Page 94 of Twisted Little Game

14

Tate

He says the words so simply, in such a deep, matter-of-fact voice, like he knows he already has me.

“Give me your cock,” I whisper.

My heart thuds so hard in my chest I swear he can hear it.

“You don’t know what you're asking for,” he warns. “When I fuck you, I’ll feel like you’re mine.”

“You mean the truth?”

I reach over and grip his erection through his jeans and I lean over fast, kissing him so hard our teeth collide. I lie down flat on the long bench seat in the back, and Roman moves until his body is positioned above mine, one hand on either side of me, boxing me in.

The weight of him straddling me is immense.

I couldn’t shove him off of me, even if I tried. When he’s on top of me like this he controls my movement entirely, and even though the back of his Escalade is gigantic, Roman still manages to make the space look small.

He drags his hand down to pull at the bottom hem of my long-sleeve. The cotton is still damp and clinging to my body.

He tugs upwards on it in a rough movement, exposing my abs, and when I feel his skin on mine I get impatient.

I move to take off the shirt and toss it away, lying back on the buttery leather of the seat.

“Take the rest of it off,” Roman murmurs in a low voice, his gaze fixated on my chest. “All of it.”

He moves his weight off me for a moment and I kick off my shoes, one foot, then the other, then fumble underneath Roman to undo my button and zipper. I shove away all of my clothes from the waist down.

Roman paws at me, helping me get each garment off of my body and looking at every new piece of exposed skin like he’s going to devour me whole.

Droplets of rain fall from strands of his hair, hitting my skin. I’m fully naked now while he’s still completely clothed.

He slowly, patiently, begins to pull off his jacket.

“I want to feel like everything my body wants is controlled by you,” I murmur. “Like you hold my right to move. My right to speak. My right to come.”

His mouth drops open just a little, and I’ve never seen Roman look at me with so much raw need.

“You’re provoking me.”

“Is it working?”

He slowly reaches down with one large, warm hand, running his open palm from my jaw down the front of my neck. I watch the tattoos along his forearm as he moves.

He clasps his hand tighter around my throat and my hips jerk underneath him. I bring one hand lower, feeling for the outline of his cock under his pants, gripping his bulge hard. “I want this. And yes, I know it will hurt.”

His hand grips my wrist and yanks it upward, away from his dick, and he pushes it back toward the headrest on one side of the bench seat.

I see him digging into his back pocket, pulling something out.

It’s long and black, unraveling in the air above me.

Holy hell.

It’s a length of smooth black rope that I didn’t even know he was carrying.

The movement is so fluid that I don’t have time to register what’s happening before he’s already tying my wrist to the thin, exposed metal rod between the headrest and the seat. The rope pushes into my skin.