Dread swirls inside me. Something’s happening to him, but I don’t understand what. I lock my iPad and toss it onto the covers. Then, desperate in my desire to distract him from the emotions clearly overwhelming him, I say, “One of my professors recommended me for an internship.”
That stops his spiraling. He looks up at me and says, “Where?”
“A game studio in Palo Alto. It’s remote and unpaid. It’s more of a learning experience than anything.”
He smiles. “That’s amazing.”
I clear my throat. “I turned it down.”
“Why?”
With a shrug, I avert my gaze. “Because of my classes. Work. Freelancing… You.”
“You’re not actually putting me on that list.”
“Why not?”
He crosses his arms, making his pecs and biceps flex. “Because that’s fucking bullshit.”
“I have a lot going on right now. They offer internships every year, so I’ll have another opportunity. They understood why I said no.”
“That’s not the point.” His reply is clipped.
“What’s wrong with passing on an internship when I’m already struggling to find time for everything?” I duck, catchinghis gaze, but he looks away. “I need to work so I can visit my dad in Italy, and the internship doesn’t pay.”
He roughs a hand over his face. “I get that, but you’ve gotta look past your trip to Italy. Think about your future. Don’t make the same mistake I did. I never made plans beyond playing football, and I really regret not thinking ahead.”
I see where he’s coming from, but I won’t change my mind.
I cup the back of his neck and pull his face to mine. “Everything’s fine,” I whisper, our lips an inch apart. “Let’s agree to disagree for tonight, okay? I want to make you feel good.”
Without waiting for a response, I smash my mouth to his.
Like a switch has been flipped inside him, he wraps my hair around his fist and yanks, exposing my throat. “You think you get to set the pace?” he whispers against my neck.
I gasp, digging my nails into the muscles of his shoulders. “I can.”
He rears back, lips curling in amusement. “You can?”
Before I know what’s happening, he flips me onto my stomach and drags me to the edge of his bed. He pulls down my sweatpants, leaving me in just my pink panties and his shirt.
He smacks my ass, and I gasp, my body heating. “You’re mine tonight, Little Mayhem,” he coos, bracing himself over me, his arms caging me in. “Ass up,” he orders, leaning away.
The loss of his heat is visceral, leaving me trembling in anticipation of what’s to come.
Despite my comment about being in control, I’m ready to do whatever he tells me. Because that’s all I want: him and his undivided attention.
Behind me, he moves close again, tearing open a condom wrapper. “What did I tell you? Ass up.”
I immediately obey, and he slaps one cheek, the contact sharp and brutal. I cry out, burying my face in the covers, but I don’t move.
“Good girl,” he praises, grinding his cock against me, “staying exactly where I put her.”
I arch my back, desperate for more of him.
“No, baby, you don’t get to rush this. You take what I give you when I give it to you.” He slides his dick down to my pussy, brushing back and forth over my clit, but he doesn’t breach my entrance.
“Please,” I whisper, pushing my hips back.
