But deep down, I know better.
He leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear, and I clench my fists, fighting every instinct to shove him away—or pull him closer.
“What’s wrong, Kai? You seem upset,” he murmurs, his tone just condescending enough to piss me off. “Is there a problem?”
The way he says my name sends heat rippling down my spine, and I hate how easily he gets under my skin.
“Yeah,” I manage, my voice low and strained. “You.”
His grin sharpens, like he’s waiting for me to break. To lose the upper hand I’m barely clinging to. I can’t let him have it. Not again.
He knew what he was doing last night—having Sophie kiss me, pushing his cum into my mouth. The notion of him doing whatever the fuck he wants sends me over the edge.
Before I can stop myself, I grab him by the throat. My fingers tighten just enough to make his jaw clench. His pulse beats steady against my palm, mocking me with how calm he is, even now.
“You’re enjoying this a little too much,” I growl. “You’ve always enjoyed taunting me, haven’t you?”
Julian doesn’t flinch. If anything, he leans into my grip, his smirk softening into something more dangerous. “And what are you going to do about it?”
For a moment, I think he might give in. His gaze holds mine, daring me to push further. My hand is still firm on his throat, and the air between us feels like it’s humming with electric energy.
But then he grabs my wrist and yanks it away as if it’s nothing. In one swift motion, he spins me around and pins my chest against the cold metal lockers.
The breath whooshes out of me, and I tense, trying to twist free. His hand presses firm between my shoulder blades, holding me in place.
“See?” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You like being put in your place.”
His words slither down my spine like molten iron, and I grit my teeth to resist the way my body reacts. My muscles coil like I’m ready to throw him off me, but the weight of his hand pressing me into the cold metal… God, it feels grounding.
The humiliation of it should make me snap. I’m not the type to be held down. I dominate every room I walk into, whether in the pulpit or the bedroom.
But right now, I don’t feel like a pastor, or a Dom, or even the version of myself I thought I knew.
Right now, I feel like someone teetering on the edge of something that terrifies me.
A shudder runs through me, equal parts frustration and something darker, something I don’t want to name. I hate that he’s right. I hate that he knows me well enough to see through the facade.
“How does it feel to be used?” he whispers, his voice low and lethal. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
My stomach drops. The words hit harder than they should, causing my chest to ache with an unfamiliar pain.
Is that how he sees me?
Just another body to fuck and discard when they’ve had their fun?
My grip on the metal tightens. I could push him off me—end this right now.
But the sick part is, I don’t want him to let go.
Because if I’m just being used, why does it feel so fucking personal?
Why do I enjoy it so much?
My throat tightens, my mind flashing back to that night in our dorm room—the heat of his mouth on mine, the way I’d pulled him in only to shove him away like it meant nothing.
I told myself it didn’t matter back then.
But now, with his weight pinning me to the lockers and his voice in my ear, I wonder if it ever stopped mattering.
