"You think s*x will make me forget?" Anola’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but her fingers kept working, undoing his belt with practiced ease. "I'm not some girl you can seduce with a few rough hands and a tight cock."
Atlas let his shirt fall open, his chest exposed under the dim light. He grabbed her wrist, yanking her against him. "No. But I know you like it rough. You’ve always liked being taken."
She gasped, her back arching as his other hand clamped around her throat, not hard enough to cut off air, just enough to own. "You don’t know a damn thing about me."
"Oh, I do." His voice dropped, all velvet and menace. "You used to get wet when Marius ignored you at galas. You’d come home, lock yourself in this very room, and finger yourself while he was in bed with other women. Now you beg
