Page 19 of Beautifully Deranged

I slam her back onto the bed, my weight pressing down on her, and she stares up at me, wide-eyed and breathless. The game’s over. I’m in charge now. “You wanted me?” I growl. “You’ve obsessed over me. Thought you could control me, huh? That I’d fall for your tricks.” My hands move to her tits, kneading them. “Now look at you. You got me, but you don’t get to have me the way you imagined. You wanted me to bend to you… but it’s not your turn anymore.”

Her eyes flash with defiance, but I can see the excitement in them too. She wants me to break her in ways she’s not ready for. I thrust into her with enough force to make her scream. “You wanted control? Thought you could be the one in charge? You’re so fucking wrong.” My hands wrap around her throat like a necklace.

“Yes, Mikhail,” she gasps. “Fuck me harder. I want it. I want you.” Her legs tighten around me. She’s addicted to this. Addicted to me.

“Is this what you wanted?” I hiss, my teeth grazing her ear. “You’ve spent all this time planning this, and now? Now, you’ll see that this isn’t a game you get to win.”

“I want you, Mikhail. I want all of you. The sweet, the scary, the rough… I want everything.”

I take her harder, faster, the bed creaking under us. Her body arches beneath me, and I follow her, pushing her over the edge. When it’s over, I don’t let go. I hold her close, my chest heaving as we lie there, tangled together.

I’m just as consumed as she is, just as fucking unhinged, but I’ve spent so long fighting it. Fighting her. There’s something inside me that’s keeping me from dragging her into my world.

The bratva, the life I’m tied to… It’s not a place for her. The blood, the danger, the darkness. But now? I don’t know. She’s not just a temptation anymore. She’s a fire that’s burned through every damn thing I thought I could control.

Is this enough reason to pull her into my hell? Is this enough for me to throw my inhibitions out the window?

?Chapter Ten?

Lola

I hum to myself, dancing on my toes as I prepare breakfast inhiskitchen, wearinghisshirt. The fabric smells like him—smoke, cedar, and something darker underneath.

I won.

Not only did he not tell me no once, but when he finally snapped? Oh, he took me apart, obsessed over me just like I obsessed over him, and God, it was glorious. I'm on cloud nine, floating, untouchable. That is, until a certain grumpy man storms into the kitchen. He scrubs a hand over his face.

"Jesus. I thought people who commit crimes usually flee before sunrise," he mutters, heading straight for the coffee machine.

I arch a brow, flipping the eggs. "Crime? That's a strong word."

"What else would you call it?"

I roll my eyes. "I don't know, Mikhail. From where I was sitting—" I pause, tapping the spatula against the edge of the pan. "Or should I say kneeling... you didn’t say no once."

"Seems like I need a male victim support group after this, sweetheart."

I scoff, plating the eggs. "Don’t leave out the part where you broke through the ties and fucked me like a goddamn animal."

"Tch." He sinks into the chair at the counter. "You seem awfully pleased with yourself this morning."

"And why wouldn’t I be? I had a great night. You had a great night. For once, you let yourself enjoy something instead of brooding about it like it’s some great sin."

He huffs, stabbing his eggs with a little too much force. "I'm starting to think you're a demon."

"A demon who makes you breakfast, though."

He grumbles something under his breath. "What was that?" I tease, kicking him lightly under the table.

He sighs, long and suffering. "...Thank you."

"See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

"You really like testing me, don’t you?"

"More than anything."

He looks at me like he's debating flipping the entire table over. Instead, he stuffs his mouth with toast. "You're going to regret this, Lola."

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