He thought he had me. For a moment, I let him believe it. The way his hands held me against the wall, the heat of his breath on my skin—he was so sure I’d melt under his touch. 

But he didn’t know me. Not yet.

I could feel the thrill pulsing through my veins as he pinned my wrists above my head, his eyes dark with that predatory hunger. He liked thinking he was in control, that he could make me bend to his will. I almost laughed. 

The game had only just begun, and he had no idea that I was already steps ahead.

I tested his grip, twisting my wrists just slightly, enough to feel his strength without really fighting it. He needed that reassurance, that illusion that he was the one calling the shots. Poor thing. He had no clue how badly he was going to lose.

His lips brushed against my ear, his voice dark and dripping with intent. “Careful. You might not like where this goes.”

Oh, I knew exactly where this was going, and it was going to be delicious.

I let him push me harder against the wall, let him think he was consuming me with his intensity. But inside, I was already planning my next move. His breath was hot against my neck, his hand tracing down my side. I let him get close enough to taste victory, but just as he thought he’d won, I saw my opening.

I leaned into him, whispering words I knew would fan the flames of his desire.
“I think you’re the one who needs to learn who’s really in control.” The tension in his body shifted—just a flicker of doubt, a hesitation in his grip. And that was all I needed.

He pulled back just enough for me to slip away, spinning me around so my back pressed against the wall. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as if he could hold me there forever. But he was forgetting something important: I was letting him hold me there.

He leaned in again, biting gently at my neck, his hands wandering, pushing the boundaries we hadn’t yet spoken aloud. And I let him think, just for a few more seconds, that he was in charge.

Until I wasn’t.

With a swift move, I twisted out of his grip, ducking beneath his arm before he even knew what had happened. My body brushed against his, just enough to make him feel my presence without letting him get a hold of me again. I turned my head, glancing over my shoulder with a slow, deliberate smile. It was his turn to chase now.

I moved through the crowd, feeling the electricity in the air as bodies swayed to the rhythm of the music. I could feel his eyes on me, tracking every step, every curve of my body as I slipped through the darkness. He wanted to follow, and I could sense the confusion in him—how had I gotten away so easily? 

He thought he had me cornered, but he was playing my game now.

The thrill of the chase buzzed in my veins as I let him watch me from a distance, let him think he was still the one pursuing. But he wasn’t. I was already reeling him in, pulling the strings with every flick of my hips, every sideways glance.

I disappeared into the shadows of the venue, slipping through a door that led to the back corridors. I knew he wouldn’t be far behind. I could already feel him closing in, that mix of frustration and desire burning in him, making him reckless. 

Good. Let him come.

The hallway was narrow, dimly lit, with old posters peeling from the walls and the faint hum of the music vibrating through the floor. I waited in the dark, my heartbeat steady as I heard his footsteps echo closer. He thought he was going to catch me, corner me again. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

He rounded the corner, and there I was, standing in the shadows, waiting for him. His eyes met mine, and for a split second, I saw the flicker of surprise. He hadn’t expected me to stop running.

Without a word, I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, the mix of confusion and desire thick in the air. I stopped just inches away, so close I could feel his heat, see the rise and fall of his chest. I could tell he was trying to read me, trying to figure out what had just shifted between us.

I smiled, dark and slow, tilting my head slightly as I looked up at him.
“You always like to play rough?” I asked, my voice soft, almost teasing.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. I already knew. He thought he was the predator in this little game, but now he was realizing just how deep he was in. And it was too late for him to get out.

I took his hand, slowly guiding it to my waist, watching the way his eyes darkened as his fingers curled around me. “Good,” I whispered, leaning in just enough for my lips to graze his ear. “Because I do too.”

Before he could react, I pushed him against the wall, reversing the roles completely. His back hit the brick with a satisfying thud, and I was on him in an instant, my body pressed against his, my hand slipping to his throat. The tables had turned, and he wasn’t in control anymore. I was.

I watched the shock flicker in his eyes, quickly replaced by that same burning desire I’d seen in him earlier. But now, it was tempered with something else. Something darker. Submission.

I leaned in close, my lips barely touching his, my hand tightening just slightly on his throat. “You thought you had me,” I whispered, my voice a low purr, “but the truth is, I’ve been in control from the moment you laid eyes on me.”

His breath hitched, and for the first time all night, I felt him hesitate. 
Just enough to make my point. He wasn’t the one calling the shots anymore. 
I was.