I still glare, because it isn’t fair he can talk to me, but I have no method of responding. It gives him the illusion of having a conversation, but in fact he’s the only one truly talking.
“I’ll give you your mobile back,” he says. “But swear to God, woman, you send me one angry text and you’ll find my palm across yer arse. Understood?”
I nod, chastened.
He hands me my phone, and I immediately text you are a bossy prick, but I delete it before I send it and earn myself a spanking. I draw in a deep breath, then let it out again, before I respond.
It angers me that you think I’m an ally with them. That’s why I responded the way I did.
He shakes his head. “There’s no ally in this. It’s one challenging relationship pitted against another, and there likely won’t be any clear victors.” He blows out a breath. “There never are.”
I nod, understanding what he means by this. Sometimes there are no winners. Sometimes there are no bad guys. Sometimes, it’s just survival of the fittest.
But where does this leave me? From what little I’ve seen of his home and family, I hate the thought of going anywhere else. I definitely don’t want to go back home, only to be mistreated and abused by my brother and mother. I won’t be held back and repressed anymore. I’m so angry and frustrated at not being able to really communicate how I feel.
He reaches for my chin.
I look at him, curious what he’s thinking. His eyes look heated, his grip is iron.
He shakes his head from side to side, the stern Leith returning. How familiar.
“I ought to fuck that anger right out of you,” he drawls in my ear, his accent thicker when he’s aroused.
I try to pull away, but my body responds of its own accord. I draw in a ragged breath, eager to feel him again. Eager to be dominated by him.
“I ought to make you come until you crave my pleasure, until the very thought of disobeying strikes fear in your heart.”
I’m melting, I’m losing all semblance of autonomy, as he’s laying me back on the large, comfortable sofa, the firelight flicking behind him.
“I need to train you,” he whispers in my ear, and damn, why is that hot, too?
“Lie back.”
I do what he says, lying back on the sofa as he positions himself above me.
“I ought to fuck you,” he whispers, holding my gaze. “Until you feel me all over you. My marks on your arse. My hot seed spilling onto your thighs. My cock, plunging into you and leaving a mark while your pussy milks it.”
If I could moan, the sounds would mingle with the sound of the crackling flames, the room and my body both engulfed in heat and flames.
“I want to fuck you,” he whispers in my ear. “I wanted to fuck you from the very first moment I saw you.”
It’s why he’s taken me here, why I’m not alone in an attic room anymore. It was his plan all along, and I should be afraid.
I swallow hard, not sure how to respond, because the truth is, even though he scares me, even though I’m afraid of him, I’ve never wanted something so much in my life.
* * *
Chapter Eleven
Leith
She’s fighting it, but that makes her all the more appealing to me. She pushes me, but just enough so that she knows she isn’t spreading her legs for me of her own accord. She can’t hide the obvious signs of her arousal, and she doesn’t want me to suspect that I’ve gotten away with everything.
I love that she’s fighting, for when I conquer her, the victory will be that much sweeter.
I kiss her, and her mouth parts. My tongue meets hers, but she’s still fighting me even as her breathing becomes more rapid and her arms wrap around me. She’s anchoring herself to me even as she wants to push me away.
“Is this what you need from me?” I whisper in her ear. “You do, don’t you?”
She glares and shakes her head, as she pulls her arms away from me and pushes at my chest. I capture her wrists and hold them, challenging her by meeting her gaze.
“You want me to walk away, then? Leave you here? Maybe bring you to the guest room and leave you for the night, hmm?”
It’s mean, I fucking know it, but I fight this part of myself that demands control.
She blinks, and a desperate longing fills her eyes. She looks to her mobile but I shake my head.
“No,” I say stoutly. “You got mouthy in those texts. You’ve lost permission to text me.”
She tries to wriggle her wrists out of my grasp, but I hold fast.
“Listen to me. Stop fighting and bloody listen to me.”
She draws in a deep breath, then releases it, and finally nods.