Page 154 of Brutal
The beast’s lair.
“You think you’re going to frighten me now?” she says.
“It doesn’t matter if I do.” I sear my gaze into her. “You’re here, and I’m going to do what I please with you.”
She laughs this time, as if she can’t believe I said it, like she can’t believe any of this is real. She lifts her chin, showing off the pink rash from my beard against her jaw.
She’s more brave than smart. Or vice versa. I’ve stopped being able to tell the difference and I don’t care anyway.
I step into her space, crowding her backward until her knees hit the bed. She sits, palms splayed on the mattress, her whole body crackling with a dare.
If I wanted her on her back, she’d already be there. But I want her upright, eyes level with mine. I want her awake for every second of this.
“I could make you beg,” I say, suppressing a cruel smile. I don’t disguise the hunger in my voice.
She blinks. “Maybe you could. But you won’t.”
The edge in her voice, all that boldness. I could snap it in half.
But she dares me with her mouth, with those soft, perfect lips, and I feel my control burning to shreds.
I stand between her knees and fist a hand in her hair, gripping it, forcing her head back enough that she can feel the threat humming from my skin to hers.
“Why won’t I?” I stare her down, daring her to answer wrong.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. “You like to watch, Samson. You want to see what I do.”
She’s right. It’s disgusting how right she is, how I want to see what she becomes for me. With me. Because of me.
I want to see her surrender, and I want her to know she does it willingly. I want her to never stop thinking about who she becomes in my hands.
My cock gives such a lurch that it hurts, but I don’t move to touch her. Not yet.
She sits there, head bent at the angle I hold it, her pulse thudding against my fingers where they bite into her scalp. Still defiant. Still hunting for the upper hand.
I want her to win, and I want her to shatter. I want to see her smile in victory and then sob in loss, both in the same night, both on the same lips.
She’s still wearing the leather coat I gave her, the sleeves covering her hands. She’s small like this, perched on my bed, dwarfed by oversized pillows and the heavy darkness of my room.
“Take it off,” I say, my voice gravelly.
She laughs a little, a choked sound. “You’re overbearing.”
She waits for me to move, to force her, but I don’t. I let go of her hair and step back.
She stands and quickly sheds the coat.
“The rest,” I grit out.
“You first this time.”
I let out a humorless chuckle. “You’re forgetting how this works, my beautiful little bitch. You’re mine in here. Mine, Delaney. And if you don’t undress for me right now, you’ll pay the price.”
She likes that, or she wants me to think she does. Her mouth twitches. Some last stitch of pride struggling to hold.
“You’ll have to make me.”
Lust, rage, desire—all of them pulse through me at the speed of light.
