CHAPTER 38
**ZION**
"Get the hell out of my room! If you ever come in here without permission or touch me again, I’ll cut your balls off!” she screams, her voice trembling with fury as she attempts to back away. I grab her hand, pulling her back, my other arm slipping around her waist, holding her close despite her struggles.
"What do you want, Zion?" she demanded, her eyes scanning me from head to toe with barely concealed contempt. I brushed a damp strand of hair behind her ear, giving her a lazy grin that I knew would only piss her off more. Seeing her reaction was already making my day.
"Ask me nicely, and maybe I’ll tell you, Snowflake," I teased, relishing her discomfort. Watching Winter squirm was becoming my new favorite pastime.
"Let me go," she demanded again, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. It was rare to see Winter so flustered, and I had to admit, humiliation suited her.
"Ask nicely," I repeated, savoring each word.
"Let go, Zion," she said, her voice softer but still tinged with anger.
"There you go. Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?" I said, a slow grin spreading across my face, savoring every moment of her irritation.
But my satisfaction is short-lived. She shoves me hard, catching me off guard, and runs to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
"You're a bloody moron!" she shouts from the other side, her voice echoing with frustration and anger.
I should leave her alone, but I can't.
Why?
Because I'm attracted to her.
No way... I hate her.
Glancing at the bathroom door, a primal urge surges within me, the desire to break it down overwhelming. I want to storm in, grab her by the wrist, and force her to ask my permission before ever walking away again.
The thought of her defiance makes my blood boil, every muscle in my body tensing with the need to assert control.
My jaw clenches as I imagine her wide eyes filled with fear and submission. The idea of her feeling that vulnerability in my presence sends a shiver down my spine, a twisted mix of anger and lust battling for dominance.
But instead, with an iron rod between my legs, I head to my bedroom, the frustration boiling inside me. I strip off my clothing and step into the walk-in shower.
Twisting the knob, water sprays from the showerhead, the first few seconds an icy blast that pelts my skin like hail. Even the freezing cold doesn’t alleviate the ache in my painfully hard cock. The sensation sharpens my focus, but it doesn't dim the images flashing through my mind.
The water warms gradually, steam rising and curling around me, but all I can think about is her. Without thought, my hand wraps around the beast, the heat from my body merging with the warmth of the water. I stroke slowly at first, my grip firm but measured.
Images of her naked body, trembling with need beneath mine, flood my thoughts. My strokes quicken, transforming from gentle caresses to desperate, strangling jerks. Each movement is fueled by the vision of her soft skin, her gasps, her cries. My hand moves faster, the slickness of the water making each motion smoother, more intense.
I can almost feel her under me, her warmth, her resistance melting into submission. My breath hitches, the pressure building within me. I grip the shower wall with my free hand, the cool tile grounding me as my climax approaches. The water cascades over me, washing away everything but the raw, consuming desire.
The final image of her writhing in pleasure beneath me pushes me over the edge. I groan, my release mixing with the spray of the shower, the intensity of it leaving me breathless. I stand there, panting, the water continuing to beat down on me, the lingering thoughts of her etched in my mind.
..........
I tear down the road toward Clark's house, my heart pounding as if I were sprinting rather than sitting in a car. My mind is a chaotic whirlwind, trying to make sense of what just transpired.
What the hell just happened? I went there with the intention of teaching her a lesson, to inflict pain, to tear her apart the way she shattered me.
Every action I took, every venomous word I hurled, was meticulously crafted to humiliate her. I wanted to see her eyes reflect the same torment and shame I felt, to witness her crumble beneath the weight of my cruelty. But instead, she met my gaze with that fiery, defiant anger and simply walked away. The audacity of her defiance only served to stoke the flames of my frustration. Yet, despite my intentions, all I could think about was how infuriatingly sexy she looked in that moment.
On top of everything, I find myself disgusted by the fact that I ended up coming just from thinking about her in the shower.
How twisted is that?
It’s as if my own body is betraying me, reacting to the very person I’m supposed to despise. The thought of her—her body, her vulnerability—was enough to drive me to release, turning what should have been a moment of anger and vengeance into something deeply unsettling and intimate. It’s like my own feelings are mocking me, blending desire with hatred in a way that makes everything even more complicated and disturbing.
I keep telling myself that I hate her, that it's all about revenge. But as the miles fly by, my brain keeps clashing with my heart. My mind insists that this is all about hatred, but my heart? It’s a different story. My heart is tangled in confusion and raw emotion. It’s not hate I feel; it’s something far more complex—anger mixed with a deep, unsettling confusion. I’m not sure what to make of it, but the ache in my chest tells me it’s more than just hatred.
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