Page 6 of Brutal Game

Aviva’s money situation was clearly different.

No wonder she hated “princess.”

Didn’t mean I’d stop. It was fun making her face turn red.

“Are you always this angry,princess?” I drew the word out, just to see her eyes light with fire.

“Only when I have a good reason,” she said.

“Aviva, let’s go,” Tovah said.

“Let’s not,” I said. “How about I show you how the other half dances?”

Still holding Aviva’s wrist, I tugged her out of the kitchen and into the living room, where our second line had set up a makeshift dancefloor for us. I wove between the bodies of friends and classmates and girls I’d probably fucked at some point, until we were in the center of the space, surrounded, but somehow also alone.

“I have no idea why I’m letting you drag me around,” she muttered, once we’d left her friend behind.

I grinned at her. “Because you’re attracted to me.”

“I’m not attracted to bossy guys.”

Her body said otherwise. Especially when the song changed, to something low, sexy, dark, and kind of angry.

“I love this song.”

“Yeah?”

Tell me what else you love.

I pulled her against me, wrapping my arms around her waist and lining her up against my hardening cock, not even bothering to ease her into it. She stiffened immediately.

“Relax, princess,” I told her. “We’re just dancing. I promise.”

For now.

“Don’t call me princess.”

But her eyes dilated, and her body became pliant in my arms. Her submission was a turn on. If she liked me bossing her, I couldn’t wait to show her just how dominant I could be. I moved my hips to the music and she followed my lead. Her scent flooded my senses again. I’d never even been a fan of apples before, but I knew I was going to become familiar with their taste, and my mouth watered at the thought.

“I’m going to ask you another question,” I murmured into her ear.

She shivered. “Is that a statement or request?”

I chuckled. “I don’t make requests. Better you know that now.”

Her body softened even further into mine. She fucking liked that.

Fuck, I wanted this girl.

“Why are you here?” I asked again.

“You know, Jack Feldman, you have a lot of questions.”

Avoidance.

“I do,” I admitted.

“Why?”

---