Page 94 of The Games We Play

“I’ve done nothing but try to accept it my whole life. Just accept what happened.Forgive him,” she air quotes, “that’s what everyone says I need to do to move on, but I’m so angry. I want to hit something, I want to be angry. I want to feel it. I want to hurt someone.” Her hands grip the skin of my torso, as she shamefully dips her face into my chest.

Crooking my finger, I lift her chin and her teary eyes meet mine.

“Take it out on me.”

Her brows pinch together as she begins to shake her head.

But she has no idea how serious I am.

“Take what you need. Give me your wrath. Let me feel it.” I need for her to give it to me, so I can take it away and bury it so fucking deep she’ll never feel this way again.

“Give me everything.” I slam my lips into hers and she gasps, shocked by my aggression as I try to pull the rage from her. I grip her hair, tugging it behind her, hard enough to get a reaction but still gentle enough that I don’t hurt her.

Her teeth are clenched tight as she peers through her long, waterlogged lashes, and I see it. The fury behind her eyes, the pain in her soul. “Give it to me. Don’t hold back.”

Spinning us around, she pushes me back until I’m standing next to the bed. She rips her sweater off over her head, throwing it to the ground, then tucks her thumbs into her leggings as she bends over, peeling them off her legs.

Fuck, she’s always stunning, but she’s out of this fucking world gorgeous when she’s angry.

“These need to come off.” I put my hands up in surrender as she tackles my belt, ripping it from the loops while simultaneously pulling the fly open with one hand.

She’s incredibly talented when she’s angry, too.

My jeans fall to the floor, pooling at my ankles, and I step out of them as I sit back on the bed. I have the perfect view of her body, standing over me as she reaches behind her back and unclips her bra. The dainty, lace strap tumbles down her arms and falls to the floor. My jaw slacks as her full breasts come into view, and I’m breathless.

She sets my entire body on fire.

I try to focus on anything else, thinking of the most unpleasant things, but it’s completely useless when she pulls the sides of her thong down her gorgeous, toned legs and bares herself to me.

“Fuck. You’re beautiful,” I say, breathlessly.

I go to reach for her, but she grabs my hand and wraps it behind her waist as she kneels into the mattress. I scoot backuntil my back presses up against the headboard and I’m sitting upright as her body straddles mine. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than her naked body on top of mine.

The rage behind her eyes matches the passionate roll of her hips. She’s fierce and confident, and I am so goddamn turned on I can hardly hold myself back.

Leaning forward, I wrap my lips around her taut nipple, flicking my tongue around the peak as I pinch the other. She gasps, tossing her head back, and her desperate moans are my kryptonite.

“Jesus, Mimi, you make me lose all control.” All of the blood in my body is culminating between my legs, and my cock is rock hard, jutting between us.

She licks her lips as she glances down, seeing the precum laced tip throbbing and completely wretched. She presses her hips to mine, the underside of my cock aligning with her slit, and begins to move back and forth. Her wet pussy rubs against me, my cock dripping, mixing with her arousal, and I can’t fucking get enough.

I pump my hips, matching her rhythm, and we moan in unison.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so good.” I’m not even inside her and it’s like my entire body is on fire.

She rubs her fingers through my hair, tugging my head back. I groan at the sting, but my cock pulses, liking the abuse.

“Give me your worst.” I remind her that she can do whatever she wants to me. She can completely destroy me if it gives her the peace she needs.

“Fuck,” she belts out as she clutches my hair harder and I bite back the pain.

My chest lifts as she yanks my head back, giving her easier access to press her body flush to mine. She wraps her hand around my cock, gives it a tug, then lifts her hips, placing it at her entrance before slamming down on top of me.

“Fucking Christ,” I grunt out. Her pussy is tight and dripping, and she wastes no time as she begins riding my cock.

Her rage is swirling around us, like it’s part of both of us—her story and mine. The perfect night that was tainted with pain, the years stolen from us because of the vulgar act of one man.

She’s got a tight grip on my hair at the back of my neck and the other hand is pressing into my collarbone. Like she’s holding me exactly where she wants me. Her moans are deep and guttural, and it’s taking all my willpower to hold back.

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