Page 23 of Bitter Queen (Advantage Play 4)

“And what’s your safe word?”

“S-six,” she stutters.

Grabbing her face, I make her look me straight in the eye. “I’m not going to hurt you, Q. I promise. You say six, and I’m off you in a second. Understand?”

Her lower lip quivers, but she nods in my grasp, and I’ve never been more proud. This girl is braver than she thinks. I just need to make her believe it.

I release my hold and drop my hands back down to my sides, then slowly circle her. “Good. Let’s do this.”

When I’m behind her, I pull her into a bear hug, wrapping my arms around her torso and beneath her arms. But she doesn’t move a damn muscle. It’s as if my touch has the power to completely disarm her, yet I haven’t even done anything.

“Q,” I growl. “Fight me.”

Her chest rises and falls in an unsteady pattern. I squeeze her tighter and force out, “I said, fight me, Q. Now.”

She’s paralyzed.

Releasing my hold, I make her face me before leaning closer until all she can see is my ugly mug a few inches from her gorgeous, terrified face. “Look at me, Q.”

A spark ignites inside of her as she holds my stare.

“Fight me. I want you to kick and scream. I want you to fucking claw my eyes out. I want you to try. Do you think you can do that for me?”

“I–I don’t know,” she stutters.

“Can you try? Please?”

Her breath is staggered as she releases all the pent-up oxygen in her lungs before giving me a jerky nod. “I’ll try.”

“And if you can’t take it—”

“I say my safe word,” she snaps. “I get it.”

“Good girl.”

Pulling her into another bear hug from behind, I snake my arms around her ribcage, then raise her a few inches into the air and yell, “Fight!”

She wiggles against me, kicking and screaming, but it does nothing to stop me from dragging her wherever the hell I feel like taking her.

After a few seconds of struggling, I let her go and step away to give her a minute to breathe. She’s seconds from a panic attack, but my chest swells with pride at the knowledge that she didn’t use her safe word. She stayed strong.

“That was good,” I acknowledge, though I’m lying through my teeth. “But it wasn’t enough to stop me from doing whatever the hell I wanted.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to grab you again, but this time I want you to listen to what I’m saying, then follow my instructions, and we’ll see if we can get you out of that hold. Understand?”

With another jerky nod, she gives me her back and waits.

Pulling her against my chest, I keep my grip tight but not suffocating. “If you’re in this position, you want to try to headbutt me with the back of your head. Aim for my nose and forehead. If your hit connects, it’ll disorient your attacker, and their grip will loosen, giving you the chance to twist out of their grasp and get away. If your hit doesn’t connect the way you want it to, squat low and use your weight against them before trying to headbutt them again. It’s a lot harder to hold on to something that’s using gravity and their full body weight to keep them in place instead of doing half the work for them with your own legs. Does that make sense?”

Her hair tickles my chin as she nods against me. Ignoring the way she feels in my arms, I murmur, “Okay. Don’t headbutt me, but try squatting low and making yourself heavier.”

She does, and my muscles protest from the added weight. “Good. Now twist your torso and aim that elbow at my face. You want to hit over and over again. It’ll take more than one hit to get them to let you go, but you can do it.”

We practice this position a few more times before moving on to the one I fear has been used against her multiple times.

“How do you feel?” I ask.

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