87. THE WANTING HEAT

HOLLY'S POV And then he leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Beg for it,” he murmured. “Beg, Cherry. Tell me you want it. Say, ‘Honey, I want you to fuck me. Please.’” I turned my head, glaring at him over my shoulder, hoping my eyes would be enough to wipe the smug look off his face. But instead, he smiled, relaxed, and completely in control. Those begging eyes of his were gone, replaced now with a smug, unrelenting dominance that made my blood boil. God, I wanted to peel that look off his face, wipe it clean with my nails if I had to. But the ache between my legs was too insistent, too consuming, for me to give up now. I turned my head away in defiance, refusing to meet his gaze, and shifted to move, but the sharp crack of his hand on my ass stopped me in my tracks. My breath hitched as his fingers curled tighter around my neck, holding me in place. "Too proud to beg?" he drawled, his voice low and taunting, each word dripping with satisfaction.