She makes to turn, but I grab her wrist, stopping her. There’s no question that I should let her leave, but an odd sense of entitlement wants an explanation. There’s a simple one, of course. She nearly died, but fear isn’t something that goes hand in hand with Rose. She’s made that obvious from day one, so what’s changed? “Let me go.” She’s begging. It makes me more suspicious.
“No,” I reply, no anger or frustration entering my tone. It’s just a simple no.
Looking up at me, she fights to control her wobbling lip. “You need to send me away, Danny.”
“Fuck, no.” I laugh, but nowhere near amusement. “You forget why you’re here, Rose.”
“Yes,” she yells, violently snatching her arm out of my hold. “Yes, I have forgotten. So remind me.” Her palm is sailing toward my face before I register she’s moved, and though I still have time to avoid her aim, I don’t. I let her slap my face with force, her anger fueling the power. I know what she’s doing. She wants me to hit her back. To remind her. I don’t hit her. Won’t. But I do take her neck lightly and back her up to the nearest wall. I’m angry, yes, but not because she’s slapped me. I’m fucking mad because she’s backtracking. I finally gave in, and now she’s taking it away. I won’t fucking let her.
I thrust her back into the wall and flex my fingers around her throat, pushing my face up to hers. My snarl is very real. My blood is very hot. I can feel her swallows against my palm, her face tight with indignation. I spin her around and push her front forward into the wall, holding her by the back of her neck with one hand, sliding my thumb into the edge of her knickers with the other. She inhales sharply but doesn’t fight me off.
“You want a piece of me, Rose?” I spit, ripping her knickers off and tossing them aside. She cries out, her head falling back on her shoulders. It gives me perfect access to her neck, my mouth falling there naturally. I lick the column of her throat. She tastes like salt. Salt, sea, and fucking heaven. “The real me?” I bite down on her flesh hard, reaching for her tits and yanking the cups of her bra down. I feel no resistance. I hear no refusal. Consent is dotted over every inch of her body in the form of fire. My cock swells behind my boxers, lurching against the material, straining hard. I pull down the waistband and free it, groaning when the tip skims the crease of her arse. “Tell me you want it.” I take hold of my dick and trace lines across her arse, leaving trails of pre-cum as I go. “Tell me you want my thick cock smashing into your desperate pussy.”
Her fists come up to the wall and slam hard, my teeth sinking into the flesh of her neck again.
“Tell me.” Suddenly, I need that verbal go-ahead. I need her to beg.
“No.” Her breathy refusal isn’t telling me I can’t fuck her. But I still won’t. Not until she gives me the magic word. It takes everything in me, but I drop my cock, drop her body, and drop her neck from my mouth, moving back. “No,” she screams the moment I’m no longer touching her, slumping against the wall, her fists going mad, bashing against it.
If I wasn’t so fucking frustrated, I’d smile. But smiling is beyond me now. Way beyond me. “Fuck off out of my room,” I snarl. “Get the fuck out of my room before I throw you out.” I either throw her out or fuck her blind without the okay I need. I can’t do that. I refuse to do that, no matter how much she wants me to. No matter how much I need to.
She rolls against the plaster, showing no signs of obeying my command. It fuels the fire inside me, both the desire and the anger. I steam forward grabbing her arm and manhandling her to the door. She fights me, just as I expected, trying to pry my fingers from her flesh, hitting and smacking me as I drag her to the door. It would be easy to lose my cool. Easy to knock her to the ground with one slap. I’ve never had the urge to lash out at a woman, and not even my lack of control in