Page 67 of Better Run
“She’s a human being.”
That doesn’t seem to affect him.
“Whatever she’s done in the past…” I grow increasingly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry about what happened.”
I can feel his gaze on me, but I don’t look at him. I can’t.
“Are you now?”
“Yes. And I’m sorry I kissed Sage. I didn’t know. She didn’t know!” Emotions flush through my cheeks.
“I’m not sorry. I wouldn’t have gotten you.”
Slowly I look at him. He looks possessive. I feel my anger rise. “Letting her die won’t solve anything now.”
He blinks at me. Then he says, very slowly. “Sage killed my mother, Jo.”
The world seems to slow. I stare at him, trying to read him. For once, he doesn’t shutter his gaze. I see pain. Deep sadness that can’t be faked. It floods his black eyes until there’s nothing left. And then, in an instant, he hardens them again. He grabs my wrist. “So no, kitten. It won’t solve anything now. But I don’t care.”
He pulls me to him and jerks so I fall on top of him. Too quick for me to fight, he flips me over so he’s lying on top of me.
“Jayden…”
He locks eyes with me, his voice stern. “What do you call me?”
I freeze. His dark eyes pierce mine, seeming to see all the way into me. I try to get away, but he has me pinned.
“I don’t…”
“Sir,” he reminds.
The pressure of his body sends sparks of pleasure down to my cunt. Despite everything, I feel myself getting wet. “Sir.”
“Good girl.” He puts his nose to the top of my breasts and breathes in. I feel my nipples pebble.
He notices. He gives me a look, and his eyes glitter. “You must need to come so bad. I’ve been waiting all day for you to come crawling to me.”
I glare at him. “You’re the one that threw me on the bed like a caveman.”
He grins, slowly licking his bottom lip. I feel him settle between my hips.
“Do you want this dick?” He shifts again, and the movement causes pleasure to zip up my clit. I swallow. I do want it.
He can tell. He fists my hair and yanks just hard enough to hurt. He growls, “Beg.”
I groan. I don’t want to lose. I’ve been fighting him on this for weeks.
“Fucking beg.” His voice doesn’t sound nice. There’s a warning in it. “I already own your soul. Stop fighting me.”
“Never,” I whisper.
He yanks on my hair again, sending pain shooting down my skull. It only turns me on more.
“If I have to fight you for the rest of our lives, I’ll do it.” His mouth is close to my ear, and his breath is hot. “I love it when you fight me, kitten. Your hatred gives me life. So, if you want to come, you’ll beg for it.”
I dig my fingers into his skin. He doesn’t even flinch away. I keep scratching into him, and he bites at my neck, my shoulders, and my tits as I scratch and scratch. I’m writing a word with my marks.
He rips my clothes off. “That’s fine,” he growls. “If you don’t want to come, I still will.”
