Page 54 of Warlord's Plaything

"You can fight me all you want, Hira."

His fingers tighten just enough to make me gasp.

"But you’ll always end up right here."

Pinned. Breathless. Trapped in something neither of us can fucking escape.

I should fight harder.

I should shove him away, kick, bite, anything.

But I don’t.

This isn’t just rage anymore.

It’s heat. It’s hunger.

I hate the way my body betrays me.Hate the way my pulse spikes when his grip tightens, the way his scent sinks into my lungs, heady and fucking intoxicating. I hate him.

But I hate myself more.

His lips brush my jaw.

Not a kiss.

A warning. A threat. A promise.

"You’re mine now."

His voice is a growl, rough and dark and fucking sinful.

"Say it."

I clench my teeth."Go fuck yourself."

His laugh is low, deep, vibrating through my bones."I’d rather fuck you."

Fire. That’s what it feels like the moment his mouth crashes onto mine. The moment control fucking shatters. The moment I stop thinking and start burning.

It’s brutal. Violent. A battle as much as it is a surrender.

Teeth. Hands. Desperation.

I hate him.

I want him.

I want to hurt him and drown in him and fucking ruin him the way he’s ruining me.

And he knows it.

"Tell me to stop."His breath is ragged against my lips."Tell me you don’t want this."

I should. I know I should. But the words won’t come. Instead, I arch into him, my body answering for me.

He doesn’t need more encouragement. His hands are everywhere, stripping away my clothes, his touch leaving trailsof fire in their wake. When his mouth closes over my breast, I cry out, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

His tongue flicks over my nipple, teasing, tormenting, until I’m writhing beneath him, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

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