“They’re just friends.” Her fingers clawed at the counter, nails digging into the polished surface as if grounding herself.
She didn’t need my instructions, her body already bent to my will, back arched, ass pushed out in offering.
Such a pretentious, little slut.
She didn’t dislike me. She just disliked how she couldn’t fight me, how easily she shattered in my arms like glass.
“Friends?” A harsh sound left my sneering lips, my free hand disappearing inside my boxer briefs, pulling out my cock, which without surprise, was thick, throbbing, fucking aching for her.
“Am I supposed to believe that?”
“What you believe isn’t my business. I don’t owe you any explanation. I don’t answer to you. I am not yours. Never will be. I am Callan’s.”
She was taunting me. Using the phrase she knew I had come to despise. And it was fucking working. Something dark unfurled in my chest, a sickness, a fucking hunger.
She was mine. She answered only to me. Her body bent only to my will. She was a pawn in my game, my fucking puppet. How dare she say otherwise?
The room tilted, my vision blurring in a haze of black, grey, and red.
That fucking sentence. That fucking lie. The urge to wring the breath from her lungs clawed at my control. I grabbed her throat, squeezing just enough to feel her pulse skitter beneath my palm. Enough to remind her that she was nothing if not a fragile thing. A little squeeze, a little pressure, and she would fall limp in my arms right now.
Angrily, I shoved her thighs apart, fingers gripping her hip. No warning. No teasing. I drove my cock into her, and she choked on a gasp, body seizing.
“You.”Thrust. “Are.”Thrust. “Fucking.”Thrust. “Mine!”
She cried, her cunt swallowing me whole, dripping down my length.
Her nails scraped against the counter, tiny veins surfacing along her knuckles as she gripped the edge.
“I don’t care what you think.” I yanked her head back until my lips hovered over her ear, my voice a low, lethal whisper. “I don’t care what you feel.” I thrust deeper, making her whimper. “You are mine. Your body is mind, your soul is fucking mine. And you see this tight pussy of yours? All. Fucking. Mine!”
Tears beaded on her lashes, before tracking paths down her cheeks, rage and bitterness burning in her eyes. But I didn’t care. Why the fuck would I, when her wetness was already soaking my cock, dripping down her thighs, and slicking the floor beneath us, drowning us?
“Now.” I released her hair, but didn’t let go just yet. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”
I pulled out, and a whine slipped past her lips before she could stop it, while her folds clenched around nothing.Pathetic. She had no fucking self control, begging for the cock of a man she claimed she didn’t belong to just a moment ago.
“Look at you,” I taunted, rubbing my cock against her swollen clit. “Dripping for me, crying for me. If you want this cock back in your needy, little cunt, tell me who you fucking belong to.”
She glared at me, fire burning in that deceptive eyes.
“So…” I tilted her head to the side, a slow smirk playing at my lips. “Who do you belong to, Elizabeth?”
She hesitated, lips trembling, her body humming as she contemplated her next choice of word.
“Answer me.” I squeezed her neck, hard, and she choked, her body locking as she gripped the edge of the table with whitened knuckles.
“Who do you belong to?”
“Zaghan?” she whispered it, barely audible, like it was a curse, a secret she didn’t want another ear to hear. She called my name like it was…shame? How dare she?
“Say it again,” I growled, my lips in a sneer. “Say it loud and say it proudly. Say my name like I am your god. Who the fuck do you belong to?”
She didn’t answer me. She fucking chose defiance, pride.
My fingers closed around her neck and I squeezed, not to scare, but to fucking end her. I was going to fucking kill this girl right now.
“P-please,” she choked, bucking, her chest tightening, eyes wide as her face turned purple.
