Before I lose my courage, I lean back, straightening my back and arching my spine, thrusting my breasts forward.
Raising my arms, I take a hair tie and I proceed to tie my hair in a ponytail. But as I bring my hands up, twisting my hair in the air, I feel my crop top rise up.
The material slowly moves up over my breasts, and through my sheer blouse, I know JK is getting an eyeful. Enough that it gets a reaction out of him, the size of his pupils growing under my very gaze.
"Cover yourself," he snaps, confirming my suspicion.
"What?" I ask innocently, my arms still in the air. I roll my shoulders, ensuring the material of my top bunches up even further over my breasts.
"Cover. Yourself." He bites out the words, his jaw clenched as he looks at me as if he'd like nothing more than murder me on the spot.
"Why?" I feign ignorance. "I have a blouse underneath," I shrug, the motion making my tits bounce.
He notices too, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red before he forces himself to look away, turning his head to stare out the window. His fists are still clenched in his lap, and I know he's fighting for control.
"I didn't realize you were such a prude, JK," I chuckle. "Is this what it takes to defeat you? A little side boob?" I bring my hand to my mouth as I give a low laugh.
One moment I'm laughing, the next I'm flush against his chest, his hand wrapped around my throat as he looks me dead in the eye.
There's no amusement in his gaze. Nothing but chilling coldness, and for a moment I fear I may have misjudged him.
His hold is tight enough to hold me in place, but not enough to hinder my breathing.
"What…" the words tumble out of my mouth as a twisted grin appears on his face.
"So that's what you've been up to," he says, his mouth curling up in derision. "This cheap trick might work on other men, but you chose the wrong target."
"I don't think so," I reply confidently, willing myself not to panic, even though I find myself caught in his web. "I think I chose the perfect target," I drawl, shifting around so I'm sitting closer to his lap.
His hand tightens over my neck instinctively, his expression almost pained.
"A little thirsty, Y/n, aren't you?" he mocks. "Let me guess," he pauses, chuckling as he sets his cold eyes on me. "No one will fuck the crazy in you?"
My lips draw into a thin line, the jibe hitting the mark. I may be impervious to a lot of things, but being called crazy on a regular basis has a way of screwing with someone.
"I'm not crazy," I whisper.
"Still a little liar," he retorts, bringing me closer until his face is inches away from mine. "You might flaunt your body, and you might throw yourself at me," he pauses, his breath on my lips a tantalizing caress. "But you're the last woman I'd ever fuck," he resolutely states.
My heart drums in my chest, my pulse through the roof as I can only stare into his crystal clear eyes—a shade so painfully beautiful it's making my insides clench with longing. And as much as I'd like to remain unmoved in the face of his insults, I can't.
"Now who's the liar?" I fire back, trying to mask the hurt—anything to hide the way his words affect me. Going on the offensive might be the only way to keep myself in check. "You want me," I say, dropping my voice a notch and doing my best at sounding seductive—though I'm clueless at best at what I'm doing. "You want me and you hate yourself for wanting me."
"I don't," he grits out, his jaw clenched. His fingers, too, tighten over my skin, and a gasp escapes my lips at the sudden pressure.
"You do," I counter, a need to taunt him growing inside of me. "Why don't you give in?" I ask softly, bringing my hand to his face and cupping his cheek. He jerks at my touch, but he doesn't move away, his steely eyes still on me. "Who knows, I might please you better than Aurora," I whisper as I lean forward, our lips mere inches away from each other.
I don't know where this is all coming from. I'm being more forward than I've been in my entire life.
He holds himself still, but as he hears Aurora 's name, his entire body becomes stiff, a terrifying frostiness entering his eyes.
"Do not," he starts, so much aggression emanating from that deep voice of his that I find it hard not to tremble in his grasp, "say her name. You're not fit to utter her name."
With that, he thrusts me away from him, flinging me backwards. My back hits the seat, a sliver of pain flaring at the brusque movement.
It should be enough to make me stop. It should be enough to make me realize that I'm way over my head, dealing with a dangerous man on the verge of snapping.
But there's something inside of me—something I don't quite understand and I don't want to understand. Because it's irrational just like the way he makes me feel.
Hate. Resentment. Abhorrence.
Arousal.
He despises me. That much is clear. And I should return the feeling—if only for the way he's treated me until now.
But why can't I? Why does the mere thought of him and Aurora cause me so much pain, making me act so unlike myself?
My usual self-preservation is long gone as I proceed to bait him, throwing all rational thinking out the window.
There's a twitch in his cheek as he still looks at me with murder in his eyes.
But his animosity only serves to spur me further. I lean back, slowly parting my legs. My skirt is bunched up around my ass and I know that any slight movement gives him a peek at my underwear.
He's doing his best to look me in the eye, but I can feel the tension radiating off him.
We spend long, drawn-out moments in a battle of wills.
Me, slowly spreading my legs even more. Him, trying his best to resist looking.
The tension is thick, and I can hear his breathing—harsh and barely controlled. His muscles are tightly coiled as if he's only just keeping himself from jumping on me—to kill me or fuck me, I don't know.
"You're playing with fire, Y/n," he grits his teeth as he addresses me.
"Am I?" I tilt my head to the side. My hands on my knees, I slowly trail my fingers up my inner thighs.
He's forcing himself to keep his eyes on my face, but the moment my hands near the junction of my thighs, he loses that battle with himself. His gaze snaps to my underwear, and I know I have him where I want him.
