s the last word by shoving himself deeper into my throat. I choke, and he lets me struggle for a few seconds before easing up.
“Brandon Havatti, Carlos Santonio, Tyler Sanders…” he continues to list off every man I’ve been with. Which admittedly isn’t that many, but it’s a lot when you’ve just put their life in danger.
He jerks my head back sharply, allowing me a single breath as he says, “I’ll enjoy killing each and every one of them, little mouse.”
Before I can muster a response, let alone another breath of precious air, he’s back to choking me on his cock again.
My vision darkens around the edges from how deeply he’s plunging into my throat. It doesn’t matter how much I gag and fight against him, he only grows impossibly harder.
“You want me to come in your mouth, don’t you? You’ve been thinking about sucking my cock since you worshipped me on your knees with a belt wrapped around that pretty little neck of yours.”
I glare up at him, hate burning brighter than lust for just a moment. He smiles—or rather bares his teeth—when he sees the anger reflecting from my brown eyes.
“You want it, but you’re not going to fucking get it. You haven’t earned that privilege yet.”
Without warning, he jerks my head back hard, his cock popping free.
He lifts me up by my hair until I’m on the tip of my toes.
“Zade, please,” I whimper, my vision blurred from the tears and chest tight due to lack of oxygen. I’m not even sure what I’m begging for—my life or the innocent men I’ve just put on death row.
“That’s such a good girl,” he praises. “I love it when you’re scared and begging.”
Just when I finally think I can breathe again, he steals it right back. His lips seal over mine in an electrifying kiss. My nails claw against his chest, earning me a low growl as he consumes my mouth with his own.
The energy between us crackles and explodes as we both drink from each other. Sparks of fire and the taste of bitter wine invade my tongue.
Poison has never tasted so good.
As our tongues fight for dominance, he grips my waist and lifts me effortlessly. My legs instinctively curl around his trim waist just as I feel the cool glass press against my back.
The temperature warring in my body feels just like his yin-yang eyes. The chill from the mirror threatens to send shivers curling through my body, yet the press of his body against my own is scorching hot.
A sharp bite of my pain on either side of my hips has me gasping into his mouth. In one swift tug, he rips my thong away from my body, the shredded fabric getting trapped somewhere between our bodies.
He pulls away and positions the head of his cock at the entrance.
“Spread your pussy for me, little mouse,” he orders. I open my mouth to argue, ready to tell him to just fuck me, but the look on his face renders me speechless.
Frustration mounting, I reach both hands between our bodies and do as he says. A red flush stains my chest as I spread myself apart. It’s demeaning when he knows I’m not supposed to want it.
He knows I want him to force himself inside me. And as punishment for insulting him, he’s going to make me show him how much I want him. By spreading my pussy and inviting him in.
God, I hate him.
His hands tighten on my hips painfully. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up with handprint bruises, and a part of me dreads that. It will be impossible to forget what happened when I’m wearing the imprint of his hands on my skin.
“Don’t you dare move your hands,” he threatens, a second before he’s pulling me down on his awaiting dick.
“Ah!” I shout, my hands seconds from flying to his chest so I can push off of him. He’s too much, stretching me wider than I’ve ever been.
My eyes are rounded into giant saucers as I whimper from the assault. I feel his girth slide between my fingers as he works himself inside deeper. “Stop! It doesn’t fit,” I gasp.
“What a poor little mouse,” he coos mockingly, his tone husky and tight. “Maybe one day you’ll let me treat this cunt like glass and show it all my love, but you’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you?”
When I don’t answer, he jerks me down on him harder, earning another pained whimper. “Haven’t you?” he barks.
“Yes!” I shout breathlessly, squeezing my eyes shut against the invasion.
“Are you going to be a good little girl now?”
“Yes,” I mewl desperately. The pain is morphing into something far more intense and breathtaking. He slides out and pushes back in, gentler this time, but no less angry.