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He follows me through the maze of boarded up art pieces. “Whatever this was is over now,” I tell him, not believing a single word myself.
“Are you sure about that, kitten, when half of the paintings you sold tonight were of my view?” he purrs. “I even bought one—” I cut him off.
“You didn’t ask me to stay, so why are you back now?” I demand, getting angry at the mafia guy, and ignoring the voice in my head saying, he must have been the anonymous bidder.
“Because I finally figured out, you are mine. No one will have you, only me,” he growls out, his hand landing on my throat, holding me captive against one of the boxes.
“Fuck you,” I snarl, struggling against him, fighting even though the man has twenty pounds on me.
“Do you know how many times I jerked off to the memory of you? Luckily, I had the surveillance videos to go back to.”
I grab his hands and struggle with him to let me go, they land on my waist and the corner of his mouth hikes up. “You had videos of us?”
He nods and licks his lips, holding his head a little to the side, devouring me with his dead glare. “You have no idea how many times I watched them, over and over.”
I try to slap him, but he easily links our fingers together, pushing my arms above my head. “Easy, kitten, tell me, did you miss me?”
“No,” I bite out, but as his lips ghost over mine, I lose all track of thought. I’m so turned on already, if he would lift my dress and pull my panties aside, I know he would find me wet and ready for him. And I hate it. I hate that I missed him. I hate that after the month was over, he cast me aside like I was nothing. Like I meant nothing to him, like we both faked what we shared together.
“Go back to your golden cage on the hill, Summer, and leave me alone,” I tell him, turning to walk away, but he grabs me by the back of the neck and pulls me against him. I crash into his body, and my palms land on his chest. I can feel his heartbeat thrumming against my outstretched hand while he stares me down.
“You can fake it all you want, baby, but admit it, you missed me,” he says, sounding smug as hell.
“Maybe your cock, never you,” slips from my lips, and I want to dig a hole and disappear into it. I admitted I missed his dick.
His lips land against my ear as he whispers, “Only my dick, kitten?” He pushes me against one of the boxed paintings. My back slams against the cold surface and I shiver by the way he’s got his eyes fixed on me. “I think you’re lying.”
“I’m not, I…” I begin, but as his lips brush over my neck, I lose all ability to speak.
“You came to the party looking like this, why?” He snarls, his eyes roaming over my black dress and leather jacket. “You better be dressing like this for me and nobody else.” There is a threat in his deep, hoarse voice.
“You are a misogynistic asshole, Sum,” I tell him, his nickname making him smile. But the way he does it is both scary and a turn on at the same time.
“Maybe I am, but tell me this, I bet if I reached between those thick thighs of yours, you’d already be wet for me,” he grunts, his lopsided half grin making me weak in the knees.
“Bastard,” I spit out, arching my back when he runs his hand between my breasts, from my neck down to my hips.
“Let’s see, shall we?” he taunts, his hoarse voice telling me I’m not the only one that’s affected by whatever this is. He spins me around and pins me against the concrete wall. The automatic lights go out and the place is cast in semi-darkness, the only light coming from a lamp in the corner of the room.
I push back against his hard chest, trying to get him off me, but the way he’s holding my hands captive above my head like it’s nothing makes me so angry. It makes me see red with rage. I didn’t start with my taekwondo lessons to have the bastard take what he wants from me. I hear him opening his belt and pulling his zipper down.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand, trying to kick the son of a bitch. He dodges my blow, and I swear in Korean as he wraps my legs around his waist. I can feel his heat through his slacks, and when his bulge makes contact with my drenched panties, I moan.
“Pretending you didn’t know shit about my language when you understand perfectly well, don’t you, kitten?” he asks in Korean. “Have I ever told you I love I can still see a little Korean in you? You’re beautiful, baby, and all mine.”
I swear, calling him all the names in the book, while I pretend I’m not grinding myself against his length, wanting to feel him deep inside me.
“You know, you calling me names turns me the fuck on,” he whispers in my ear, his breath hot against my flushed skin. “You can slap me again if you want to, and I might just fuck you harder if you do.”
I shiver and my head falls back when his lips land on my throat. “Such a great ass, kitten,” he purrs, running his hand over my butt and hoisting my dress up in the process.
I close my eyes, ignoring the way my clit twitches and pulses having him this close, and my panties flush with wetness.
“What the fuck is this?” he hisses, running his calloused fingers over my black suspenders and up to the crack of my ass, where my lacy panties disappear between my butt-cheeks.
“You better be wearing this shit for me, and not for that so called friend I met outside. He was all over you before. Did you let him get a taste of what’s mine?” he roars, jealousy shining through his deep voice.
“No, he’s the owner of the gallery, fucker, and my friend. And happens to be gay.” I pause, why am I telling him this? Why am I not making him suffer like he did to me, by making me fall in love with him then casting me aside like we were nothing but a bet?
