Page 32 of Make Me Hunt
They’re probably heading to his place, and I can’t stop these damn nerves from making me explode into pieces.
I leave as soon as I see him out of the club and head to a delivery zone in the back of the bar. I need to calm myself somehow. But all I seem to be doing is piling up more and more anger.
I’m not even angry at him. I’m angry at myself for being angry at him. For being this weak when it comes to this man, even if I know damn well what he really is—a killer.
My whole body is trembling. I just try to convince myself it's because he’s a jerk, not because I’m a fool. But there’s an attraction between us I just can’t ignore, and my fist slams the wall, not hard enough to break the drywall, but hard enough to hurt my hand.
I want to do it again because I feel the pain redirect my anger, maybe it morphs it into something else. I’m hurt, and I don’t even know why. But just before I get to punch that wall again, someone grabs my arm and shoves me against the wall from behind. “You should’ve told me you like pain. I enjoy provoking it,” a voice whispers in my ears, and I know exactly who it belongs to—Ares.
What the hell is he doing back?
“Aren’t you supposed to take your girlfriend home?” I mutter, unable to stop the jealousy from surfacing.
And of course, he instantly picks up on it. “My girlfriend… interesting choice of words. Is that what you think she is?”
“I don’t know, maybe she’s your fuck toy…” I mutter as he presses me harder against the wall, his taut chest molding to my back as his hard cock digs into my dress.
I try to fight him to break free, but he’s much too strong for me.
“She’s not my fuck toy,” he breathes, burying his nose against my ear. He lingers there, as if he’s breathing in my scent. “You are,” he suddenly spins me around, and even before I have time to process what’s happening, his lips crash onto mine as if they’re famished to devour me.
I want to fight the kiss, especially after he humiliated me earlier.
But I know that wasn’t humiliation. It was a lesson. At least that’s how he sees things. He’s trying to control me.
What he needs to know is thatI can’tbe controlled.
I bite his lips, my hands pressing in the center of his chest, hard enough to push him away. “I’m not your fuck toy,” I snap, ready to tell him to go straight to hell.
But fire sparks in his gaze as I defy him. Something tells me he doesn’t want a toy. He wants a challenge. Because the very next moment, his mouth crashes back onto mine. “Good,” he growls, deepening the kiss and lifting me to his waist.
The man’s fucking unhinged. His madness is the most alluring thing in the world. I want to fight him. But there’s something within me that won’t let me. All I can do is fight his tongue for dominance. Each pulse drags me deeper into a madness I never thought possible.
He groans with each one of my responses, and I want to fucking punch him as much as I want him to fuck me raw. Which leaves me dangerously undecided.
But my plan is finally back on track. And what’s so wrong with me finding some pleasure as I go along with it?
fourteen
-Brynn-
I don’t even know when I got into his car, but somehow, we’re in the backseat and he’s ordering his driver to take ushome. I can barely process how I went from wanting to punch him in the face to going home with him. But nothing makes sense anymore. The world becomes a blur, and I’m intoxicated by him. His scent. His grip on my hips. The way his lips move against mine, demanding surrender. He’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever seen before. The fire in his eyes burns with the intensity of a thousand suns, and I feel scorched, burned to the ground, and oh so willing to melt under his gaze.
Without breaking the kiss, he pulls me on top of him, ignoring my protest. “He can see us,” I snap, since we’re in this SUV with no privacy window between us and the driver.
“He’ll keep his eyes on the road if he values them,” Ares whispers, his hands finding my breasts, gripping them tightly like he’ll never let go.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I mutter, making it clear this is my choice. I’m not his fucking property.
A man like him only respects what he can’t break.
“You should be,” he whispers back, and the demon in his eyes confirms it.
I push him against the backrest, and he growls, like I’m trying to tame a wild animal. My attempt to overpower him only turns him on. He catches my wrists, draws them behind my back, and pins them there, cuffed within one of his hands.
Then he pushes the top of my dress down, freeing my breasts, covering one with his hand and the other with his mouth. His tongue teases first, playing with my piercing while his eyes raise to meet mine as he sinks his teeth in, the welcomed pain draining down my body straight to my core.
Iwiggle in his grip, trying to break loose. “Why didn’t you take Blondiehome?” I press, still refusing to give in—or at least, not to be that obvious.
