My rough hands tugged at her clothes mercilessly, hating the way they blocked me from feeling her silky-smooth skin and witnessing the way her goosebumps took ownership. I needed to rid her of everything—rip her clothes off her back and fuck her like she deserved to be fucked.
The top she was wearing split with one tug, the tear of it giving me enough to rip at it just once more before it came undone down the middle. Ayda’s body melted against mine, and the low moans of appreciation and passion that rumbled in the back of her throat let me know she needed this as much as I did.
Ridding her of her top, I pressed her into the corner of the wall, using my hips to pin her in place and drive my rock hard dick against the seam of her jeans. My hands were everywhere, angry, urgent—thankful. Relieved. Above all else, relieved. I glanced down between us, taking in her tight stomach and the way it tensed and repeatedly released from her heavy breaths. My eyes traveled up to her tits, watching them as they slowly bounced in front of me, falling into a hypnotic rhythm. I saw the bruises, not knowing if they werefrom tonight or the one before, her skin was pink and red in so many places. I wanted to kiss her and slap her ass all at once. I wanted to drown her in something… everything.
“Crazy kind of something,” I panted. “The kind of crazy I need.”
Ayda’s eyes flared to life as she took me in, the dazed haze of arousal mixing with satisfaction as her hands fumbled to my bloody shirt and tugged at the stained material. She was already panting as she whispered her next words. “Stay with me.”
“Make me,” I bit back.
A subtle erotic laugh fell from her before her teeth slid over her bottom lip and bit down hard. Her hands dropped to my belt, and her fingers made quick work of the buckle. “I would punch you if I didn’t want you so much.”
“Do it,” I breathed, kicking out of my boots.
Ayda paused, her breaths heaving in and out as her hands stilled on my zipper. There was a flash behind her eyes, a darkness I’d never seen before. For a moment it looked like she was going to carry on with what she was doing, but she raised one hand and slapped it against my chest lightly, her brows furrowing with the sound of her palm against my body. The second hand came as a balled fist with a little more force behind it and forcing a stutter from her chest.
Looking up at her through hooded eyes, I challenged her with a single look before I curled my lip and leaned in closer. “That all you got, darlin’? I thought you were mad.”
“God damn you, Drew.”
“Fuck me to Hell,” I urged her, dragging a finger down from the center of her stomach, all the way down the seams of her jeans and pressing against her clit.
Both her hands came against my shoulders and pushed me away from her. A grunt of something fell from her lips as she pulled her right arm back, she met my eyes and let it rip, planting the small ball of her fist right into the center of my stomach with a scream of rage.
I braced myself just in time, accepting the blow while appreciating the force she put behind it. My chest bounced as my breathing became heavier—a mixture of admiration, shock, and the need to screw her seven different ways all at once.
Not saying anything, I unzipped my stained hoodie and dropped it to the floor, exposing my stained T-shirt for just a second before I reached up to grab the back of it and pull it over my head, and then dropped it to the floor.
I stood strong. Determined. Watching as her eyes danced all over me, and her face filled with fire and confusion.
“Go on. Show me how much I hurt you,” I whispered roughly.
Ayda rocked back on her heels, her eyes suddenly full of uncertainty as she stared at my bared chest. Hunger and want flashed behind her eyes when she took me in, but it wasn’t enough to kill the anger that was still eating at her. With her palms, she pushed against me, driving me back as she threw her weight behind the action. Moans of pain and frustration fell like little bombs as her hands fisted and she pummeled into my abs, my stomach, the punching bag she needed. Her sobs started the closer she got, her punches soon becoming sloppy. As her tears fell, she let go of any inhibition, allowing the screams of rage to come with every punch she threw.
I let her go until the point her emotions took over her actions. My stomach burned from her assault, but I welcomedit, just the way I welcomed her to me when I grabbed her by her arms, brought her body against me and claimed her mouth with mine. Her tears ran into our kiss, and her strangled cries were swallowed by my need to fix everything.
Ayda struggled for only a moment before she started to kiss me back. Her left hand grabbed for the waist of my jeans, but her right… her right drove her tiny fist into the spot just under my ribs.
“Now you can fuck me,” she whimpered.
I turned us both, holding her face and her hips to me until her legs hit the edge of the bed. I pulled away to take a breath, feeling the air hit the remnants of our kiss on my skin. I took her in, all wild eyes, burning cheeks, and that Ayda-love pouring from her face.
“Don’t stop on my account.” My eyes trailed the entire length of her exposed body one last time before I picked her up in my arms and threw her on the bed like I was a goddamn animal, my knees sinking into the mattress and stalking over her like the predator I had, once again, become. “Your punches won’t stop me fucking you now.”
She was panting as she looked up at me, but the anger was giving way to lust. She covered her face with her hands, her knuckles red and bruising. It took a moment for her to do anything, but when she moved again, it was with purpose. Her hands pushed at my pants with despair, her legs rising so her feet could drive them farther down my legs when she could no longer reach them. When she finally raised her chin, and our eyes met, she nodded... daring me.
I couldn’t help but smirk.
Kicking my jeans off completely, I lowered my lips to hers, brushing them over and over again while teasing her withmy cock. “Feisty girl,” I whispered. “Living in my fucked up world. Never backing down. Always pushing for more.”
Raising her hips from the bed, Ayda fisted my hair. “You’re the only thing I want to fight for.”
I searched her eyes, the old fuck-with-them side of me wanting to slam into her and make her feel everything I had to give. But in that search, I saw something that scared me. Something that warned me this could end badly.
“Wait right there.” I broke away and climbed off the bed, hearing her tremble of breath as I picked up the Glock she’d set down and twisted it in my hand.
It felt heavy. Good. Like it was worth something for once.