His fingers flex, and my pulse jumps under them, a frantic rhythmic confession, as I wait for him to take what he clearly wants.
He doesn’t.
Carrson stares down at me, eyes wide, his grip loosening as his expression sobers into hesitation. “I’m—I’m.” He swallows. “I’m scared I’ll hurt you.”
That stops everything.
“I don’t always know the difference,” he adds, “between what feels good and what hurts.”
He looks away when he says it. That’s what gets to me. How he can’tmeet my eyes.
“Hey,” I say softly, turning his chin back with my hand.
He ducks his head, uncertain in a way I’ve never seen before. Like he’s preparing for me to reject him or, worse, be repulsed by him.
I lift my hand slowly, giving him time to avoid me, but he doesn’t move. He watches as my fingers brush his wrist, the one resting at my throat. I wrap them lightly around it, not pulling him away.
No. I hold him there.
“You won’t,” I tell him.
His brow tightens. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.” I shift under him, so I can meet his gaze fully. No shadows to hide in. “Because you’re thinking about it. Worried. That’s how I know.”
The tension in his shoulders doesn’t disappear, but it loosens.
“I think about a lot of things, terrible things,” he says quietly. “I want to hurt people. People who deserve it.” His voice drops. “People who don’t.”
“I do too,” I answer. “All the time.”
He blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that.
“Wanting power,” I say, “wanting control…wanting to never feel small again. To be the one people are afraid of for once.” I hold his gaze. “That doesn’t make youhim.”
His face crumples, just slightly. I reach up and caress his jaw, locked so hard it vibrates.
“We’re not good people,” I whisper, “but we can be good to each other.”
He presses his eyes shut, but not before I see how they glisten.
A single nod of his head, as if he’s reached a decision. “If you want me to stop, squeeze my arm. Hard. Okay?”
“Okay—” My word ends on a gasp as he slowly pushes into me and closes his hand around my throat at the same time.
His eyes are open, locked on me, gauging my response.
I suck in a breath that ends on nothing because he’s blocked my access to air. Just as I’m starting to panic, Carrson lets go and pulls back. He gives me a few precious seconds to catch my breath, then it’s his hand on my throat and his cock in my pussy, both pushing at once. He holds the position longer this time untilmy lungs beg for air and I seriously consider using my out of squeezing his arm, but right before I hit my breaking point he backs off.
I suck air down, my chest tight, and he doesn’t move while I recover.
“Becky,” he says quietly. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say, pride taking over.
He studies me a second longer, like he’s debating whether to believe me, then moves again. This time, his grip is harder but his thrust quick enough that I get in a mouthful of air before he increases that constricting pressure around my neck. His cock swells inside me as if he’s enjoying this. He continues the pattern, gently choking me while he moves in and releasing as he moves out. A burn starts in my chest, radiates to my clit, which is swollen and throbbing. I reach down and stimulate myself only to have Carrson knock my hand aside.
“Let me,” he says in his bossy voice. Now he’s got one hand on my neck, the other on my clit, and he’s fucking me harder. White spots dance before my eyes, andoh my god,what’s he doing to my insides because I’m so hot and dizzy and teetering on the edge of something I can’t stop, like a volcano about to explode.
