I don’t finish my sentence. Suddenly, he moves—fast. His hand shoots out, grabbing my arm, and before I can react, he spins me around, pressing me against the wall beside my dresser.
The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. His body crowds into mine, one hand wrapping around my throat, warm and commanding, fingers holding me in place without squeezing—just claiming.
His other hand grips my hip hard enough that I can feel the pressure through the thin fabric of my shorts. My heart hammers in my chest as he leans closer, his face inches from mine.
“You’ve been a naughty girl,” he says, his voice rough.
My stomach flips. His thumb presses against the side of my throat, tilting my head back. “Trouble,” he murmurs.
My breath quickens. “You spent the last week teasing me,” he continues, voice low and dangerous. “Baking for my men, smiling at them, acting all sweet.”
His grip on my hip tightens, sending a thrill through me. “I warned you a punishment was coming.”
My pulse pounds in my ears as his gaze drops to my mouth and then back to my eyes. “Speak now,” he says quietly, “if you don’t want this.”
The room goes still. The music plays softly in the background. My heart races, my chest rising and falling beneath his gaze. I should say something. I should tell him to leave. I should push him away.
But instead, I stay silent. The truth burns in my chest—I do want this. I want him. And I hate that I do.
Hawk watches me carefully, waiting. When I still don’t speak, something dark flashes in his eyes. His hand leaves my hip, moving slowly, dangerously, down my side, over the curve of my waist.
He leans closer, his mouth brushing against my ear. “Thought so,” he growls softly.
His hand on my hip began to move, a slow, deliberate slide downwards. His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of my shorts, tracing the curve of my belly before venturing lower. I held my breath, my entire body tensing in anticipation.
When his thumb and forefinger found my clit and pinched, hard, a scream was torn from my throat. It wasn't a scream of pain, but of pure, unadulterated pleasure. The sharp, electric jolt shot through me, lighting up every nerve ending. My knees went weak, and if he hadn't been holding me up, I would have collapsed to the floor.
"Fuck, yes," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my back. He began to rub my clit in tight, relentless circles, his touch expert and demanding. "You like that, don't you? You like my hand on your pussy." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. "You're going to be mydirty little whore tonight, Emma. And you're going to love every fucking second of it."
His words were gasoline on a fire. I whimpered, a pathetic, needy sound that I couldn't hold back. My hips bucked against his hand, chasing the friction, the pleasure. I was grinding against him shamelessly, lost in the sensation. My movements seemed to make him even more feral. His grip on my throat tightened slightly, and his movements on my clit became faster, more punishing.
"I'm... I'm going to come," I gasped, the words barely intelligible. The pressure was building to an unbearable peak, a coiling tension deep in my belly that was about to snap.
Just as I teetered on the edge, he pulled his hand away.
I groaned, a sound of pure frustration and denial. My pussy was throbbing, clenching around nothing, begging for the release that had been so cruelly snatched away. I was soaked, my inner thighs slick with my arousal.
"Naughty girls don't get to finish right away," he murmured, his voice thick with dark amusement. He spun me around to face him, and before I could protest, his mouth crashed down on mine. It was a bruising, punishing kiss, all teeth and tongue. He claimed my mouth with a possessive fury, his tongue delving deep, stroking and dominating. His hand came up to my throat again, squeezing lightly, cutting off just enough air to make my head spin.
"Who do you belong to, Emma?" he demanded, his eyes blazing with a possessive fire that should have scared me but only made me wetter.
A defiant spark ignited within me. I looked him dead in the eye, a smirk playing on my swollen lips. "No one."
He didn't like that answer. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a primal sound of warning. "Get on your fucking knees," he commanded, his voice hard as steel.
My defiance melted away, replaced by a wave of submission so strong it made my head spin. I obeyed instantly, sinking to the floor before him. I looked up, my heart pounding in my chest. He fisted a hand in my hair, his grip tight and unyielding, and roughly tilted my head back.
"Stick your tongue out," he ordered.
I did as he said, extending my tongue, my eyes locked on his. He leaned down, his face close to mine, and spat directly into my mouth. The act was so debasing, so filthy, that it sent another jolt of arousal straight to my core.
"Who do you belong to?" he asked again, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
I met his gaze, my own eyes alight with challenge. "No one."
He growled again, the sound full of frustration and a dark, thrilling hunger. He released my hair and unbuttoned his jeans, shoving them down his hips. His cock sprang free, and my eyes widened. It was massive, thick and long, with a prominent vein running up the underside. The tip was already glistening with precum, and my mouth watered. I couldn't wait to taste him.
He gripped his hard cock, stroking it slowly, twice, his eyes never leaving mine. I opened my mouth in invitation, and he didn't hesitate. He stuffed his cock inside me, pushing past my lips and sliding all the way down my throat until my nose was buried in the coarse hair at his base.
