Page 151 of His To Erase
She doesn’t move though, of course she fucking doesn’t. That’s my girl. She just stares at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind. And then—she laughs. The kind of laugh that tastes like gasoline right before the world catches fire.
“You really think I’m gonna crawl for you?” she flips her hair like she’s not already halfway wrecked.
“Is that how it works in your sadistic little fever dream? You bark, I beg?”
She steps toward me with her chin up, and her mouth twisted in that perfect fucking snarl. She’s so fucking hot when she thinks she’s the one holding the leash. I just might let her hold onto it for a few more seconds.
“You must’ve mistaken me for one of your other girls,” she sneers. “The ones who moan when you tell them to heel.”
I smile.
She’s exactly where I want her. All fire and venom and fucking delusion. And I want every second of her fight. Because once she breaks—she’s not getting back up without my hands on her throat and my name in her mouth.
I step back into her space, crowding her until her back hits the wall again, with a soft thud.
“They beg with their mouths. You do it with your cunt.”
Her nostrils flare when I fist the hem of her shirt and shove it over her hips. I’m about to lose what control I have left.
She slaps my hand away, and I grip the front of her throat, "You gonna slap me again?" I murmur. "Kick me? Scream?"
She doesn’t speak so I drop my voice lower, filthy enough to brand her. "Or are you gonna be a good little bitch and crawl?"
She jerks her chin back and fire flashes in her eyes. "Try me."
She's still fighting. Still lying to herself with every breath. But the tremble in her hands and the flush on her chest isn’t fear. It’s surrender trying to claw its way out, she just hasn’t figured out who she’s giving it to yet.
I grin. "Oh I plan to, on every surface in this house."
Her hands fist again. She’s flushed, and I’d bet my life she’s so fucking wet for me. I can see it in the way she bites her lip.
I close the distance in one brutal step, my fingers threading through her hair like a snare, while my other hand finds her throat again, pressing just enough to promise what I’ll take if she keeps testing me.
Her hands fly up to grab my wrist, and her nails dig into my skin. I feel her panic, her pride, and her need all pulsing against my hand but she doesn’t say stop.
“You think this is a game?” I growl, keeping my face inches from hers. The air between us hums, and it’s suffocating. “You think running that bratty mouth makes you brave?”
Her eyes are glassed over, shimmering with tears she’s too fucking stubborn to let fall. She blinks like if she fights long enough, she won’t come apart in front of me, But I’ve already carved my name into whatever’s cracking inside her.
She’s trying so fucking hard not to break—and I love that I’m the one making her. I press into her harder against the wall, my grip tightening around her throat and her knees tremble.
“Let me teach you how this works, sweetheart,” I rasp. “You don’t get to fight and stomp and scream and think there’s no cost. You mouth off? You pay for it.”
She makes a sound—gutted and raw. Part want. Part fear. And all fucking mine.
I lean in, dragging my mouth over hers and catch her bottom lip between my teeth and I bite enough to make her gasp. I swallow it, like her breath is mine to fucking own.
Her fists land against my chest—more instinct than intent—but her fingers twist in my shirt like she doesn't know if she's fighting or clinging. She moans into my mouth rubbing that sweet pussy on me.
I deepen the kiss, devouring her, grinding my cock against her stomach so she feels exactly what she’s done to me. How hard, how furious, and how far past the point of patience I am.
I pull back just enough to growl against her lips. “You think being loud makes you powerful?”
Her breath stutters like her body’s unraveling before she’s ready to admit it, but she stays quiet. And I fucking love how her body begs to be used and she moans like she hates how much she needs it.
“You want power?” I rasp, sliding my hand beneath the hem of the shirt she's still fucking wearing. My fingertips skate over hot, trembling skin. “You’re looking at it.”
I drag my hand higher— over her ribs, until I’ve got one perfect, aching breast in my palm. I squeeze hard enough to make her gasp and arch off the wall.
