The Revenge by Tijan

I pulled the towel farther to my chest, but then he was there. The towel was ripped from my hands, tossed to the floor, and he was crowding me in. Hands to my hips. Eyes pinning me in place, he eased me all the way back to the shower wall. He was fully clothed. I was fully naked. But it didn’t matter.

He. Was. Pissed.

My heart sank.

“I did it to help you.”

“Who asked for your help?”

The words were clipped out, though it wasn’t really in a question form.

I gulped.

He was fighting for control, but it was slipping.

Kash had darkness inside him. I knew it. I’d always known it, and I used to salivate over feeling that side of him, especially in bed. He could make me forget weeks, all just begging for the feel of him inside of me. My body was addicted to him. I’d always been desperate for his touch. A fevered rush would come over me. I would be frenzied for him. But he’d never directed that side of him toward me outside of the bed, and as he drew up to me, pushing against my body, I wasn’t sure what was happening here.

I didn’t know if he was so mad that he was going to punish me … Well, correction, I knew that was the case.

Another shiver went up my spine this time.

I swallowed over a knot, half of it forming from fear and the other half already reacting to the proximity of his body. I was leaning into him when his hand grabbed mine. He pushed it gently against the wall behind me, his hand over my wrist, and he leaned down, all the way in my face.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

I blinked a few times. “I wanted to help you.”

“Why?” His growl was more savage this time, more primal.

I was feeling it all the way between my legs, and I was beginning to throb.

“Because…” I licked my lips.

I wanted him.

Now.

Not later.

Not in a minute.

Now.

I began rubbing against him, and he was already hard. He was really hard. “Kash,” I murmured.

He grasped my other wrist and pinned it above my head.

His head still pushed so he was breathing on me, he angled his hips back.

I mewled, wanting him back where he’d been.

“You seem to mistake the position you’re in here.”

He was cold.

My eyes snapped to his face.

A whole slew of shivers moved through me.

The rational part of me, the side that thought, was telling me to proceed with caution. He was starting to lose control, a little edge at a time. But the feeling side of me, the body part of me, was starving. It’d been twelve hours ago when he left me in bed, and my mission to help had already been made up in my mind. It’d been the only thing that held me back and let me watch him leave the room. If I hadn’t decided that, I couldn’t have let him leave. If he had gone or not, neither of us would’ve known the outcome of that fight. But it was what it was.

Some of those memories were splashing reality on him. I was sputtering in the cold, and I searched his gaze again and felt chilled to the bone.

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” I said, not thinking.

His eyes flashed.

I knew he wouldn’t. But in bed … yes. He would hurt me there, in a good way. He would punish me.

A raw snarl ripped from low in his throat, and his hips slammed against me.

“I told you not to push me.”

I was pushing.

“Bailey,” he rasped out.

He was losing his restraint.

Please.

Yes.

I was moving before I knew I was moving.

My hips were grinding against him. My legs lifted and he had to catch me or I would’ve fallen. He let go of my pinned wrists, his hands catching me under my thighs as my legs wrapped around him. My breasts were flush against his chest, and my hands raked through his hair.

Our mouths met.

We both knew where this was going.

Our tongues were battling.

He was loose. This monster in him. My monster.

He was out and he was in my arms, and I was stroking him, further inflaming him.

Kash gripped me, his mouth owning me before he dropped me to the floor. My feet hit the ground with a thud, but his hands caught my hips. He held me, not letting me drop farther. I was flipped around.

My wrists were caught, raised, and pinned above my head.

I was trying to rub against him, but there was another growl as he shoved my hips forward, holding me captive against the wall.

I heard a zipper.

His pants fell.

I felt the whoosh of them in the air.

A hand slid up the inside of my legs. He found my middle, one finger went in, and he bent me upward for him. A stroke. A thrust.

I was already panting, already dripping.

And then his hand left and he shoved inside.

Hard. Deep. Rough.

He was not gentle.

I did not want gentle.

I wanted these strokes, how hard he was going. I wanted to be punished.

I swear that I blacked out from the pleasure. It was pulsating, throbbing. It was so strong, so powerful, that I could only cry out as the first climax hurtled through me. It tore me on the inside and I hadn’t been ready for it.

Kash wasn’t done.

He kept thrusting.

He was becoming more forceful with each slide inside, until it wasn’t enough. The angle wasn’t doing it for him, and he pulled out. He lifted me in the air. I felt as if I were flying for the brief second, then he was inside me again. He pushed up and all the way.