Page 70 of Call It What You Want
“You should,” I say, advancing slowly.
That ember of fear flares in her eyes briefly before being replaced by a spark of excitement. There it is. That part of her she’d never admit to. But I can see it. I can see those shameful parts she keeps hidden from the rest of the world.
She likes the fear, craves it.
I’m within a few feet of her, my mind working out all the ways I’m going to fuck her raw, when I move—fast. I grab her before she can bolt, my hands locking around her waist. She jerks against me, thrashing, shoving, fighting like a wild thing. I haul her toward the bed and throw her down, following her in the same motion until I’m on top of her, pinning her there.
“You’re just fucking begging to be punished,” I growl, my hands on either side of her head, caging her in.
“I hate you, Jackson McKnight,” she seethes, eyes narrowed.
Before I can respond, she lifts her head and bites down on my shoulder, her blunt teeth sinking into my skin like a rottweiler latching onto a chew toy.
“Fuck,” I hiss through gritted teeth, but she doesn’t release me. I have to wrench my shoulder away. When I do, there’s blood smeared across her mouth.
“Mmm.” She licks the blood off her lips. “You taste bitter, like lies and hypocrisy.”
What the fuck?
Annoyance cuts through me. No one gets the upper hand. Not her, not anyone. I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Careful, baby. You’re playing a very dangerous game.”
Her eyes narrow on me. “Maybe it’s you who should be careful.”
I can’t help but chuckle at her bravery. “Respectfully,” I say, tightening my grip, dipping my head, so our lips are dangerously close. “You’re the one pinned down, about to get fucked so hard, you’ll feel me inside you long after I’m gone.”
She laughs. Then I see it, the flash of steel. My knife. The one I left on the bed. And just like that, the tables are turned, and the hunted becomes the hunter…
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ava
Am I really going to stab him? I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t want to feel vulnerable anymore. I don’t want to feel the things I’m feeling right now.
He’s always so strong, always the one holding the cards, and for once, I want to see the flash of fear inhiseyes…
When he catches sight of the knife in his peripheral vision, he jerks back on instinct. That gives me a split-second to roll out from under him, and pop up onto my knees, knife clutched in my fist.
But instead of fear, all I see is amusement on his annoyingly symmetrical face. “What are you planning to do with that?” he asks, his voice calm. Too calm. “Are you going to stab me, Ava?”
The knife feels heavy in my hand, and my heart is pounding so hard, it’s all I can hear. I know he’s likely to just reach over and snatch this knife away from me, but I can’t stop. Not yet. Not when, for the first time, I feel like I might have the upper hand.
“Put the knife down, and I won’t make the punishment hurt too badly,” he says casually. “But if I have to take it from you…”
He lets the end of that sentence linger, so my imagination can fill in all the horrible possibilities. Well, joke’s on him, because all those possibilities just excite me more. The idea of being punished by him makes my pussy throb, which just goes to show how truly fucked up I am…
I slide off the bed, backing up, the knife still raised, my heart hammering. Every nerve is screaming, every part of me wired with excitement. He follows me off the bed, steps closer, slow, measured, and for a second, the thrill spikes. This is exactly how I like it.
But then—too fast, too smooth—he’s there. One hand on my wrist, and before I can even react, the knife’s out of my hand. It clatters to the floor, and suddenly my excitement shifts into anticipation.
He’s close, too close, his gaze pinning me in place. “Thought you could hold me off?” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“What are you going to do?”
“You can’t expect to pull a knife on me without suffering the consequences,” he says.
Nowthatpisses me off. “You pulled it on me first.”
His gaze eats me up. He steps closer, slides his fingers under the gold chain around my neck, and palms the pendant. The necklace has become such a part of me, I’d forgotten I was still wearing it.