He swallows, unable to wrench his eyes from that particular spot. And to tease him even further, I lean back, arching my spine and bringing my pelvis closer to the edge of the seat.
There's a dangerous glint to his eyes as his pupils contract, his stare so intense I feel it in my core.
But just like he's currently captivated by my spread thighs, I'm not indifferent, either. Oh, I'm anything but indifferent as I feel a gush of wetness pour out of me, my folds slick with uncomfortable arousal.
"I am playing with fire. Hot, liquid fire," I rasp, my voice husky.
My lids flutter closed as I shift in my seat, seeking to alleviate the growing discomfort in my lower belly.
One moment I feel the slight friction of the leather seat against my aching core, the next I'm on my back, with JK between my open legs, his knee close to that area that begs for relief.
A thunderous expression on his face, he wraps both hands around my neck, squeezing tight.
"I should kill you," he grits out. "I should fucking kill you." I blink, trying to dispel the arousal clouding my mind.
"You should," I answer readily, bringing my hands up and covering his, urging him to tighten his grip. "So why don't you?"
He breathes harshly, his nostrils flaring in evident anger.
Yet that's not the only evident thing as my eyes dip to his pants. He'd worn a pair of dress pants, the hardness molding to the material unmistakable.
He doesn't reply, a wild look on his face as he takes me in, studying every inch of my skin.
"Are you so hungry for cock you'd open your legs for anyone?" he sneers at me, his face twisted in a malicious scowl. "Even someone who despises you?"
Of course he'd think the worst of me. It's not like I would have expected any less of him—and in a way he is right. The person I'd been at the hacienda had been my worst version. Sometimes I'm not even sure if that had been me. I'd felt like a spectator in my own body watching as events unfolded before me.
But I can't let that rattle me.
"Hmm," I drawl seductively, lifting my arms and trailing my hands down his torso. Stone hard muscle meets my touch and I'm reminded how beautifully built he is and the fact that he could kill me if he wanted. He could snap me in two. "I hear hate sex is the best," I continue, knowing I'm getting to him.
As my hands hover over the band of his pants, I stop, my eyes on his as I watch the swift play of emotions flashing over his face.
He's so tense, and growing tenser still. I can tell he's holding himself back, and for once I'd like him to unleash everything he has on me.
Wreck me.
"You hear?" His voice sends a shiver down my back. "I'm surprised it's not from experience. After all, someone with your track record…" his mouth pulls up in a devious smile. "I guess you prefer to be paid for it," he jibes.
"What are you talking about?" I frown.
"I've heard about your other hobby—prostitution was it?" He smirks. "Is that another kink of yours? Being paid for sex?"
My eyes flash at him in surprise. I guess Enzo had gone all out in telling him everything about me.
"So what if it is? You're one to talk?" I raise an eyebrow at him, trying to look unbothered. I know there's no point in explaining it had all been a misunderstanding. That I'd simply gone to a club and had started chatting up some girls in the bathroom when the cops had raided the place. But he would never believe that. After all, only lies can come out of my mouth.
"Me?" He scoffs.
"Seeing how you always go for my throat, I'd say you're the kinky one," I taunt. "What is it, does that make you feel in control? Does it make you feel strong and manly?" I quip.
His eyes widen, and something akin to regret crosses his features. But before I can identify the emotion, it's gone, the cold mask back in place.
"Oh it does," his mouth curls up in a cruel smile as he leans down, his face close to mine. There's no trace of warmth in his features—only hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred.
And though I'd grown used to being the object of his animosity, somehow seeing it so blatantly—so up close—makes something inside of me break.
"Because like this," he starts, his breath caressing my cheek, "I can control whether you live or die…" he trails off, one hand moving up my neck as he cups my jaw and pins it in place. "I could fuck you too," he smirks. "But that would be giving you what you want. You think I didn't realize your game?" He laughs derisively.
I twist in his hold, suddenly uncomfortable at being bared before him like this.
"I see you've taken your seduction assignment seriously. Too bad you don't do it for me, Y/n," he grits out.
"I don't do it for you?" I give a dry laugh. "Keep telling yourself that, golden boy. One day you might believe it," I wink at him, bringing one hand over the bulge in his pants.
He freezes, his expression murderous.
"You're the last woman I'd ever fuck," he states angrily.
"Sure, you've already said that before," I laugh. "Is that for my benefit or yours? Because from where I'm sitting it doesn't look like that," I bat my lashes at him as I cup him through his pants.
His eyes widen in surprise. Mine would too if I didn't force myself to stay in character. I've never in my life been this forward, but I guess he does bring the worst in me.
"Impressive," I start on a confident note, but it only ends on a wheeze as I feel his hand tightening over my neck, my breathing limited. With his other hand, he quickly grabs my arms, pinning them above my head so I can't touch him. The situation is achingly familiar, and I blink rapidly to dissipate the fog that's seeking to lay siege over my mind.
"You're really testing my patience, Y/n," he grunts, his features tense. A bump in the road and our position shifts as he's propelled forward.
He's still holding on to me, but his pelvis is now in alignment with mine and…
We both stare at each other in shock, a low gasp escaping my lips as I feel his hardness right against my core.
His lips part in disbelief and he looks at me as if he's never seen me before. The pressure against my clit is too much, and I can't help it as I rock my hips against him, seeking some relief.
He doesn't pull away. Not immediately. He doesn't move as he continues to look at me through hooded eyes, the desire unmistakable beneath all that disdain.
But as the car pulls to a stop, he's off me, hissing at me to put myself together before he gets out of the car, disappearing from sight.