Page 34 of Sticks & Serpents

I couldn’t help but chuckle darkly; she still thought she had power here. In this game we were playing, there were no rules except those I set.

“Are you sure about that?” I replied, leaning back just enough to gauge her reaction. Her fire ignited again; it was intoxicating—fueled by fear and desire all at once.

In that charged silence where nothing else mattered but us and our histories entwined together like vines around an old tree, I held my ground while waiting for Holly to make her next move.

She pushed against my chest, but I caught her wrists, holding them firmly yet gently against the wall. The contact sent a rush of adrenaline through me. I could feel her struggle beneath my grip, and it stirred something primal within me.

Holly gasped, surprise flashing in her eyes, but I sensed the truth hidden in that moment—she wasn’t fighting me as fiercely as she could. It was a flicker of vulnerability beneath her defiance, and it ignited a smirk on my face.

“See? You still like it rough,” I teased, leaning closer so she could feel the heat radiating off me.

So I could press into her and remind her what that felt like.

Her cheeks flushed, betraying her anger and arousal all at once. I relished that mix of emotions; it made the chase so much more exciting. She inhaled sharply, her breath quickening as our eyes locked.

“You don’t control me anymore,” she shot back, voice steady despite the fire dancing in her gaze.

I tilted my head slightly, pretending to ponder her words as if they held weight. “You sure about that?”

And just like that, I released her wrists, stepping back as if nothing had happened. The distance between us felt electric; it was as if I’d dropped a live wire on the floor and watched it hum with potential.

Her breath hitched when she realized what I’d done—how easily I had shifted from predator to something softer in an instant. She looked shaken now, the flush in her cheeks deepening as she wrestled with confusion and desire swirling together.

The power shift lay heavy in the air between us, and I reveled in watching Holly’s mind race while mine remained steady. She was caught between wanting to fight back and facing whatever reality we found ourselves tangled in once more. It was intoxicating to see how much control still rested in my hands.

I felt her hesitation, the way she tensed as if preparing to bolt. I couldn’t let that happen. I grabbed her hand—gently this time, not wanting to scare her away but desperate enough to keep her close.

“Damien… don’t,” she said, her voice shaky, a plea that sliced through the tension between us.

But I was already leaning in, drawn by an invisible thread that pulled me toward her.

I moved slowly, deliberately, giving her every chance to stop me. I wanted to see if she’d pull away or push me back; wanted to know if she still held that fire deep inside.

She didn’t move.

When our lips met, it wasn’t soft or sweet; it was raw and desperate—filled with the pent-up frustration of everything we hadn’t said. It felt like tearing open an old wound just to feel it bleed again, both painful and exhilarating all at once.

Her fingers gripped my shirt tightly, fisting the fabric as if trying to pull me closer while simultaneously wanting to push me away. I sensed the conflict swirling in her mind—the battle between desire and self-preservation—and it drove me wild.

With a surge of need coursing through me, I pushed her back against the wall harder this time. The impact echoed in around us, but it didn’t matter; all that mattered was this moment and how alive she made me feel.

Her breath quickened against my mouth. But beneath it all lingered something else—a spark that had never truly faded away. I tasted the fire in our kiss as it ignited everything we had buried: past hurts, regrets, and the raw hunger for what we once shared.

I wanted more than just a taste; I craved every part of her—the chaos she brought into my life and the way we clashed so beautifully together. This moment wasn’t just about reclaiming what was mine; it was about making her remember who we were together, even amidst the destruction we had left behind.

And as our lips moved against each other with urgency and need, I knew there was no going back now.

My hand knotted in her hair, tugging just enough to remind her who I was. Our mouths clashed together, a furious dance of tongues that ignited every nerve ending within me. I felt the heat radiating off her skin, the way she responded to me—every gasp and moan against my lips was music, a symphony of defiance and desire.

Her fingers gripped my shirt tightly, pulling me closer as if trying to anchor herself amidst the storm I had unleashed. But just as quickly as it began, she tore herself away, breaking the connection between us with a fierce determination that only heightened the fire coursing through my veins.

Her eyes were wild—pissed, turned on, and tinged with fear. It thrilled me to see that confusion flickering beneath her anger.

“This is a mistake,” she said breathlessly, voice shaky but resolute.

I wiped my lip with a smirk dancing on my face. “You didn’t stop me,” I replied, savoring the taste of victory lingering in the air between us.

Before I could say anything else, she turned and stormed off. Each step echoed through the empty area of campus like a drumbeat of rebellion. I watched her walk away, taking in the way her body moved—powerful yet uncertain—as if she were still processing what had just happened.

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