I had to stand on the very tips of my toes to breathe. I reached up for my needle, and he leaned in to bite my wrist, making me retract quickly.
“What did you expect?” I gulped for air. “Did you think I would leap into your arms at the sight of you?”
“You were going to be in my arms either way.”
“Delusional,” I spat.
He squeezed again, and my head began growing light from the lack of air and the uncomfortable position. A wicked glint flashed in his eye as he watched.
I gasped when I went up on my toes, sinking back down into his grip when I couldn’t keep the posture.
“Is this how I must calm you every time? I feel it won’t be good for that pretty head of yours.”
“I guess... My head is no stranger to your... concussions,” I panted, squirming in discomfort.
His free hand brushed against my cheek, a soft touch that made my skin crawl, knowing who it was coming from. Before I could get too comfortable, his hand trailed from my cheek, down the front of my blouse, between my breasts, then pulled up my skirt.
I pushed out a huff of air through my nose, barely able to make any other remark.
“Alina,” he chuckled, “is this really the type of thing to get you hot and bothered? Was I too modest in the past with you? You filthy thing.” He pressed his palm flush against my pussy, supporting me only there as he was firm on my neck.
I shook my head, stretching my neck out to gasp for air before my knees buckled, and he gripped between my legs even tighter.
He rubbed gently, his fingers slicking between my labia, collecting the wetness quickly forming between.
“I’m simply torn,” he removed his hand from between my legs, forcing me back on my toes. “You’ve made such a mess I don’t know whether to fuck you or eat you.” He let out a wicked laugh. “What say you?” he asked in mock curiosity, squeezing the sides of my throat a little tighter.
“N-n . . .”
“N-no? N-next time make sure to shove a rag in that haughty mouth of yours?” He unbuckled his trousers. He pressed his hips between my legs, loosening his grip enough for me to breathe.
I gasped for air, mouth agape, desperately trying to take in as much as I could.
Then his hand pressed against the sides of my throat. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
I glared at him, held against the wall by his hips, slightly above eye level. “You lied.”
He raised his brow, patience visibly thinning.
“You said you don’t know whether to eat me or fuck me.” I glanced down before meeting his again. “It seems your mind was always made up.”
“You think you’re clever.” He shifted his hips. I could feel the tip of his cock slick between my legs.
“I’ve never been in any danger, have I?”
He squinted at me, almost a sneer.
“You’ve never killed anything powerful. You’re a dog who picks off the rats to make himself feel better about the pack leavinghim beh?—”
He squeezed my throat, shoving the tip inside. I yelped and dug my nails into his wrist.
“How good you are, it’s like your body remembers,” he leaned down to whisper in my ear, slowly rolling his hips. “You feel like a dream. I can feel each pump of blood your heart forces through you, calling me like a dinner bell.”
“Sick,” I managed.
“Yes, you make me violently ill, crazed and feral at just the sight of you,” he groaned, lifting my leg up on his hip, thrusting forward with an audible thud against the wall every time. “Every godforsaken day, you are chronic. Incessant, ever present, and vicious, the way you leave me with phantom pains.”
I don’t know if it was the high or his words, but something inside me was growing hot. I hooked my leg on his hip tightly, using the support to lift myself higher, to gasp for breath. Once I did, he thrust again. I flinched when my hips hit the wall again. I sank back down, his grip a little lighter, and I lifted myself again, only to be met with another rough thrust that prompted a yelp.
