Page 50 of Contention

Kara pulls back, heart racing, panting harshly.

She sits back into her seat, still sitting on her legs, feeling suddenly like a deer in headlights. His eyes open slowly, now that she’s not assaulting his person anymore. His lips are bruised, swollen from Kara’s sudden assault. Instead of looking disgusted, he looks hungry, the way he stares at her, the way his chest rises and falls quickly. His light eyes are spitting fire, pupils starting to dilate as he says slowly, “Why did you do that?”

Why, indeed?

“Because, you’re an awful boor,” she snaps, feeling her cheeks heat.

With a snarl, he yanks her right out of her chair, causing Kara to shriek in outrage as she falls over the arm of his, into his lap. Her chair tips over completely, but neither of them pays any attention to it. “You are vexing me immensely,” he rasps, teeth flashing as he holds her against his body.

There’s a speck of blood on those sneering lips and Kara doesn’t feel bad in the slightest. She must have bit him a little too hard.

This time, his fingers are gripping her jaw as he tilts her face. His eyes are staring down at her own, intent written there. Like he’s internally wrestling with himself, his jaw tense. Then, his gaze becomes darker, eyes going half-mast.

Kara’s stomach drops, her core clenching, seeing the blatant arousal in his gaze.

This time, he kisses her and it’s more like fighting a war than anything else.

His arm is an iron bar around her waist, holding her tightly to him in his lap. His other hand is holding her jaw, holding her captive as his lips cover hers heatedly. Fire zings into Kara’s veins, a rush of adrenaline sending her heart racing. Every pass of his tongue against hers has Kara’s core throbbing, embarrassingly so as he takes control, maneuvering her as he pleases.

Calais’s thigh is up against her center and the friction has Kara feeling out of control. She feels all the blood in her body racing downward, swelling in her lower region, making her sensitivity skyrocket. It’s all she can do to keep herself from riding his thigh.

Her underwear is getting sticky and Kara wants to be sick on herself over the fact. Her hormones are running rampant; it’s been a few months, after all. She has needs, but she shouldn’t be getting them met in this way.

Your appetite for violence needs to be contained,her psychiatrist always said.The sexualization of having control, or even the lack of it is dangerous in you, dear girl.

Too bad she’s too far gone, lust in her belly, begging for more. The way it makes her feel full and empty all at once, a burning need to take what she wants. She needs more, she wants to push him harder, just to see what he’ll do. He’s dangerous, he’s bad, her guilty pleasure, like a fucking poison in her veins.

He likes it when women pretend they don’t want him and Kara is more than willing to see his reaction to resistance. She jerks in his domineering hold, struggles on his thigh to try and get out of his grasp. She knows she can’t compete with his strength; that’s not the point. The point is, she can feel him hot and hard against her, his groan taking on a lusty growl in his throat as she fights against him. On purpose. Throwing gasoline on the fire.

“Let go of me,” she hisses against his mouth, full of venom. Pushing at him, as if she’s actually trying to get away.

She digs her nails into his shoulders, makes sure he feels it. The sound he makes in response has her nearly keening out loud.

If even possible, his hold on her tightens as he puts a brutal end to her moderate struggle. His tongue forces its way down her throat as his hand moves to her hair, jerking her head back aggressively. Kara whines, feeling like a bird with its wings cut.

Her spine aches against the backward bend, straining, at his mercy. His tongue is at her throat, a flash of teeth against her skin as he holds her head tilted back.

Every time he moves, the friction between her thighs has Kara making embarrassing, breathy noises. She’s like an electric wire gone wild and she can’t put herself back right again, because she needs and needs and the euphoria inside of her wants release.

She wants release, but at the same time she doesn’t wanthimto be the cause of it.

Fear and lust mix together in a heady sensation; he has full control of her and if he wants to hurt her, he can. Perhaps the very idea excites Kara. The strength in his limbs is easily felt now that she’s on him, weakly struggling against him. She may as well be fighting a brick wall; he’s simply far stronger than her and her anger.

She’s petite. He’s not.

Vaguely, she thinks about what it would be like to be underneath all that strength in bed. Strong wrists connected to strong hands, holding her down while she writhes. Sneering at her feeble attempts to get out from under him. The way he’d pin her down with his cock-

Every shift of his hips has her dying and Kara’s growing weak to it, her reasons as to why she shouldn’t let him do this shrinking by the second. When he stops moving his thigh in that knowing manner, she nearly begs him to continue, chasing the feeling.

She shifts her hips, can’t help it, won’t stop it, trying to chase that sensation of elation every time she rubs herself against him just right. Fuck, she doesn’t need anything more than this, she could shatter just from rubbing her core against his thigh.

Kara, you disgusting slut. You don’t even like him.

That’s the point.

He slouches down further in his seat, spreading his legs wider. In an aggressive motion, he hoists her thighs to the outside of both of his, spreading her, making her vulnerable. Though this makes it far more difficult for Kara to use his thigh as her means of entertainment, now she’s seated directly against his groin, where she can feel the shape of him clearly through her thin clothing.

Kara feels herself panting, because now she’s exposed, waiting in anticipation to see what he’ll do. The thought of being touched, the anticipation of being touched between her thighs, is deviously thrilling. So utterlywrong. The arm around her waist moves as his strong hand grabs her rear, pressing her front against him ever tighter, his hips tilting upwards with the motion.

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