Untamed

Chapter4

His words were the cruelest thing. Whispered in her ear, they threaded through her like heat—commands, promises, threats dressed as affection. “Say my name,” he ordered once, voice rough. “Tell me you want this.” He watched her face, cataloguing every tremor of need, every flash of pride. Then he let silence answer, as if the pause itself was another tool to be used against her.

When she tried to speak and then clamped her mouth shut, he smiled and slipped his fingers beneath her jaw to tip her face up. The pressure was gentle and absolute. “You think you can hold out?” he murmured. “I can do this until dawn.”

He intensified the teasing: lips at the curve of her ear, the press of teeth along the shell of it, a knuckle dragging down the center of her back. Each motion was calibrated to push her right to the edge—close enough that her body betrayed her with little sounds, far enough that the relief never came. She hated him for it.

As the night thickened, so did his game. He drew a slow line of kisses from her throat to the hollow just above her breast, then stopped, eyes lifting to watch the effect. “You’ll beg eventually,” he said, not unkindly. “And when you do, you’ll mean it.” He held her there, taut and trembling, a portrait of want edged with the steel of his will.

“You’re still holding out,” he said softly, though there was nothing gentle in his tone. “But I can smell it on you—the want. The fight is only making it worse.”

He pressed closer, caging her between the wall and his body, the heat of him overwhelming, suffocating. She turned her head, lips parting as though to draw in air, but he followed, dragging his mouth along the curve of her jaw until her breath caught.

“You think you can win this,” he whispered, voice low and jagged. “You think your pride will save you. But pride doesn’t touch you the way I do. Pride doesn’t own you the way I will.”

His hand slid down her side again, slow enough to be cruel, stopping just shy of where she needed him most. He held her there, fingertips hovering, the tension unbearable. Then he withdrew, deliberately, leaving nothing but the hollow ache of denial.

Her whole body shuddered with the loss, a sound tearing from her throat before she could stop it. His mouth curved into a dark smile. “There,” he said, savoring her weakness. “That’s the beginning of begging.

He tilted her chin up with a firm grip, forcing her eyes to stay locked on his. “I could keep you like this for hours,” he murmured, voice silk wrapped around a blade. The only thing that will set you free is one word. My word. Beg.”

When she shook her head, defiance flickering once more, his laugh was low, dangerous. “Then we’ll keep going,” he promised. “I’ll strip you down until there’s nothing left but your need. And when you finally beg, it won’t be because you gave up—it’ll be because I tore the choice from you.”

Her sound was cut from the same cloth as his laugh—half pain, half triumph. “That’s begging,” he said, but he didn’t own the word. She ripped it back, raw. “Make me,” she breathed, and the heat in her voice was a threat and a promise both.

Her defiance landed between them like a spark, and he caught it with a low, rough laugh. “Make you?” he repeated, pressing closer, the heat of his body burning into hers. “Careful what you offer. I don’t stop once I start.”

“

“You want to play dirty?” His voice was all grit and smoke. “Then bleed for it. Take as much as you give.”

The air between them thickened, heavy with sweat and want and something darker—obsession, dangerous and absolute. They weren’t just lovers in that moment; they were rivals, conspirators, destroyers, each trying to burn hotter than the other.

And yet—underneath the violence of it—there was recognition. That what bound them wasn’t just lust, wasn’t just need. It was the knowledge that no one else could survive them but each other.

He slammed her back against the wall again, his hands gripping her wrists. But before she could even test the restraint, she surged forward, twisting hard enough to force him back a step. The laugh that tore from his throat was feral. “Good,” he rasped, eyes blazing. “Fight me for it.”

She shoved him, and he let her—for a heartbeat. Then his weight shifted and she was spun, caged in his arms once more. His palm slid down her hip, hovering where she wanted him, then retreating before she could grind against it. His grin was wicked, cruel. “You want me?” he taunted, voice low and jagged. “Then ache while I starve you of every touch.”

Her eyes narrowed, breath ragged. “I don’t beg,” she whispered, even though the tremor in her voice betrayed her body’s desperation.

He pressed in closer, chest to chest, until her lungs couldn’t fill without dragging his heat inside her. “That’s what I love about you,” he said, almost tender, but the cruelty in his smile betrayed him. “You’ll break yourself before you break your pride. And I’ll be here, watching every second of it.”

He claimed her mouth again, rough and consuming, then tore away just as she leaned into it—denying her the satisfaction, feeding her the emptiness instead. Her gasp was half fury, half need, and he drank it like a reward.

“Tell me no again,” he growled, pressing his body hard into hers, pinning her wrists above her head. “Defy me, and I’ll drag this out until you can’t breathe without thinking of me. Until the hunger chews you alive.”

Her answer came as a hissed laugh, sharp with defiance. “No.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring it, then leaned in until his lips brushed hers but didn’t close the distance. “Then suffer,” he whispered, dark and merciless. His hand slid down, grazing the very edge of her sensitive core—close enough for fire, too far for relief. And then he pulled back again, deliberately, slowly, watching the frustration ripple across her face.

