“You need to eat,” he says, turning the tables, his voice all business once more.
Releasing me, he reaches around my body for the cutlery and cuts me a piece of his delicious-looking breakfast, spears it with a fork and lifts it toward my lips.
“Eat,” he demands.
“I can feed myself, you know,” I snap at him.
“I’m aware. Humour me.”
“Why should I do anything you say?” I sass.
“Because you know it pleases me. Because you know I’ll give you whatever you want for it.”
“You’ll let me go?” I ask hopefully, although I can’t deny the disappointment that washes through me at the thought of walking out.
There is something very, very wrong with me.
He chuckles again, and I curse silently that I can’t see the look on his face as he does so.
“I think that’s the last thing you want to do right now, isn’t it?”
“No. I need to go and—”
“Say his name and you won’t be getting anything.”
Silence descends as tension crackles between us.
“I’ll never forgive you for what you did,” I tell him, careful not to use Ant’s name. Although I can’t deny that there is a part of me that wants to see what it would make him do. But I’ve probably seen enough of Psycho Daemon to last me a while, especially in the past fuck knows how many hours.
“Yes, you will,” he states confidently.
When he moves the fork closer once more and the muffin brushes my lips, I cave and open my mouth so he can continue to feed me.
Holy fucking shit.
I moan in pleasure as my eyes roll back in my head.
Boy can cook.
“Good?” he asks smugly.
“There’s no need for arrogance,” I mutter, more than used to seeing or hearing that from my brother and his friends rather than from him.
When he offers me more, I don’t hesitate to take it this time.
Before I know it, my plate is empty and my cheeks burn, knowing that I allowed him to feed me all of it like I’m a useless child.
“You must be hungry,” I say, looking at his still-full plate.
“Fucking starved,” he grunts, but instead of reaching for his food, he swipes it aside as he lifts me from his lap and places me on the dining table.
“D-Daemon,” I shriek as realisation hits me.
“I told you, if you’re a good girl, I’ll reward you with what you need.”
Grasping the bottom of my shirt, he pulls it apart harshly, and the buttons holding the fabric together rip off, pinging around the room.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, more turned on by that one move than I think I’ve ever been in my life.