Page 67 of Choke

He’s louder, and there is no request in his tone.

I feel my pulse throbbing between his fingers, and my knees shake.

How the fuck am I supposed to move when he’s holding me like this?

His grip eases as if he can read my mind, but he doesn’t fully move away. Instead, he tugs my clit forward as he takes a step backward toward my bedroom. All I can do is follow him.

It’s awkward and painful but so intensely hot. Still, I can’t help my smart-ass tongue.

“Imagine how much faster we would get there if you fucking let go.”

The best I can do is to pretend I’m not desperate to throw myself onto that bed.

He releases me fully, but instead of letting me walk myself, he hauls me over his shoulder, my bare ass in the air. I squirm, trying to get out of his grip.

I register the sound before my body registers the sharp pain of him slapping my ass.

“Stop.”

I still instantly.

Ow.

A second later, he flings me off his shoulder, and I land on my back on the bed. From this angle, he looks 10 feet tall. This menacing devil here to pull me down to hell with him. I scoot back on the bed a few inches, but he reaches out, grasping my ankles and pulling me back to him.

From here, it’s impossible not to notice the hard outline of his dick pressing against his pants. The sight leaves me gasping. I can tell he’s huge.

When was the last time I had sex?

He’s going to rip me to pieces.

I shake the thought away. I can’t possibly want that, right?

“Actions have consequences, Morgan.”

The use of a name I haven’t heard in years sobers me. My eyes fly back up to meet his, and I know the look on his face is satisfaction over his ability to shock me.

“So, I need to know. Do you want your punishment, or do you want me to leave and never look back?”

The thought of him walking away, of never seeing those dark eyes on me again? That’s the real punishment.

I’m desperate to know what his idea of punishment feels like.

Adrian

She isn’t telling me to leave. While I want to press forward, I’m unwilling to force something on her that she doesn’t want. Her body tells me everything—how she breathes, how fucking wet she is, the way her nipples peak. She wants this. I just need her to say it. I need to know that she knows she wants this.

“What’s it gonna be?” I press.

Say it.

Her lips press closed as she fights to bite her tongue. I’ve never met anyone so fucking stubborn. We’re playing chicken right now, and there’s so much at stake. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. When Iopen them, she’s looking down toward her bed. She looks submissive like this.

I can’t be wrong.

I take a step back toward the door.

Her eyes flash to mine, and she rushes out, “No.”

---