Page 23 of Midnight Torment

“Let me go, Jordan,” I replied, my hand against the wall bunched into a fist.

Most men say they want a submissive woman in the bedroom. Those were the men who hadn’t a clue how to use their cock and didn’t want their partner to clue them into that fact. Jordan knew how to wield the weapon between his legs with the same accuracy that he used with his gun. He was a Dom in the Twilight Rooms but excitement sparked in his eyes the more I fought him. His pelvis pressed mine into the wall and it wasn’t just his gaze that registered his enthusiasm.

But the devil on my shoulder was still in control and I was in a pissy mood. “I’m not playing this game anymore, Jordan. I’m going home to my little apartment where I don’t have to put up with moody men who are trying to rule the world.”

“Megan.” His tone held a warning that I refused to take.

I struggled, my hips bumping into his when I arched my spine. “You don’t get to play God on our relationship this time, Jordan. I’m leaving while there is still some pride left inside me.”

His thumb at the side of my throat traced up and down in a way that made me want to purr. My unrestrained hand came up to push against his shoulder, but his strength was far greater than mine. Jordan’s head dipped until his lips touched my ear.

“I taught you to fight harder than this,” he said in that husky tone that sent shivers rippling down my spine to culminate in a wanton need between my legs.

I refused to be a pawn that could be moved about his chessboard. I didn’t give a fuck who Dante was, because no one was supposed to be involved in this relationship but the two of us. I summoned the last of my willpower and brought my knee up sharply, my free hand slamming down on his arm holding my neck. I did as Caine instructed, and used his shock to push him back to give myself space.

“I’m not that sub in your room who you can boss around anymore,” I said, moving back to my case. “This shitstorm has already found its way into my career and not once has anyone even apologised to me for destroying what it took me years to achieve.” His wealth wasn’t the same as spending the money I’d worked hard to earn.

I started grabbing items from the bedside drawer and throwing them toward my case. Jordan prowled forward like the predator he was, and I lifted the closest thing to me in the drawer and held it up to defend myself. He stopped and eyed it wearily.

“Are you seriously going to attack me with your vibrator?” he asked, his lips twitching.

No, I wasn’t. I hadn’t noticed what I lifted out. It could have been a hairbrush when my hand grasped it. Now, I refused to back down. Call it crazy or stupid, but I was determined to fight for my own destiny and place in this relationship.

“Fuck off, Jordan. I’m sick of everyone ordering me around. I’m tired of you making all the decisions about us and expecting me to just accept. And I’m beyond pissed that you can withdraw affection when you feel like it because you’re protecting your own emotions. Fuck you and all of this. I’m out!” If I had a bra on, I would have burned it in solidarity with Emmeline Pankhurst and all the Suffragettes who’d won women the vote so long ago.

He studied me as if I was a venomous snake about to attack. I felt like it today because a rattlesnake lived inside my stomach, curling itself ready to strike.

“You’re being ridiculous, Megan. You need to calm the fuck down.”

Never in history had anyone calmed down when someone said that to them. It tended to have the opposite effect, like right now.

“Ugh!” I screamed, all the pent-up emotions from the past few days exploding in a cascade of frustration. The vibrator was my first choice of weapon to hurtle at him.

He dodged it.

Then I lifted handfuls of silk and lace underwear to fling at him, until Jordan was a human Christmas tree of panties and bras. When that was empty, I threw the pillows from the bed that the asshole calmly caught and set down beside him. My heart sank when I was out of ammunition and he was standing between me and the rest of the room that I could turn into an arsenal.

I contemplated climbing over the bed, my attention moving to the island separating me from the rest of the room.

“I won’t think twice about putting you over my knee, Megan,” Jordan threatened in a low, husky voice. “I’ve spanked you before until you were squirming in need.”

He was right. I used to try and get enough friction to orgasm even though he refused to let me come until he said the magic word. “You’re not putting a single finger on me,” I said, my eyebrow arching in warning.

He leaned forward and placed his right index finger in the centre of my chest. The indignant part of me wanted to slap it away, the childish part of me desperately tried to suppress a giggle. I glared at him and his eyebrows lifted slightly.

“I don’t think you’re funny,” I said.

“Really? Because right now I’m standing here like a Victoria’s Secret model dressed in lingerie after battling a crazy vibrator and several pillow soldiers. I think I’m fucking hilarious.”

I slapped his hand away. “I’m still leaving.”

“Megan,” he growled.

“Stop!” I pointed my finger at him. “That low, growly voice is not going to work today. I am a strong, independent woman with a career and an apartment that she achieved all by herself. I do not need a man to tell me what I can and can’t do.” There, I said my speech. I straightened myself to my full height and arched an eyebrow.

Jordan took a step forward but I had nowhere to go. So I stood my ground and folded my arms across my chest to try and make myself look more threatening. All it did was make my unruly and too large breasts to protrude further over the top of my T-shirt. Jordan’s eyes snapped down for a moment or two before coming back up to watch me.

My toe tapped to demonstrate my agitation, but it didn’t stop him from advancing toward me. My treacherous stomach tightened at the look in his eyes. Once again, I wondered why I had no willpower around this man.

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