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I cock my head to the side and eye him. “Did you hit your head when I pushed you off the boardwalk?”
Tender hurt flashes across his face. He swallows and softly clears his throat as if tucking it away. “A réalta.”
“Star? Your brothers call me that too.”
“No, they call you réalta.” I notice the additional syllable now. I try to recall when he stopped calling me réalta and started saying a réalta. I barely registered the switch.
Heaviness weighs on my chest as I remember.
If I thought I was addicted to you before, I’m fucking hooked now, a réalta.
Then I remember his words that night outside of Libidine.
When you pulled me into that bathroom? You can’t tell me that was as a fucking friend.
“Karaoke, the bathroom.” The weight expands, filling with excitement and guilt, warring reactions that can’t coexist. “You thought that was something more.”
“I thought it was something more?” I sit back at his harsh, offended tone. “It’s not a matter of opinion. It’s the goddamn truth. That was something more,” He tugs fiercely on the ties, and my pulse races from seeing the passion in his eyes. “This is something more. We are something more.”
His words create an echo in my soul. It’s thrilling and terrifying, heart wrenching and inexplicably elating.
I jump at a loud snapping sound. One of the zip ties has broken. Lochlan registers the shock on my face with lascivious glee.
“Oh, a réalta.” He sits up, a glowing hunger in his eyes. “You better run.”
He gives the remaining tie a sharp tug, and the headboard smacks the wall with the force. I leap onto all fours, my heart jumping into my throat. I scurry off the bed, my feet hitting the smooth hardwood floor the second I hear the second zip tie break.
I let out a combination of a giggle and a squeal with a hint of true trepidation. I dash to his door then hesitate in the frame, unsure where to go. The mattress creaks behind me, and adrenaline floods my bloodstream.
I glance over my shoulder, and he’s already on his feet. I take off, a small scream slipping out.
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. It seems to sync with the sound of his footsteps. I sprint through the living area and run to the other side of the couch. I turn around and he stands opposite me. He moves side to side, in ready position to bolt in either direction.
I jolt one way just to see what he does. Both of our arms out at our sides, he mirrors my move. It’s exhilarating, staring him down, wondering what he’ll do when he catches me.
I try to fake him out, but he doesn’t fall for it. “Stop fighting the inevitable. It will only make it worse for you,” he warns. Then, with a devilish curl of his lip, he adds, “Or do. I’ll add it to the list of things I already can’t wait to punish you for.”
“Punish me? For what?” I scoff. “You’re the one who turned a friendly game of poker into Russian roulette.”
His eyes darken, the silver moonlight shining into the room making them sharp like steel. I dart toward the kitchen, thinking I have at least a few seconds before he can run around the couch, but he jumps over the back of it. He snatches me around the waist, swinging me around before I can even register what is happening.
He pushes me forward. My hands land on the back of the couch, and my knees hit the cushion. His body cages me, and his breath is hot on my neck, yet chills break out down my arms. He flattens his chest against my back. His weight and strength have me helpless to escape.
“You shine only for me.” My stomach crashes like waves against a rocky cliff. “I should pin you down and breed you so you can’t forget it.” His words are like ice down my spine, chilling and electrifying. “Imagine me taking you again and again. You’ll have no choice but to take every last drop of me into that needy fucking cunt.”
“Oh my god.” I’m wracked with delicious shivers at the fantasy he’s painting.
“Yeah.” He chuckles darkly. “I knew you’d fucking like that. Sweet, sensible Stella is really just a desperate cumslut.”
I’m hardly aware of the breathy sound that comes out of me, and with it comes a high I am realizing only comes from losing control. “Yes.”
He straightens and wraps his hand under my chin. He tilts my head straight back while his thumb opens my lips. Curling over me, he spits into my mouth. I feel it hit my tongue, and heat swirls between my thighs.
“Say thank you,” he roughly orders.
I swallow and strain to look him in the eyes. “Thank you.”
He strokes my chin sweetly with his thumb then lightly brushes over my bottom lip, and I feel like I’m thanking him for so much more.
