Your back hits the wall, and Barty’s mouth is at your neck before you can think, You're already breathless, pinned between his body and the wall, his hand fisted in your shirt like he might tear it off just to prove a point.

Barty’s mouth is at your ear, voice low, thick with heat. “Didn’t think you’d fold this fast,” he murmurs, smirking against your skin. “I barely touched you.”

His thigh slides between yours, pressing up, and your breath hitches — loud enough that it makes him chuckle.

“Poor thing,” he drawls, lips brushing your jaw. “You want it that bad?”

His hand snakes up your throat, tilting your head back so you have to look at him.

“Then beg, sweetheart.”