“Damn, you been working out?” He flexes his throat against my hold so casually, like I’m a kitten swatting at a lion. “You feel stronger than the last time you tried to strangle me.”
Heat floods my face at the memory of me trying to choke him at the pine tree beside the campus all those weeks ago.
“Fuck you,” I snap, but I don’t let go. Instead, I lean in closer, voice dropping low as I grip his neck even harder. “Pick up that phone and tell your mom to go fuck herself.”
His laughter fades, body going still under me. There’s a flicker—his breath catches, hips twitching up involuntarily, cock hardening against my thigh through his jeans.
Does he like this? Me trying to own him? To hurt him?
Do I?
The answer scares me more than his hands ever could.
His eyes shutter, and there’s a low hum in his throat that I can feel through my fingers.
“Bossy fucking slut,” he mutters, voice husky, hands flexing but not fighting.
I press until air hisses through his teeth. “Don’t act like you don’t love being ordered around,” I murmur.
I know what I’m about to say will hurt him.
I fuckingknow.
But the sick, broken part of me that wants to prove I’m unlovable—because then it can say ‘I told you so’—says it anyway.
“Kai’s a good boy for everyone, even his godawful mommy?—“
His hands shoot up, wrenching mine away and flipping us so fast, the room spins. I’m flat on my back again, his full weight crushing down, one forearm across my chest, the other hand clamping my throat.
The pressure is real now, controlled but vicious.
“Too far, Miss H,” he growls, face inches from mine, breath ragged. “Too fucking far.”
His knee shoves between my legs, roughly spreading them, free hand delving behind my leggings. I grab his wrist, scratching him as I try to pluck him away.
“Okay!” I bleat out, panic pushing tears into my eyes. “I’m sorry?—“
Stars burst behind my eyes as he cuts off my air, and the apology meant to free me.
His fingers find my clit, circling hard and fast—no buildup, just pure punishment—while his thumb digs into my windpipe, doling out breaths in shallow bursts.
I claw at his arm, raking my nails over his skin until it’s slippery with blood, gasping when he lets a sliver of air down my throat.
“Kai—stop! I was just?—”
But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let me speak. When I try to grab his face, he turns away with a low chuckle.
“That little power trip got you all wet,” he grates.
He plunges two fingers inside me, curling deep, his thumb grinding relentlessly over my clit until my body’s arching against my will. I can feel how wet I am, how I clench around his fingers.
The feel of his hand on my throat, the lack of air, it amps everything up to eleven. Pleasure and pain twist into an incomprehensible tangle of sensation that builds too fast to stop.
He watches my face with narrowed eyes, mouth trembling. “Now who’s the good girl, just lying there and taking it?”He squeezes my throat tighter still, fingers pistoning until an orgasm tears through me.
My body shudders under him, gargled moans of pleasure and panic smothered when he falls on top of me and kisses me. With every teasing nip and lick he gives me, the fingers around my throat open a fraction.
I suck greedily at the air, at him, at anything to ground me back in reality.
