Page 35 of Brutal Obsession

“You heard me.”

“Why are you such a fucking asshole?” For Pete’s sake. Maybe if Cian was a nicer guy, I’d be okay with him making me come. But he’s not.

Cian Mahoney is a menace. A self-indulgent player Ataker.

“Why are you such a monumental pain in my ass?”

“Oh, I’m a pain inyourass?” I spit the words. “How about this? I’ll go jump off a cliff, and you can go home and tell everyone I died. Then you can wash your hands of me.”

This is the part where I should storm off, only marching away with my underwear binding my ankles seems like an exercise in humiliation. And I refuse to tarnish my dignity by bending over to hike them back up.

Instead, I step out of them and try to leave.

Cian blocks me with his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

His voice drops another octave, generating fear and a little too much fascination within my chest.

I ignore his question. “Move.”

He stands firm. “Not this time.”

He pins me against the door again, propping one of his legs between mine to prevent any ideas of escape.

Even though I hate his guts, reignited lust reignites rises like bread inside me.

“Look here, you little flight risk.” He presses his forehead to mine. “It took months to track your ass down. I’m not losing you a second time.”

My heart performs a nervous somersault. Losing me? What is he even saying?

Determination darkens his eyes. “And I’mgoingto make you come, whether you like it or not.”

Oh crap. Nerves flicker in my belly like fireflies. “Cian?—”

Cian cuts off my protest by hooking his hand under my left knee and hoisting my leg up. Before I can demand an explanation, he shoves three fingers back inside me with his other hand.

He growls near my ear. “Shut up and enjoy it.”

“Fuck you.”

A torrent of pleasure rips another moan from my throat, negating the bite of my words.

Cian chuckles again. “You should know that you cursing only turns me on more. Besides, you actually want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

I dig my hands into his shoulders, trying to push him away, but he leans against me. I’m no match for the density of his body combined with gravity.

I drop my head, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my face as he comes closer to wrecking me. Watching his muscular, veiny forearm propel his fingers in and out of my body arouses me more than I thought possible.

His palm grinds against my sweet spot again, and like a standing ovation gathering enthusiasm, pleasure mounts, carrying me along for the ride.

He’s going to do it. He’s going to make me come all over his fingers.

I wanted my first penetrative orgasm to be with someone who loves me, and instead, I’m sharing what should have been a special moment with someone who probably forgets his sexual encounters the second they end.

Fooling around with him a little is one thing.

This is different. He wants me to reveal a truly intimate moment and fall apart in front of him.

He wants to watch as he reduces me to a whimpering mess.

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