Page 137 of His To Erase
He drags his mouth along the curve of my jaw. “You fight so pretty.” He keeps his voice low. “You don’t even know your cunt’s begging to get used.”
I gasp, a sharp, involuntary sound, and his grip on my wrists tightens just enough to make me ache even more than I already am. I try to relieve some of the tension by arching my back, but it just presses me into him more.
“You’re not going to run again,” he growls. “You’re going to stand there, just like this, and remember exactly how fucking wet you got for me.”
His free hand skims down my side, grazing my breasts. “But I’m not going to let you come,” he adds. “Not until I say.”
A whimper escapes my throat—humiliation, heat, and desperation. You name it, and I’m currently experiencing it. He’s right, I’m a needy slut right now. All I can think about is getting off. I can’t even think straight.
Then, just when I think I’m about to come undone—he lets go. Leaving me breathless and soaked with nothing but bark at my back and fire between my legs.
“Now, get in the car.”
My panties are fucking ruined and I’m two seconds away from falling to my knees and begging.
His eyes narrow. “Now.”
I stare at him. At his mouth. At the cock still hard beneath his jeans.
“God,” I mutter, trying to keep my voice from cracking, “you’re obsessed with hearing yourself talk.”
His jaw ticks but he doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
If I move first, he wins. If he moves, I don’t trust myself not to crawl to him and make a bigger mess than I already am. So I do the only thing that gives me back any ounce of control—I shove past him.
My shoulder clips his—intentionally. Every step I take is tight and rigid, while I try to outpace the ache in my chest and the humiliation curdling in my gut.
I yank open the car door, throwing myself into the passenger seat, and slam it shut like I’m the one with the power here.
The engine growls to life, and gravel spits behind us like we’re being chased. I cross my arms tight across my chest, fingers digging into skin that still feels too hot, but I stay quiet.
I stare out the window like it’s a portal to another life. One where I still had dignity and my body didn’t betray me every time he looked in my general direction.
At least I forgot about the whole someone broke into my apartment thing for a minute. So, there’s that.
Ani
The road winds tighter the higher we climb, trees crowding in like they know where we’re headed. When the car finally slows, gravel crunches beneath the tires, and my stomach does the kind of slow roll that usually comes with regret—or foreplay.
“You aren’t taking me to a hotel?” I mutter under my breath.
Steven doesn’t even look at me. “Do I look like someone who books hotel rooms?” he says. “If you wanted a hotel, you wouldn’t have called me.”
That shuts me up. This—him—was never going to be safe. It was never going to be soft. I guess in some way, he’s not wrong about that either.
The car rolls to a stop, and for a second, neither of us moves. The house looms ahead, all stone and shadow.
He gets out and doesn't wait for me. By the time I slam my door and follow him up the stairs, he’s already unlocking the front door and pushing it open.
Heat spills out and I hover in the doorway, pulse hammering.
He glances over his shoulder. “Inside.”
I step in and close the door behind me, the soft click echoes like a decision I can’t take back. He tosses his keys on the table and shrugs out of his jacket, but I don’t move.
“Do you want me in the room I was in before?” I ask, pretending I didn’t just come apart in the woods and still want him.
