Chapter 7

Roman's eyeswiden and I get a sick satisfaction from seeing the shock on his face.

I laugh a little under my breath as I reach out and brush the tip of my finger along the sharp edge of his jaw. "You think you're the only one with darkness inside you?" I lean in, and whisper, "Some of us just hide it better."

Those pale eyes narrow, and he reaches up to grab my wrist, squeezing tightly. Too tightly. But I don't flinch, because there's no way I'm giving him the satisfaction of seeing my discomfort. Not anymore.

"Stop this now, Lux, or I swear to fucking God…"

When his words trail off, I tilt my head. "Or what, Roman? You'll threaten me? You"ll take away my freedom?" I bring my face even closer to his, so our noses are nearly touching. He releases my wrist. "You've already taken everything from me, and you know what, that was a blessing in disguise, because, now, I have nothing to fucking lose." I pull back again, straightening. "It's only fair I repay the favor, don't you think?"

His jaw tightens, and I can practically see the rage working through his veins. His nostrils flare for a split second before his hand reaches up and grabs my face. Pain explodes in my jaw as he tightens his grip.

Anger pulses through me, and I slap him hard across the face. He barely flinches, like he was expecting it. The anger in his eyes intensifies, and he pushes me back until I bump up against the leather sofa.

He gazes down at me with anger, and hate, and love, and everything in between, reflecting the same emotions that are rushing through me, too.

"Call this shit off," he says slowly, anger dripping from his tone. "Lux, I'm serious. The society is bigger than both of us."

It's the throne of the patriarchy, is what it is. It's the reason people like James never have to face the consequences of what they've done. Not really. Because societies like the Burning Crown protect them.

I shove at his chest—hard—and he's not expecting it, so it actually dislodges him. But I keep shoving and pushing, lashing out at him. I swipe at him, my nails raking down that handsome-fucking-face.

He tries to contain me, but everything I've been through in the last few months comes rushing forward, and I fight like hell, attacking him with everything I have.

I manage to push him back, until he's up against the desk, unable to retreat any further. His hands are up, and after a few seconds of beating the shit out of him with everything I have, I realize he's allowing me to do it. Only then do I pull back, the breath heaving from my lungs.

I want him to fight me.

"Come on!" I shove at his chest again, putting all my weight behind it. "Fight me. Do it, you fucking asshole." I scream the last bit so loud the sound grates against my throat.

But he doesn't respond. He's just standing there, hands up, watching me. I push the hair out of my face, and struggle to catch my breath, but, fuck, I want to rip him to pieces. Just like he's done to me. I want him to hurt. I want to inflict the same pain he's inflicted on me.

For a few seconds, we just stand there like that, staring at each other, suspended in time.

Then he lunges at me, his mouth colliding with mine, our teeth gnashing. It's a violent kiss, filled with all the hate we both feel. I claw at him, trying to pull him close, trying to push him away, I don't even know. Our hands are frantic as we rip at each other's clothes.

With one hand curled around the back of my neck, he holds my head in place as his other hand dives beneath my robe, and the hem of my short dress. Pushing past my panties, his fingers find my already wet entrance.

He moans into my mouth, and I swallow it as our tongues duel. Then he dips one long finger into my channel, and I respond by biting his bottom lip.

"Fuck," he hisses, pulling back. Releasing my neck, he touches a finger to his lip, and when he pulls it away, bright red blood coats the tip. He looks at me. "You're fucking feral."

I lift a brow, and take a step back, shoving his chest at the same time, which separates us. He just stares at me, and I can see it in his eyes—he thinks he's the one in control. But guys like Roman… they need to be tamed.

They need to be trained.

And I'm about to teach him his first lesson…

Dropping his hand, he makes a move toward me, but I hold my hand up, and he stops. "On your knees," I say, unblinking.

There's a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes like he's not sure if I'm serious or not. Like this could be some kind of trick.

"Get. On. Your. Knees," I repeat.

His pale eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, and we're in a stalemate for a full thirty seconds until....he drops to his knees in front of me, just like he did in the ballroom earlier.

With his dark robe flowing around him, he looks up at me, defiant and beautiful. He looks like the devil pleading for absolution.

And maybe he is.

But the devil can't be forgiven, can he? That darkness runs through his veins, and that's not something that can be wished away. It's a part of him. It's who he is at his core.

With his jaw tight, he waits for my command. Fuck, this is fun. Handing over control has to be agonizing for him, and I'm in love with it.

I step up to him, reaching out to brush the tip of my finger along his cheek, across the scratch I inflicted the other day. It feels rough like it's healing.

But I'm not gonna lie, seeing my mark on him fills me with a deep sense of pleasure. And seeing this powerful guy, on his knees in front of me, is hot as fuck.

I grab his jaw, just like he grabbed mine a few minutes ago. "I'm sick and tired of you boys having all the fun," I say, my anger seeping through the cracks of the calm I've tried to create. "It's time someone puts you in your place."

His eyes narrow, but he's smart enough not to say anything. I shove his face and take a step back. With my eyes never leaving his, I reach under my short dress and pull my underwear down, then step out of him. Roman's eyes brighten a little, and I can tell he's curious about what I have planned.

Kicking my panties aside, I back up until I reach the tufted leather sofa. It has a flat low back, and I lean against it, pulling one heeled foot up.

"Come here," I say, tugging the hem of my dress up, exposing my pussy to him.

With a quirk of his lips, he rises to his feet and closes the space between us. He towers over me, and I glance up, up, up to his angular face. He looks somewhere between angry and curious.

"Back on your knees," I say, using my finger to illustrate him falling back to the ground.

