Page 109 of Brutal
“You don’t talk,” he says through clenched teeth. “Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself in tonight?”
“I didn’t mean to?—”
He raises his hand, and for a moment, I think he’s going to slap me.
He doesn’t.
“Did you not understand what I meant when I told you not to talk?” He shoves me against the wall, harder than he did the last time he was here.
I let out a gasp, but I stand my ground. “I’m not afraid of you.”
This time he grabs my shoulders and pins me flat against the wall. “You should be,” he says, “and what the fuck did I tell you about not talking?”
I say nothing.
“I should punish you,” he says. “I’ve punished other women for far less.”
The idea of punishment should scare me. And it does. Sort of. But it also lights a fire inside me. The thought of his hands coming down on me, the thought of him binding me…
Is that what he means by punishment?
I don’t know, but part of me desperately wants to find out.
Another part of me? She wants to run like hell.
But a third part of me wants to tell him to stop. To push against him, exert what little strength I have.
Sure, I know it would be futile. But that part of me wants to do it.
“God, what you do to me…” He leans close, inhales against my neck. “You’re playing with fire, Delaney.”
“Maybe I like fire,” I whisper.
He grabs one of my breasts, pulls it out of the red dress, and pinches the nipple hard. “What did I say about talking?”
“Is that my punishment?”
He twists the nipple again. “Oh no. I may be hurting you a little right now, but you’re loving every minute of it.”
I don’t bother to deny his words. He knows I’m turned on. Hell, I can already smell myself.
“You’re getting wet, aren’t you?” he says against my earlobe.
I say nothing. After all, he told me not to talk.
“Good girl,” he says. “I told you not to talk, so you didn’t answer.”
“I figured you could smell my arousal,” I say. “After all, I smell it. But whether or not I’m turned on doesn’t mean you get to control me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, baby,” he says, nipping at my earlobe and then biting it hard.
I can’t help a squeal.
“I control everything around me,” he continues. “And I’ve been controlling you since we first crossed paths.”
This time I do push back. To no avail of course. The man is the size of a tank. But no one controls me. Not for a very long time, anyway.
“Nice try,” he says, one of the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
