Page 11 of The Price Of Possession

Hard.

“Why, huh? You're an unhealthy obsession, Clara,” he grits, his voice growing more fevered. His eyes alone keep me pinned to the wall, imprisoning me. The heat between my legs tingles throughout my entire body.

I open my mouth to speak, but I don't know what to say. This strange pull ignites. I refuse to acknowledge it.

He moves in closer—if that's possible—caging me in. He rubs his bulge against my center, inciting a moan from me. His other hand drifts up my skirt. His jeans brush along my thighs. My breath quickens and I desperately want him to use me. To fuck me until I can’t remember how to breathe. Until I fall into the same routine of chasing pleasure with the pain. Everything is culminating in a destructive point of no return.

A manic laugh falls from his lips. “Such a tempting little Nightshade, you are.” He licks his lips, loosening his grip on my scalp.

All reason leaves me the moment his tongue drags across my cheek. The remnants of the drugs are still cycling through my pleasure system. His eyes are pinned and dilated.

He, too, is gone. What a recipe for disaster.

He effortlessly forces my body against the dresser next to me, knocking a few contents onto the floor below. My hands slam against the cool mahogany. His large hand forces my cheek against the sleek finish. I'm embarrassingly wet from his dominating behavior. I'm well aware how sickly unnormal this is. His boots kick my heels together.

“You've got no Goddamn clue how damn appealing you are. You're a hypnotic disaster. Another broken beauty to destroy. I want to watch how far you'll fall.” He leans his entire body weight against me. His hand shoots out and wraps around my throat. I gasp out a breath as he wrenches me back up again.

“Look. At. Me,” he grinds out, his voice raising with each word. He forces my gaze on the dresser mirror. I can see every cynical expression filtering over his face. All chaos unleashes. He twists my jaw around and claims me in a punishing, carnal kiss. Something he's never done with me. And fuck, if it isn’t everything I've ever craved from a man. It's hungry, galvanized and asphyxiating. His tongue dances with mine in a twisted dance and, holy shit–his tongue is pierced.

He's a bad habit I can't afford. His eyes reveal tragedy and trauma. It mirrors my own. I can recognize a cold, vitiated center. Without thinking, I bite his lip, drawing blood. Copper tinge flows onto my taste buds. He grunts and stumbles backward. A sick, twisted laugh that sounds more cynical than anything else leaves his throat. He keeps his eyes trained on me while he wipes the remnants on his forearm. The bulge in his pants presses against my leg. “Harder. I love dangerous toys.”

This bitch is testing me. I shouldn't have gotten involved with her, but fuck, when do I ever think before acting on impulse? I even kissed her. The fuck? I lick the remainder of the blood from my swollen lip. What she's not comprehending is that I enjoy the clipped undercurrent of pain. Her fight was unexpected . . . but not unwanted. Maybe I've just grown used to the docile, drugged bitches. Or the bitches who get to their knees for me without a second thought. My cock is hard as stone, straining against my zipper. Her fight only further pushes me. Nothing beats burying my dick inside a warm cunt. Her body is a holy temple I want to defile over and fucking over again.

I wrestle her against the dresser again. My palm slides up her thigh. She hisses and bats me away when I reach the marks I left on her. I ignore her protesting whimpers, instead slipping past her thong. My fingers dip between her slit. Her crystal eyes find mine in the mirror again. She's vulnerable and I’m fucking here for it.

She's soaked. Fuckkkk . . .

“Such a dirty whore,” I growl into her ear. Her hands dig into the wood varnish. She braces herself for the unholy shit I'm about to do to her.

She tries to claw her way out of my grasp. I know exactly what she needs. My hand leaves her cunt. She lets out a soft exhale. For the shock factor, I shove my arousal soaked fingers down her throat without warning. She gags so beautifully. Her blonde hair sticks to her cheeks.

“That's it. Taste how fucking needy you are for me. Bet you never weeped this much for Val or Silas. This cunt craves abuse, Nightshade. I can offer you pleasure with pain.” I dig my hand in my pocket and pull out my lighter along with a joint. I click it open, letting the flame dance over the skin of her bare shoulder blade. She hisses. I laugh. “Kieran,” she whimpers.

If she wants to play, I'll show her a good time. A lustful haze clouds my vision. I light the joint and take a heavy hit before pocketing the lighter again.

“I know what you need, Nightshade. Feel the pleasure with the pain. They're one in the same.”

Her chest heaves like a wild animal. I want to fuck her now, but like her, I need to alter my state of mind. Courtesy of Mortensen. He’s fucked me up behind recognition.

Her plump lips part. I envision forcing her to take my cock. I might just do that.

No, Kieran.

The less she hates me, the easier it'll be to break the news to her about being the Offering.

I place the joint against her lips. She closes her eyes and takes a big hit. I know she needs to kill that pain of hers. Whatever pills they gave her aren't cycling through her system yet.

Her body goes slack against me. “That's it. Feel that?”

Her droopy eyes track me in the mirror. She nods. God fucking damnit she looks so vulnerable. So tempting. The need to own, dominate, and destroy takes over my system. She's awakened something dark within me. Something fucked up. I polish off the joint and flick it on the floor. My cock has already made a wet spot seeping through my boxers.

I run my tattooed hand up her chest, spanning up to her neck. I give her a firm hand necklace, squeezing. She hums.

She likes it. She sinks into a heavy induced state of torpor. I hold her gaze in the mirror. “Keep those sad eyes on me, sweetheart. Understand?”

I should feel relaxed from the weed, but instead I'm restless like a caged lion. My entire body shakes with animalistic need. I might lose my shit. I use my free hand to rip her skirt from her body; it falls in tatters at her heels.

Her lace thong drives me to madness. I pull it to the side then free my throbbing dick from its confines. I waste no time with taking what I want, to fuck away my anger, hatred and feelings. To use her like my beast wants. I'm her villain. My hand squeezes harder along her pulse point.