God of Wrath (Legacy of Gods #3) by Rina Kent

I like it too much.

“Don’t.”

She freezes at my single word, her inquisitive gaze watching me again, imploring, taking every bit of me into her subconscious.

“I’m going home,” she announces with a lifted chin. She even sounds confident. I’ll give her that.

“No, you’re not.”

She does a spectacular job of breathing in and out in a regular rhythm. Cecily isn’t the type who’s prone to dramatics and she always thinks her actions and words through before unleashing them on the world.

Carefully.

Assertively.

Except for where it matters the most—her sexuality. She’s still too new to that side of her and too concerned about the outside world.

“What do you want from me, Jeremy?”

“I’ll let you know that if you come with me.”

“I’m not playing your games anymore.”

“Games? Is that what you call what happened between us? A game? I like it, though I prefer calling it a hunt. Tell me, Cecily, did you go on the club’s website again? Did you ask to be chased?”

She didn’t and even terminated her membership in the club the night after I fucked her like an animal.

A fact that surprised me, considering the ‘calling Landon’s name’ incident. I was so sure she’d throw herself into his arms now that she’s had a taste of her kink.

“So what if I did?” She lifts her chin. “I don’t see why that’s any of your business.”

“Do you mean to tell me that you had some random man chase you, strip you, tear through your cunt, and make you scream?”

Despite the night, her face glows a deep shade of red and she rubs the side of her nose once, twice, before she realizes what she’s doing and forces her hand down.

“You get so flustered by any talk that’s sexual in nature, and you want me to believe you allowed someone else to have you?”

“Whether I do that or not shouldn’t concern you.” She releases a deep breath, more resigned than frustrated. “Leave me alone, Jeremy. You already got what you wanted.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy every second of my cock plowing into your tight little cunt. You came from it, twice, and fell apart asking for more.” I step toward her and she glues herself to the side of her car. “You’re so confident and innocent, but you’re not naive, Lisichka. I know what goes on in your head, what you think about when you touch yourself beneath the sheets while hiding from the world. You dream of behind chased.” My fingers wrap around her throat and I stroke the thumping pulse point. “You dream of having your will taken and your body ravaged. You want someone to dirty you the fuck up while you scream and beg and come.”

The shiver that skates through her small frame rushes all the way to my cock. Ah, fuck. Now I need inside her like I need air.

“S-shut up.” Her lips tremble in sync with the rest of her body.

I tighten my grip on her throat. “You’ll need to stop lying to yourself or hiding your true nature. I already saw you naked, touched every part of your body, felt your muscles quivering against me, and your cunt milking my cock. I drew your blood and feasted on it. I know your tendencies and what makes you come faster, what gets you on a high, and what turns you on. So do not fucking hide.”

She shakes her head back and forth as if convincing herself of what her righteous, politically correct brain is dictating.

“I could’ve slapped any label on you, but I didn’t think you’d be such a coward.”

She stops shaking her head and glares at me, that fire igniting in the depths of her green gaze like a wildfire eating a forest.

“Let’s go.” I release her throat to grab her elbow, but she wrenches it away with a force that causes her to bang it against the car.

“I said, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You can come with me now or you can do so after I go into that pub and tell your friends how much you love being chased in the dark. How you paid a club membership for it and asked someone to come rape you.”

Her face loses all color and she balls her hands into fists on either side of her. “They won’t believe you.”

“Probably not. They think you’re a prude, after all. But it’ll create a niggling doubt and what-if questions. Ava might start putting the pieces together, such as when you always wore scarves or when you went home limping and closed yourself up in your room. They’ll form theories, and you’ll be put under increased pressure the more you deny them. With time, you’ll become disgusted with yourself for lying to your best friend. She’ll probably be revolted with you and question all the years you’ve spent together.”

“Ava is not like that,” she murmurs as if the statement is meant for herself instead of anyone else.

“You don’t know that for sure. No matter how open-minded people pretend they are, deep down, they judge you for being different. They kink-shame you, tag you with labels, and shove you into the lowest category. You’ll be nothing more than an animal who’s following their instinct. Someone who asked for it.”

“Shut up.” Her voice is barely a whisper, a trembling haunted sound that obviously scares the shit out of her.

Because she knows it to be the truth. It’s why she’s never shared this part of herself with anyone. She must’ve learned in her psychology endeavors that society doesn’t react well to those who are different.