Her eyes narrow further, her fingers tugging at my hair in a way that sends heat straight down my spine.
I lean in close to her ear and murmur, “If you’re into rough play, I am more than happy to accommodate.”
“What—”
I flip her before she can finish the question. One second she’s straddling me, the next she’s sitting on my lap with her back to my chest. My arm bands around her waist, holding her in place while my other hand slides up to her throat.
She hisses, but I tighten my grip in warning. Just enough pressure to make her gasp. Not enough to hurt.
Never enough to hurt.
The scent of her arousal hits me instantly. Sharp and sweet and unmistakable. My wolf roars with approval, and I have to clench my jaw to hold back the sound that wants to rip out of my throat.
She wants this. She wants me.
Even drunk, even furious, even convinced I’m toying with her, her body knows the truth.
The hand that isn’t on her neck finds the waistband of her pants, and my claws extend just enough to slice through the fabric. The sound of tearing cloth fills the apartment.
She inhales sharply, going rigid. But when I tighten my grip on her throat again, she melts. Her head tips back against my shoulder, and a small sound escapes her lips.
“Still think I’m playing games?” I growl against her ear.
She doesn’t answer. Because my hand is already moving, already finding the heat between her thighs.
My fingers slide into wetness, her thighs opening for me without my uttering a word. She’s ready for me. I thrust two fingers in, and she gasps softly. Gone is the aggression from before. Now, she’s soft and pliant, emitting breathy moans and whimpers. I pump my fingers inside her, and her head falls to the side. I watch her expressions, transfixed.
She’s so beautiful when she’s like this, raw and exposed.
I don’t stop the movements, curling my fingers inside her passage. Her slickness slips down my wrist, and I have to bite back my own groan of desire.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper against her hair. “Show me how much you don’t want this.”
She growls lightly, and I laugh under my breath. As my fingers pick up pace, I can see her struggling to maintain some control and failing completely. When she tightens around my fingers, her hands digging into my forearms, my thighs, anything she can reach, I feel a surge of dark satisfaction. “That’s it,” I murmur against her neck, my teeth grazing her sensitive skin. “Let me hear you.”
I hear her moan my name again and again as she comes all over my hand. The air fills with her musk, and it’s driving me crazy.
Her body goes limp in my arms, trembling. I hold her through the aftershocks, feeling her pulse race beneath my fingers.
I spin her around to face me again. After undoing my zipper and freeing myself, I lift her up by the waist, position her, and slam her down onto my cock. Her scream makes me even harder.
“Go on,” I groan, hands on her hips. “Ride me. Take what you want.”
And she does. Her fingers pull at my shirt as she moves herself on my cock, her eyes glazed with need and want. Her teeth find my shoulder, biting down, tearing skin. But the place where I want her to bite down the most, she doesn’t touch. I grab her jawand kiss her fiercely, savoring her, tasting the potent liquor she was trying to drown herself in.
She’s so fucking tight and perfect. My hands hold her waist in place, and I slam up into her. Her cry is ragged, and she moves faster now, desperately seeking her pleasure. I lift my hands to cup her breasts, pulling her shirt away to bite the soft, supple flesh, wanting my marks on her. The ones from last night are still there, but I’m greedy. I want every inch of her covered with me. I want her to look in the mirror and see the evidence of us all over her.
“Darius,” she whimpers when she picks up speed, fucking herself faster on my cock.
She’s tightening again, and she’s not the only one nearing release. I slide my hands down her breasts and the sides of her waist till they’re on her hips. Then, I move us both onto the floor, taking control. Her fingers claw at the rug as I fuck her, pistoning inside her at an inhuman pace, chasing my own pleasure. She cries out as her orgasm hits her. Mine follows instantly. I don’t pull out. Even when I want to, I can’t make myself do it.
Violet has ruined me for anyone else. Sweaty and panting, I look down at her dazed expression.
Her eyes flash gold—a soft hue, but I know what it is. Her wolf is clearly not as dormant as we all thought. It must be because of our intimacy; maybe that is what is forcing her wolf to awaken. And if that is the case, Violet will ultimately feel our fated mate bond, won’t she?
I hear the puppy barking from the bedroom, and I swallow a laugh. “We scared your dog away.”
“Cinnamon,” Violet breathes. “Her name is Cinnamon.”
