Page 24 of Wicked Fury

I’m used to getting my way, especially with her. I lead the way to the elevators, the soft thud of her footsteps trailing behind me.

“Let go, Satan’s spawn!” Iris’ huff of frustration is cute.

“No can do, babe. Don’t want to lose my trophy.” I wink at her. The elevator dings, and we step inside, her body pressed against mine. I inhale her scent, a mix of jasmine and lemon. My heartbeat picks up as the doors close, trapping us together.

“What do you want, Lincoln?”

“Just to have some fun,” I growl, back against the wall, caging her in. She tries to shove past me, but I catch her wrists above her head, pinning her. “I’ve had enough of your attitude tonight, angel. Time you learned your place.”

The door to our room clicks open, and I waste no time shoving her inside before she can make a scene. The space is all sleek lines and polished surfaces, impersonal as a doll’s house. It smells like fake floral scented cleaner and desperation.

“Shut up, angel,” I growl, my patience already threadbare. “Just shut up and?—”

She spits right in my face. My blood simmers. Who does she think she is?

“Feisty,” I sneer, wiping my cheek dry. I grab her jaw with a firm hand, fingers pressing into her flesh enough to assert control without leaving a mark. Not yet, anyway. “But stupid.”

“Get off me, Lincoln!” Her defiance is delicious, even as it pisses me off.

“Make me,” I challenge, holding her gaze with mine, unyielding.

“Open up, it’s my turn,” I hiss between a Cheshire cat grin that would make the Joker proud. My fingers tighten around her jaw, a warning wrapped in flesh and bone. Iris’ eyes widen, but it’s too late to retreat—my spit lands inside her mouth, an invasion in its most primal form.

“Swallow,” I command, the darkness in my voice echoing the twisted satisfaction gathering within me. “Well, that’s one way to get me inside of you. Now I’m about to invade your body another way.”

“Revenge smells so sweet,” I whisper close to her ear, my voice a silky threat. Her eyes blaze with defiance, but I see something else there too—fear. It sends a thrill down my spine, igniting a craving within me.

“Revenge? For what?” she hisses, trying to jerk away from my hold.

“For every little jab you’ve thrown my way,” I taunt, feeling the surge of power as I squeeze just a fraction tighter, watching carefully for that flicker of submission in her striking eyes. “For pushing me, testing me, making me want…this. Want you.”

“Lincoln, you’re hurting me,” she protests, her voice barely more than a strained whisper. Perfect.

“Am I?” My smirk widens, and it’s all teeth—predatory.

With a quick motion, I fling her onto the bed, the soft bounce of the mattress mocking the harshness of my actions. She gasps, the sound getting lost in the plushness of the room. There’s no stopping now. I can almost taste the intoxicating mix of her indignation and hidden desire.

“Get off!” she screams, thrashing as I tear off her skirt and rip her t-shirt open. The sight of her lying vulnerable in just her bra and panties fuels my arousal. My cock strains against my pants, aching to be inside her. That smirk I love so much is nowhere to be seen now, replaced by a snarl that doesn’t scare me—it excites me.

“Struggle all you want, Iris,” I growl, pinning her arms above her head with ease. Her chest heaves in anger and panic, those cute little studs in her nipples teasing through the thin fabric of her bra. “It just makes it better for me. You have no idea how intoxicating it is.”

“Fuck you, Lincoln,” she spits out, but her words are diluted by the ragged edge of her breathing.

“Already on the agenda, angel,” I retort, the raw edge of my own desire scraping against my control.

Her skin is soft under my rough hands. With each of her struggles, a deeper darkness unfurls within me, one I’ve kept leashed until now. It’s liberating; it’s power; it’s pure, unadulterated need.

“Lincoln, please…” Her voice cracks, and something in me snaps.

“Shh,” I command, silencing her with a look. “No more talking. Just feel.”

I lean down, my lips hovering over hers, not touching — a promise of what’s to come. “You’re mine, angel. Tonight, you’re mine.”

I yank the delicate fabric of her cheekies with a swift, calculated motion, tearing it away from her body. Her gasp is music to my ears—discordant and sweet. Her panties are soaked, and I know if I touch her cunt, I will feel how much she gets off on this shit also.

“Mmm, been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

With a smirk, I twist the fabric and stuff it into her mouth, silencing her protests. “This is where you hush,” I murmur, watching the fire in her eyes flicker with defiance.

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