Page 11 of Queen
“No.”
Her voice flat, but her fists clench. She doesn’t cross the threshold fully. Smart. She knows it’s dangerous here.
I sip slowly, deliberately. “Suit yourself.”
She folds her arms, shoulders rigid. “If you think I came here to fall back into your bed—”
“I don’t expect you to fall.” I rise, smooth and controlled, glass still in my hand. “I expect you to shatter.”
Her eyes flash—fear and fury colliding. Not fear of me. Fear of herself. Fear of what I make her remember.
She turns to leave. I don’t allow it.
Two strides and she’s against the wall, the chill of stone meeting her back as I press the rim of the glass to her throat. Not hard. Just enough. Her pulse leaps.
“You were mine before you were ever his,” I whisper, low enough to scrape bone. “You think marriage erased that? You think his ring erased me?”
“Fuck you.”
I set the glass aside. My hand tangles in her hair, tilting her face up.
“No,” I growl. “You already have, and you will again.”
Her breath stutters. She shoves at my chest—weak, betraying herself. Her eyes flicker like sparks refusing to die.
“You still want me.”
“I want you dead.”
“You’ll scream for me first.”
Her mouth opens—to curse me, maybe to beg. I don’t let her.
She swears at me, shoving weakly at my chest. I can see the desire in her eyes, the spark that refuses to die. I press her against the wall, my hand slipping under her dress. Her underwear is no match for me as I slide it aside, finding the moist lips of her pussy. She moans, trying to push me away, but I'm not deterred.
"Fuck, Zina. You're so wet," I groan, my movements becoming more frantic.
My fingers brushing her core, my touch sends a jolt of pleasure through her. “Always so wet for me.”
As her waves of pleasure begin to subside, I pull my fingers free, bringing them to my lips, my eyes never leaving hers. “You’re mine, and you always will be.”
“You think you can resist me?” “You think you can walk away?”
I press my lips to hers, tasting the sweetness of her mouth. She responds with a bite that draws blood from my lower lip. I'm annoyed, but also excited as my hot sexual impulse takes over.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper. “So fucking beautiful.”
“You’re still mine,” I murmur, my lips brushing against the hollow of her throat. “Always have been. Always will be.”
Zina’s eyes meet mine, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. “I hate you,” she whispers, her voice barelyaudible. But her hands still on my chest, her body still pressed against mine, and the words feeling like a lie.
I smile, a dangerous, knowing smile. “Prove it,” I say, “When I’m done, you’ll never forget who you belong to.”
Grabbing her shoulder, I spin her around to face the wall, lifting her dress to reveal her plump ass cheeks. Tearing her underwear down, I find your plump ass cheeks inviting me to enjoy her moist juices building.
I can't resist the invitation and bend her over, first inserting a finger deep into her wet pussy. I catch the scent of her arousal, musky and sweet, a testament to her body’s betrayal and her hunger for my dick. I loosen my belt, lowering my pants to reveal my erect manhood.
She’s trembling now, her body responding with a desperation that’s undeniable. She wants me. She wants me with a ferocity that threatens to consume her.
