Page 42 of Riot's Thorn
“Not exactly. After we’re married, I’d call Bart and tell him you belong to the club now. I’d assure him you won’t be a problem, which puts the club’s reputation up as collateral, and that’s more valuable than money in our world.”
“That’s stupid.”
“It’s actually very smart.” He stands and walks over to the pantry to tuck his rats in for the night.
“This has to be a nightmare. Each day since you killed my dad has been worse than the last.”
“You need to calm down. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” My voice erupts into a full-blown shout, echoing off the walls. “You aren’t the one whose entire existence has been turned upside down.”
“I said to calm down.” He steps toward me with a threatening air, but I’m beyond the realm of self-preservation. I’m so utterly done with this nightmare I’ve been thrust into, and if there’s no escape for me, I’m going to make my existence his problem.
“Or what? You’ll choke me again? Go ahead. Only don’t stop this time—because marrying you is a fate worse than death.” My words, dripping with venom, only provoke him further as he closes the gap between us with deliberate steps.
“No, Little Thorn. Now that I’ve claimed you, you’re not going anywhere—not even to heaven, where spoiled brats like you go because”—he looms over me, forcing me to tilt my head back just to meet his gaze—“even when the Reaper comes to takeme away, you won’t be free of me. No, I’ll drag you to the depths of hell right alongside me.”
“And I’m just supposed to accept that?”
“Look around. Do you see any other choices?” He grips my chin, forcing my head from side to side, hammering his point home.
“I hate you!” I shove him with all my might, but he barely budges. This is a gamble; he could easily slip into the dark recesses of his mind like he did before, but I’m far past reason. “I fucking hate you!” My fists clench, and I pummel his chest with all the fury I can muster. “Do you hear me? I hate you!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
RIOT
Igrab her fists and push her backward until she hits the wall. Apparently, this is the only way I can get her to listen to me. “You don’t hate me.”
“Yes, I do.” She fights with all her might to shove me away, but her attempts are futile.
I pin her hands above her head, feeling the tension between us as I press my thigh between her legs to stop any attempt to kick. She thinks this is a fight, but for me, this is foreplay. My cock is pressing painfully against the zipper of my jeans.
She wouldn’t be struggling like this if she only knew the thrill it brings me to assert control over her. Part of me is ashamed of how much enjoyment I get from this power dynamic, but there’s an undeniable thrill in it that I want to explore further.
“No, you don’t,” I say. “You hate losing all your precious control.”
“How am I losing control?”
“You carefully constructed every aspect of your life to be perfect, from your appearance to the degree you were pursuing.” I lean in so my lips hover close to her ear. “And I’m the wrecking ball smashing through that house of glass, showing youeverything you thought you wanted was built on a foundation of lies. That, Little Thorn, is what you hate.”
“Get off me,” she whispers.
“You sure you want that?”
“Yes. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
“Then why are you grinding your pussy on my thigh?” We both look between our bodies, where her hips are instinctually circling. “Tell me, if I were to reach into your panties right now, what would I find?”
“I said to get off me,” she repeats, but her tone is hot and breathy, which means she’s saying one thing but means another. Plus, I wasn’t lying; she’s been rubbing that hot cunt on me since I pinned her down.
“Fine. But before I do, I want to hear the words. Tell me you don’t want me to play with your virgin pussy and show you all the many ways I can make you come.”
“Riot.” She swallows hard, and her hips circle again.
“What, Little Thorn?” I tilt my head and lean in until I’m a hairsbreadth away from kissing her. The energy between us is palpable, and regardless of her words, she wants this. She tilts her head back the smallest amount, which would touch her lips to mine, but I’m expecting it and pull back. “You can’t say it because that’s not what you want, is it? No, I think you want me to teach you what it feels like to be owned by a man. Am I right?”
“You’re wrong,” she says, but her body tells a different story. Her back bows, pressing her heaving tits against me.
