“He’s my ex-boyfriend,” I managed to choke out.
His breath was heavy when he added through clenched teeth, “No, he’s a dead man.” He released me, sending me crashing down to the floor.
I scrambled to my knees, grabbing at his legs. “Please don’t!”
He pulled out his gun and pressed the tip into my forehead. “Putting please before don’t isn’t going to change my mind. Pleasantries aren’t for killers, remember?”
“You don’t need to worry about him.”
“What part of ‘he saw you’ don’t you fucking understand?”
“He won’t say or do anything.” Please, not Digby. Don’t kill him.
“You’re right, because dead men don’t talk.”
He grabbed my hair, fisting it hard and pulling me back up to my feet. The pain was blinding, and it felt like he was about to tear my hair out. He leaned down, his teeth scraping against my neck before he bit down just below my ear. There was no pleasure, only pain. His whole body was tense, vibrating with a destructive energy. His other hand roughly kneaded my breast before he let go with so much force I stumbled back down to the floor.
Facing the anger of a killer wasn’t something I’d wanted to do in Paris, but I would do it to protect Digby.
He put the gun up on the table and picked up his knife. Kneeling between my legs, he grabbed onto the front of my shirt and sliced it open in one swift move.
My teeth chattered and I scooted back, only to have him draw me closer, prying my thighs open and slamming them to the floor. I wasn’t used to this side of him. It was worse than Paris.
He was out of control.
I didn’t know what was going on because it was more than just the possibility of Digby talking. The wild look in his eyes as he tore my shorts down, staring at my almost naked body with an aura of domination.
Maybe he saw me as out of control again and needed to assert his control over me. I really didn’t want another belt lashing.
The cool blade of his knife slid up my thigh and I froze, waiting to see where he was headed. The tip slipped under the edge of my panties and with a quick flip of his wrist, cut right through. He cut the other side, then pulled the scrap of clothing away from me.
Nostrils flared as he took deep breaths while he continued to run the tip of the knife around my skin.
“You are my wife in this life.”
His anger shifted, lust clouding his still turbulent eyes. I couldn’t do anything but lie there and pray that him being distracted provided enough time for Digby to leave.
The knife was tossed to the side as he opened up his jeans and pulled his cock out. No prep, just a lick to his hand to wet the tip before shoving it in. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable as he worked his way into my dry pussy.
I tried to retreat, but he gripped my neck with one hand and pinned my hips with the other.
Grunting and groaning, it only took a few strokes of his cock for my body to react and my pussy to start practically squirting all over the place. The lube served for each thrust of his hips to grind me harder into the floor.
His hand tightened around my neck as his hips slammed into me. Cold eyes stared into mine. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
My mind began to go blank from the rough fucking I was getting. I was nothing but a fuck doll. Used. Abused. Fucked out of anger and control.
Each thrust in was harder than the last as he fucked his possession into my pussy.
Was that what it was about? It was different than before. Was Six jealous?
My eyes rolled back as my walls clenched around him. I couldn’t think, could hardly breathe, but as my thighs squeezed his hips, I cracked, coming in convulsing waves.
Somehow, he sped up his assault, fucking me harder and faster. Destroying my pussy for anyone else.
His fingers clamped down around my neck as his hips jerked, and he let out a roar I’d never heard before.
The fluttering of my pussy could still be felt as I struggled for breath and my vision blurred into nothingness.
There was a constant humming and an occasional bump, but I couldn’t see anything. My eyes were glued shut as I slowly woke up.
Based on the ache in my neck and throat that was blossoming into my consciousness, I probably didn’t want to see. As my eyes fluttered open, there was another bump and the humming grew louder, but I couldn’t make out what was in front of me.
I was sagged to the side, and as my eyes opened I sat up, cracking my neck and shoulders in the process. It was then my brain aligned with my vision and I saw that we were in the car, driving down some highway.
“Whe—“ I reached up and cupped my throat. It was raw, making it hard to talk, and it hurt. “Where are we?” I managed to get out, but it was dry sounding and scratchy, lower than normal.