Chapter 7---Zane
Silence.
Her pupils flare, and there’s a dangerous little tremor in her jaw.
But I need this to stop here.
Calling that was lame and totally wrong but we can't keep doing this-- whatever this is. And we definitely can't take it any further.
If it's so hard to keep my eyes and hands off her now, imagine how much worse it'd be if I touched her.
Part of me wants to walk away. The other part — the darker part — wants to see how far she’s willing to push this.
Her eyes flash — hot, wild — a split second before the sting explodes across my jaw.
The slap lands first in my ears, then in the sting across my jaw. Not much force. Just enough to surprise me. My head barely turns from the impact, but the sheer audacity of it… I feel the heat crawl down my neck.
Then the second blow comes — her fist slamming into my jaw — and it’s so soft I almost laugh. Like someone smacking me with a slice of bread.
I immediately stand up trying to intimidate her with our height difference.
But before I can speak, her fist slams into my chest. Softer than the slap but it’s fast, and she’s already shoving at my chest with another swing.
I catch her wrists in one hand, my grip firm, yanking her closer so she has to look up at me.
"Stop." I warn trying to keep calm but she ignores me and continues with her assault.
“Stop hitting me before I teach you a fucking lesson,” I growl, voice rough in the quiet night.
Her breath comes in ragged bursts, chest heaving. She writhes under my hold like a wildcat, and I can feel the heat of her skin against mine. It drives me nuts. Too much contact. Too much temptation.
The flimsy excuse of a bra doesn't hide the hardness of her nipples.
I'm not sure if it's from the cold or she's turned on but i grit my teeth, fighting the blood rushing straight to my already hard dick.
I need to stop this right now before someone wakes up and sees us.
In one motion, I flip her. Her back hits the deck with a thud, and I come down over her, caging her in with my body. My hips pin hers, my free hand braced beside her head
Her chest rises hard against mine, almost brushing skin to skin. She’s breathing fast, and I can feel the heat radiating from her — the thin scraps of clothing between us doing nothing to keep it from searing straight into me.
She squirms and moves underneath me in an attempt to get free.
And fuck.
Our new position gives room for so much friction that I'm literally going mad.
She stares up at me, eyes blazing, mouth parted. The same look she gave me the first time I saw her — fierce, unafraid, like she’s daring me to snap.
And fuck, I'm about to.
She wriggles one wrist free, shoving against me again, and the movement grinds her hips against mine. The shock of it punches straight through my restraint, heat rushing to my groin in a sharp, tight ache.
Fuck.
“I hate you,” she spits, her voice trembling but steady enough to hold the words.
“Good,” I answer, my gaze locked to hers.
Those fucking beautiful eyes that are now filled with unshed tears. Tears that I caused.
Her frown deepens even more and a single tear slips from her eye. I want nothing than to wipe it away but I can't. Because if I do, I'd kiss her and 'm a greedy man. Kissing her would not be enough for me.
She leans up the slightest bit, her breath brushing my mouth.
"You're a fucking coward. Too scared to take what is freely offered to you."
She says, venom dripping from her mouth.
I try to be unbothered by her words as I know she's just mad and hurt.
But that singular word has my blood boiling.
She has absolutely no idea who the fuck I am. If she did, she'd be shivering in fear, hiding in a corner far away from the monster that I am.
My voice sounds strangled as I whisper. "Don't make me teach you a fucking lesson, Arielle."
“You won’t.” she whispers, voice thick with tears. “Because you’re a fucking coward.”
My eyes flare.
My cock turns to steel.
It’s that fucking word. Coward. My jaw tightens. My blood pounds.
I crush my mouth against hers before I can think better of it — hard, hungry, claiming.
I suck in her bottom lip with such vengeance, she lets out a muffled whimper, but then she’s kissing me back, rough and desperate, her lips moving against mine like we’re both trying to win something neither of us can name.
Her hands shoot to my hair, tangling, yanking, dragging a groan from my chest that I hate her for hearing. My free hand slides over the curve of her plump tits, fingers splaying, squeezing.
She lets out a low moan.
She’s soft and full under my palm, her nipple stiff against my thumb even through the thin barrier of fabric.
Fuck. I'm so fucked.
Every fantasy I’ve ever had about what she’d feel like in my arms— every late-night thought — feels pathetic compared to the reality of her trembling beneath me.
Then she bites my lip. Hard. The sharp tang of blood hits my tongue.
Jesus Christ.
Before I can even react, her free hand is moving — down my stomach, slipping past the waistband of my shorts.
Her palms are warm and soft like cotton causing a shiver to run down my spine.
Realizing where she's head, my eyes snap open and I wonder when I had even closed it.
I make to grab her hand but it's too late.
She grabs my cock.
“Fuck—Arielle…” My voice is low, rough, almost a growl in her ear.
Her grip tightens.
The yacht rocks gently beneath us, the night air sliding cool over my sweat-damp skin, but everything in me feels fevered, coiled t
ight, balanced on a blade’s edge between control and something much darker.
My eyes roll to the back of my head.