, shoving my bra down in one brutal tug. His mouth descends, tongue laving the sting, warm and wet. His body weighs heavy, thighs like iron trapping mine. My hips roll up shamelessly, grinding against the rigid length, straining his pants, chasing the friction.
He growls against my skin, teeth grazing the peak before he lifts his head. One hand snaps back to my throat, thumb pressing the hollow just enough to remind me who owns my breath. “Hold it,” he commands, voice gravel and smoke. “Don’t breathe till I say.”
