“You want to fuck me up?”she hisses.“Do it, Matteo.Break my bones.Rip me open if you have to.But don’t kid yourself… this isn’t about information.”
“You think this is a game?That I give a fuck about you?”I snarl, my face inches from hers, my grip tight enough to make her scalp burn.“Keep talking, Em.Keep running that pretty little mouth.Every word out of it just makes me want to ruin you more.”
I tighten my hold, yanking her head back until her neck strains, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“You’re not in control here.You don’t get to laugh, or smirk, or talk about who I am or what we were.”My voice is razor sharp.Merciless.“You are nothing.Never were.Just some hole I used to practice on.Just soft skin and noise while I figured out how to fuck.”
I watch her face, waiting for the reaction, the rage, the hurt, anything.But I’m not finished.
My voice drops, low, a quiet kind of cruelty.
“If you died in this chair tonight, no one would give a fuck.Not even me.I’d walk out of here, clean my hands, and sleep like a fucking baby.”
I hold her face exactly where I want it, hard, ruthless, waiting for her to break.
She just stares right back, those eyes of hers burning holes through my soul.And my traitorous gaze slips down, just for a second, landing on those lips.The same lips I spent years trying to forget.
Fuck.I try not to notice them, try not to think how easy it'd be to lean in just a little further, close the distance between us and see if they still taste the same.If they’re still as soft, still as perfect as I remember.If she’d still gasp the way she used to when I took her mouth like I owned it.
She sees it.
That one second my eyes dropped to her mouth.That moment I let the past crawl back in through a crack.
And she smirks as though she’s already won.It’s slow.Knowing, and fucking infuriating.
“Aww,” she says, voice low, “is this the part where you pretend you don’t want to kiss me?”
Her smile widens like she’s already won.
I laugh.Just once.Low and cold, the sound scraping out of my throat.
“You think I’d kiss that mouth of yours?”I murmur, dragging my gaze down to that smart little mouth she can’t seem to keep shut.“Sweetheart, if I touched it again, it wouldn’t be for kissing.It’d be with your lips wrapped around my cock.Not because you want it, because I fucking own it.Just like every other part of you.”
She draws in a sharp breath, but I don’t let her speak.
I lean in, close enough that she can feel every filthy word hit her skin.
“You want to talk control, Em?”My voice drops, pure threat.“Keep running that mouth, and I’ll fuck the words right out of your throat.”
She’s silent.Not afraid.Not broken.She’s just defiant.
It’s in her eyes… the way she looks at me in a manner suggesting she’s still got the upper hand.No matter what I say, or what I threaten her with, I’ll never truly reach her.
My fingers twist into her hair and I yank.Harder this time, just enough to bend her neck, to force her spine into something rigid.
Her throat is exposed and fuck, I want to look.I want to stare at it.Trace the lines with my eyes the way I used to trace them with my mouth.I want to remember how soft it felt under my lips.How she used to tilt her head back not from fear, but from fucking need.
“Where’s your father?”I ask, voice cold, controlled, but shaking at the edges.
She doesn’t answer.
Of course, she fucking doesn’t.
I lean in, lips near her ear, voice barely more than a breath.“You think I won’t fucking hurt you?”I murmur.“You think I won’t become exactly what he made me?”I pull back and force her to meet my eyes.“Because I will, Em.I’ll become him if I have to.”I stare at her like I don’t remember who she used to be.As if I haven’t dreamed about her every night since she vanished.“Answer me,” I snarl.“This is me choosing not to ruin you.”
Her eyes blaze.Just that raw, untamed defiance I used to worship.Now it mocks me.Taunts me like a dare.And then she spits it, the words tearing from her throat with the intensity of something that’s been waiting there, soaking in gasoline.
“I don’t fucking know.”