“You think you can fight me?” he growled, his lips grazing the shell of her ear without granting her the kiss she craved. “You think your defiance makes you untouchable? No—your defiance makes me hungry.”

He shoved her wrists higher, pressing them into the wall until her shoulders ached. His other hand slid down again, dragging over her skin with excruciating slowness, stopping just at the edge of where she needed him most. He lingered there, the heat of his palm radiating against her, before pulling away with cruel precision.

Her cry broke from her throat, raw and involuntary, and his laugh rumbled dark and primal. “That’s it,” he snarled, teeth grazing her jaw as he pressed her harder into the wall. “You don’t even realize it—you’re feeding me every sound, every tremor. I can break you without even touching you.”

Her head turned, eyes blazing, mouth trembling between a moan and a curse. “No,” she whispered again, stubborn, shaking, clinging to pride like it was her last shield.

He snapped, slammed her into the wall so hard the picture frames rattled. His mouth crashed to her throat, biting, claiming, marking. “You’ll beg,” he growled against her skin, voice gone animal. “Not because you want to. Because your body will betray you. Because I’ll take you so close, so many times, and rip it away until you’re screaming for me to end it.”

He pulled back, eyes burning, his face a mask of hunger and cruelty. “I’ll keep you right here, trembling, ruined, denied, until begging is all that’s left of you. And when you finally break—” his teeth bared in a feral grin, “—that’s when you’ll know you’re mine.”

Her whole body shuddered under him, fury and need tangled so tight they were indistinguishable. She spat the word again, hoarse, trembling, “No,” but it came out like a plea disguised as defiance.

“You keep saying no,” he growled, teeth flashing near her ear, “but your body is a liar.” He shoved closer, the pad of his heartbeat against her — was like thunder in her chest. She tried to wrench away, mouth open to spit defiance, but he closed the air with him until all that existed was the heat between them.

He alternated cruelty and tenderness like a ritual. A hard palm across her back to pin her; a feathered touch along her jaw to knead at the wound he’d carved. He stole the small sighs she tried to swallow and turned them into proof of how close she teetered. Each withdrawal, each withheld kiss, sharpened the ache until it hummed under her skin.

. He alternated between torment and possession: fingertips grazing her skin so lightly it burned, then a bruising grip that left no question of his control. He gave her just enough to taste, then ripped it back, the denial sharper than pain.

Her cry broke loose, hoarse and helpless, and his answering laugh was guttural, animal. “That’s it,” he growled, voice thick and savage. “That sound — that’s mine. You’re mine.” His body pinned her so completely she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe without dragging him deeper into her lungs.

Her voice cracked, the last “No” spilling from her lips more like a whimper than a weapon. He caught it, devoured it, twisted it into victory. His mouth hovered at her throat, teeth grazing the pulse that thundered there. “Say it again,” he dared, his voice ragged, brutal. “Say no while you’re trembling for me.”

And she did — one final, trembling “No.” But it was thin, shattered, already melting into the plea beneath it. When her eyes met his, there was no more denial — only surrender burning in the ruins of her defiance.

The growl that ripped from his chest was primal, almost inhuman, as he crashed into her again — taking, claiming, consuming. Not gentle, not polished, but raw and feral, the way storms claim the earth they tear apart.

“You’re trying to hold onto yourself,” he growled, teeth grazing her jaw. “But I can feel every piece of control you cling to, and I’m going to take it. All of it.”

Do you feel that?” His voice was low, jagged, a growl that rattled through her chest. “You’re trembling, yet you’re still trying to fight. That’s pathetic… and delicious.”

She swallowed hard, voice shaking, “No…”

He laughed, a sound dark and animal. “No?” He pressed closer, teeth grazing her shoulder, lips brushing her jaw with the sharp heat of hunger. “You think that word means anything here? You don’t get a choice. Not anymore. Every inch, every gasp, every trembling shiver — that’s mine. And you’ll beg, eventually.”

His hand cupped her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Look at me,” he growled. “You’ve been trying to hold yourself together… and I’m stripping it away, piece by piece.”

Say it,” he commanded, voice low, dangerous. “Tell me you need me. Beg me.”

She gasped, shaking, trying to push away but pressed impossibly closer, body betraying her every word. “No… I’m—”

Louder,” he snapped, primal and feral, “say it! Say you want me and can’t have me yet. Say it!”

Her defiance faltered, just slightly, trembling at the edge of a plea, but her pride burned still. “I… want… you… but I won’t—”Every moment you push back makes me take more… and you’ll beg eventually. I’ll strip the last of your control piece by piece. You’ll be trembling, desperate, and still refusing — and I’ll love every second of it.”

You think your body belongs to you?” he growled, teeth grazing her jaw with a snap of primal ferocity. “Every inch of it is mine. Every gasp, every tremble, every shiver you try to fight — mine. And you’ll beg for it eventually.”

He pressed closer, body crushing hers against the wall,, his hands trailing over her curves with slow, deliberate cruelty. Just when she leaned into the ache, trying to find the relief she wanted, he pulled back at the last second, leaving her raw, shivering, desperate.

She clawed at his chest, shoving him, gasping, “No—I won’t—”