I keep teasing her clit with slow measured rubs. It’s fucking torture for both of us, but I don’t stop. Not when my cock nears exploding out of my jeans. Not when her back arches and she keeps calling my name in a plea.
Her entire body is flushed and under my fucking mercy.
My forefinger slips beneath her undies. The moment my skin touches hers, she moans so loud, I almost blow in my trousers like a bloody teenager.
Her lids screw shut. I stop but don’t remove my hand. “Look at me. You don’t get to hide, beautiful.”
She does open her eyes, but they’re filled with lust and raw defiance. I recognise her need to fight before she even moves. It’s a mirror of my own sick fantasies.
I let her kick me because it turns me fucking on like I’m sure it has the same effect on her.
Her head hits mine. Pain throbs in my forehead, and I’m sure it hurts her a lot worse. She winces and shoves me away, and we roll so I’m on my back. I grab a handful of her hips. She yanks on my hair. I pull her down so my lips are inches away from hers while she straddles my stomach. I breathe her in. Her fight. Her glares. That pure fucking lust.
“I’m going to fuck that bitchiness out of you, beautiful.” I try to flip her down.
She squirms free and to her feet. A gleam shines in her eyes. “I’d like to see you try, arsehole.”
I hop up and clutch her uppercut. I place my hands on her shoulders and shove her down on her knees. “Let’s start with that mouth.”
She attempts to stand, but I effortlessly pin her down with a hand while the other fumbles with my belt.
I’m done playing.
“Don’t!” She shouts, and when her eyes meet mine, they’re no longer shining with defiance, lust or even fear.
She’s under a panic attack like the other time.
“Not on my knees!” Her hysterical shout breaks into a barely audible whisper as if she’s pleading with me. “Not on my knees…”
I let go of my trousers. She’s panicking because of the position? My vision turns black when her eyes rim with tears. Fucking hell. She was wrestling me like a champion seconds ago but now, she looks like a broken doll.
I bloody hate that.
Omega’s haze is substituted by something a lot worse. Rage. All I think about is that I need to cut open whoever caused her to be like this. I need their screams, their dead gazes, and their blood.
The idea of killing for someone else is a first for me, but Zoe already snatched away a lot of firsts.
I remove my hand from her shoulder slowly to not alert her. As soon as I let her go, the door swings open. Heels clack behind me before Mist’s fuming face comes into view. She stares between me and Zoe. Tears stream down her cheeks as she slouches on the floor, shaking. She’s not even attempting to stand.
When I crouch to help her up, Mist slaps my hand away and hauls Zoe to her feet. Apparently out of her daze, the latter wipes her cheeks.
“Are you all right?” Mist inspects her like a mother measures her kid after an accident.
Zoe nods, head bowed. Then, she runs out of the storage room without sparing me a glance.
The moment the door shuts behind her, Mist slams her fist in my face. Now, that’s a punch that fucking hurts.
“What is wrong with you?” She shoves me. My shoulders hit a shelf and the iron bar digs in my skin. “Since when do you bully the girls?”
I never did. Actually, I never touched any of the ones who work here. But with Zoe? Fucking hell. She stirred the real monster inside me and now it can’t be tamed or put back in its cage.
The reason I’m not ruining Mist’s face for punching me is because I’m deep in thought. Zoe’s panic mode when I forced her on her knees nags at me and leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
What the bloody hell happened to her?
Mist clutches me by the collar so I’m staring at her hardened hazel eyes. I always thought they were muddy greens like those in abandoned forests.
“Listen here, Shadow. No one forces any of the girls under my watch. I don’t care that you’re special to Ghost. If you do something to Zoe, I’ll fucking castrate you.”