Page 81 of Ravens
“The devil would know, wouldn’t he?” I level the accusation as I look at him again.
He smiles broadly at the insinuation and looks off to the fire. “You’re right. I do want to hate-fuck you. And I want it to be spectacular and as violent as I know you're capable of. I want to give you all the things I know you want from me, from him . . . and I want you to hate me while I’m doing it and afterward.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “And . . . maybe sometime in the future I’d want to do it again.”
“What you’re looking for is a prostitute. Go get one.”
“I’ve got one right here.”
My eyes close like weights are attached. I can’t even begin to manage the rage that floods my system. Despite knowing I’m being goaded, my arm rockets out, and I backhand him across the jaw. His head snaps to the side, but he doesn’t waste any time spearing me with his shoulder.
We tumble to the floor from the couch, and I clip him in the cheek with the back of my head before he tosses me over and jerks me under his frame. He shifts his thigh as I bring my knee up into his groin, but he pins my leg out to the side, dodging the hit. It isn’t long before the only thing free is my head, and I’m panting, glaring at him as he settles his weight against me, stiff cock included.
“This isn’t even close to your best,” he pants out gently and sinks his face into my sweater between my breasts, taking a deep breath. “Not even close. I watched you today, just like you wanted . . . You aren’t this helpless.”
I hate that he knows that. I hate that he knows more about me in a day than York has puzzled out in a week. He shifts forward, dragging his hardened length up between my legs, and my whole body vibrates in response. When his lips brush mine, I crack my head into his eye socket.
Cursing, he rears back, and I bring my leg up, nailing him in the balls. Winded and groaning, he tips forward, and I punch him in the jaw for good measure. The crack of the bone against my knuckles sends a searing pain through my hand, but I savor it and shove him over.
“That wasn’t even close to my fucking best either.” I get to my feet.
From the flat of his back, the laugh is pained but a laugh, nonetheless. “That’s my girl.”
“Don’t call me that.” I point at him. “Asshole.”
“You can pretend you don’t like it all you want.” He shakes his head and groans softly as he props himself up on his elbow. “I see it in your eyes every time I come at you . . . every time I speak. You fucking love it.” Slowly, he gains his feet and rubs his jaw. “Fuck,” he groans. “I think I’m even harder now.”
My eyes widen, and he smiles deviously. My heart thuds, and I scramble, darting out of the room. I can hear his footfalls behind me, making my heartbeat skyrocket. I fucking hate being chased in confined spaces. I hate it. It makes me . . . panic.
I toss a few chairs over in the dining room as I dash through the other door to the kitchen and run down the length of it to the mudroom, where I slam into the wall before turning to grab the door.
My heart is nearly leaping out of my throat when I yank the door open and scramble across the small deck, leaping over the four stairs and hitting the cool, damp grass in my thick socks. There isn’t much around here. Some trees around the house proper, but other than that, it’s just fields for half a mile before there are some scant trees marking the property line.
Still, I run.
Out in the open, my heart calms a bit. I could run forever out in the open. I love running. My legs carry me easily as I lope through the tall grass and the distant trees inch closer and closer. I haven’t run like this in ages. A smile pulls at my lips as my legs pump furiously, but I make the mistake of glancing over my shoulder.
He’s less than a dozen yards behind me.
Fuck.
I dig deep, picking up the pace, and in a minute, I blow through the treeline, but it’s too dark this far from the house, and I realize I don’t know this area at all. My foot catches on a root, and I pitch forward, crashing to the ground with a shout of pain. I roll over, and don’t see him, but it’s utterly black out here . . . so I can’t be sure.
Getting my feet under me, I feel for the root I tripped on and follow it to the trunk of the tree it belongs to and pull myself up against it. I’m breathing too hard. It’s too loud, but he could have bailed in the field, and I wouldn’t know. Jesus, I can’t see anything.
An arm wraps around my neck, squeezing. I kick back but miss, and then I’m lifted off my feet and dragged away from the tree.
His chest heaves against my back, and his hot breath flashes against my cheek as his other arm wraps around my waist. “Say yes to me.”
I squirm against his hold, gritting my teeth, but he lifts me off the ground again. When he puts me back down, his lips press into my cheek, and his hand fists my hair, and my whole body vibrates again. My head is nodding rapidly before I realize it and the word “yes” spills off my tongue.
He pushes me forward into the tree, my cheek pressed to the damp bark as my head spins and my heart hammers.
“Say it again,” he groans as his body presses into mine.
I want it. I want it really badly now, but I don’t want him to get his way entirely.
“Get off me,” I hiss.
Freezing at my words, it takes a moment, and his breathing stutters, but his arms slip away, and he steps back from me. I push myself away from the tree and turn around, dropping my back against it as I pant. William isn’t that bad after all, it seems. I really didn’t think consent would be a sticky point for him.