With the promise of my pussy now, he immediately complies, falling right in front of me. He's at the perfect height this way. Sliding my foot onto his shoulder, I tip my hips forward, so he has access to my entrance.

"Lick my pussy," I say, reaching forward to thread my fingers through his thick hair.

With a growl, he doesn't even hesitate. With my free hand, I grip the back of the sofa, and with my other hand, I use his hair to anchor me. And thank God, too, because the second his tongue touches my clit, my body jerks, and liquid heat immediately floods my veins.

"Oh," I whisper, letting my head fall back.

His hands come up and cup my ass, pulling me more firmly against his face as his tongue pushes into me, while at the same time sucking my clit. It's the most intense feeling, and hot energy moves through me, electrifying every nerve in my body.

"Yes," I hiss, gripping his hair, tugging on the dark strands as his tongue continues to writhe inside me. He's buried so deep, devouring me with such enthusiasm, you'd think my pussy was the promise of his redemption.

After only a few minutes, that beautiful pressure begins to build, and I start trembling, my pussy clenching in preparation for the wave of pleasure that will soon engulf me. My grip tightens on his hair even more, and my hips tilt upward, undulating under his very talented tongue.

But right before I'm about to break, he pulls away and rises to his feet. He's breathing hard like he just ran a marathon. He's staring down at me, an intent look in his eyes like he either wants to fuck me or murder me. It's hard to tell.

"I didn't tell you to stop," I say. He does this a lot, and I'm starting to think it's a thing with him. Take me to the brink, then just abandon me right before I'm about to come. It's the ultimate dick move.

But this time, he's not pulling away to torture me. I can see he's struggling with something.

"I'm not done with that mouth," I say firmly, resisting the urge to reach down and finish myself. I'm so fucking close, it'd take two seconds max. But it's the principle, so I grip the sofa and grit my teeth.

He's standing now, looking down at me, then pacing—pulling his hand down his face. "I have to fuck you, Lux."

My eyes drift down to his crotch, and his impressive cock is straining against the zipper of his black slacks. I swallow and lick my bottom lip.

"You're not going to fuck me," I say. "You're going to come back over here and finish what you started."

He's still pacing, stopping every few seconds to glance at me. And he looks afraid. Like he's actually afraid of losing control.

"I can't," he says shaking his head. "I'm going to rip you apart, Lux. I need to be inside you."

Sucking in a strengthening breath, I keep my voice even, but firm. "If you don't get back over here, I'm going out into the hallway and grabbing the first asshole I see to finish this. Is that what you want?"

Ah, there it is.

Rage.

It flashes in his eyes, and it's as unmistakable as the thud of my heart against my ribs. He pauses and turns toward me, his nostrils flared. Jaw tense. With his robe still flowing around him, he looks powerful and dangerous.

And he is dangerous. I've seen what he's capable of. When he tells me he could rip me apart, I believe him, and I wouldn't be human if a little thread of fear wasn't slithering through me right now.

But I also know the power I hold over him. The power no one else seems to have.

With one finger, I stroke my entrance. "It's up to you," I say with a shrug, doubling down on my threat.

He stalks over to me and pulls me into his arms. I yelp as he carries me over to the empty desk, and drops me onto it. I catch myself with my palms, falling onto my elbows as he shoves the hem of my dress up, so it's scrunched around my waist. Then he lowers himself in front of me, and I feel his mouth touch me again.

"Oh, God," I whisper breathlessly, my thighs squeezing around his head.

I'm not going to lie, his thick cock would feel amazing right about now. But allowing him to fuck me would be giving him pleasure too, and I can't allow that. Not after everything he did to me.

In seconds, that pressure returns, and I'm twisting on the desk, my head digging into the polished wood. My entire body is trembling, shaking as every muscle in my body tightens.

Then he sucks on my clit, pulling it between his teeth, and I scream. A tsunami of pleasure crashes over me with so much force, that I think my heart actually stops beating for a second, and my soul comes right out of my body.

Ohmygod.

Little ripples of hot energy undulate throughout my body, curling my toes, and seizing my lungs. And he just keeps sucking, drawing every last drop of pleasure from my body.

Only when I'm completely spent, does he pull away. He straightens, and steps forward, filling the space between my thighs, his large body curving over me. The hard length of his cock is pressed against my slit, only separated by the fabric of his slacks.

His head is close, his lips hovering over mine, his warm breath brushing across my lips. "I need to fuck you, Lux. Please. I'm begging you."

Wow, Roman Rush begging. The most unlikely scenario has actually happened. I should buy a lottery ticket.

Feeling emboldened, I push up into a sitting position, which forces him to move back so our heads don't collide. I have enough space to slide off the desk and stand. I smooth out the skirt of my dress and straighten my spine. "Come with me," I command.

He lifts a dark, questioning brow, but when I turn and walk to the secret room within the study, he follows. I open the hidden door and step inside, waiting for him to do the same. Once he's inside, I shut the door, and lock it.

I walk to the center of the room, then stop and face him. He's following me, walking deeper into the room, his gaze locked on me, like a predator eyeing his next meal.

Once he's about a foot away, I hold my hand up, and he stops advancing. "Everything off," I say.

He lifts his chin like he's not sure what I mean.

"Remove your clothes," I clarify.

With an amused quirk of his lips, he removes his robe, and hood, tossing them into a puddle of fabric onto the floor—and everything else quickly follows, until he's standing naked in front of me. His body is glorious, I'll give him that. His chest is sculpted, and his eight-pack flexes with every movement. But that beautiful cock…it's jutting out, thick and expectant, ready for me.

Mmm. Yes.

Nowwe can play.