Page 89 of Villainous Rise

“Really, Sparks?” he murmured, his voice a mocking rasp in the quiet room. “You just swallowed my cum. Your pussy is dripping down your thighs for me right now. And you’re going to fight me over a piece of silk?”

I jerked my arms, breaking his grip with a sharp twist, and drove my palm into his shoulder. The impact jarred my wrist, but I welcomed the sting. We grappled in the dim light of the bedroom and my lungs burned with the exertion. I aimed a knee at his thigh, missing when he shifted his weight with infuriating ease. He backed me toward the mattress, absorbing my strikes, letting me exhaust myself against him.

The safe word hovered right at the edge of my teeth. A single syllable would stop this instantly. I swallowed the word down. I wanted the bruised wrists and the undeniable, physical proof that he wanted me just as violently as I wanted him.

He cornered me against the edge of the mattress and spun me around. His hand wrapped around my neck, holding me in place while his other hand found the zipper. The metal teeth parted and he shoved the fabric off my shoulders, pinning my arms to my sides for a brief second as the dress pooled at my feet.

He shoved me face-down onto the bed and grabbed my hips.

I immediately scrambled and flipped over, bringing my knee up to catch him in the chest, ready to drag this out until we were both bruised and breathless.

Cipher came down on top of me, caging me in. His eyes raked over my body, hungry and possessive, until they stopped at the spot just below my left collarbone.

He went rigid and the hunger died in his eyes.

“Annie,” he whispered, his finger reaching out to trace the jagged scar Dread had left when his knife sliced into me that night at the Crucible. His hand froze mid-air, hovering inches from my skin.

I watched as grief flashed across his face.

His finger finally made contact, trembling as it traced the scar. The touch was so light I barely felt it.

“I didn’t know,” he said, his voice cracking. “I didn’t⁠—“

His throat worked visibly as he stared at the raised ridge of tissue. Evidence of how deeply Dread’s blade had carved into me. How close I’d come to dying because of his actions.

When he leaned in, replacing his finger with his mouth, I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me. His lips were warm against the damaged skin, gentle.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against my scar. “I should have been there sooner.”

I pushed him back, needing space between us.

“Don’t,” I said, my voice sharp. “I don’t want your apologies.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“Because I can’t trust that you mean them. How do I know this isn’t just another calculation? Another lie to get what you want?”

Anger flashed across his face, his jaw tightening as he stared at me. For a moment, I thought he might argue and try to convince me I was wrong. That’s what the old Cipher would have done. He would have used that silver tongue to twist everything around until I doubted my own judgment.

Instead, he just nodded once. He simply absorbed the blow and accepted it. He didn’t try to defend himself or try to persuade me I was wrong.

That, more than anything, caught me off guard. The Cipher I knew never conceded a point without a fight.

“Then I won’t apologize with my words,” he said, simply.

He leaned in to kiss me again. His lips moved against mine with aching tenderness, asking for something I couldn’t give. Something I wasn’t ready to give.

“Don’t,” I whispered against his mouth. “Don’t be gentle.”

His body tensed against mine. “Annie⁠—”

“Fuck me,” I demanded, digging my nails into his shoulders. “Hurt me.”

He hesitated before pressing his forehead against mine. I could feel him waging some internal battle, weighing what I was asking against what he wanted to give.

“Please,” I added, hating the desperation in my voice but unable to stop it.

Cipher’s hands tightened on my hips. “I’ll give you whatever you need,” he whispered against my skin.