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The motherfucker is hard.
“You’re fucking sick.”
“It turns me on to know you can fight back. It’s like you’re begging me to go harder on you next time.”
I shove my knees into his ribs. “There is no next time. Let me out of this fucking house.”
“But baby, look at us. We’re so compatible.” The worst is, he probably believes those words.
“Nate,” I bark. But my threat is empty when he’s the one holding the knife to his throat. His hand is wrapped around mine, and I lose any sort of power if I’m not the one menacing him.
“Harder, Kay. Show me how far you’re willing to go.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“Do it.”
My eyes narrow on him. What kind of fucked-up game is he playing?
“Kill me and go handle NSC. Kill me and let your pitiful crew get eaten by your enemies. Only one person has a leash on Emma, and that’s me.”
“I can handle Emma Scott.”
“Without money? With a weakened crew? After giving her the entire North Shore? Please, think before you speak.”
His words hit me right in my pride. I would rather die than ever admit defeat against NSC.
“I can fucking handle Emma Scott.”
His knowing smile makes my palm sweat around the hilt of the knife. “Then kill. Me.”
He tightens his grip on my hand. Three deep breaths later, I still haven’t killed him, and I can’t find a single reason why. But that’s about as long as he decides to give me.
I was wrong when I said he wasn’t moving his left arm because of the pain. Suddenly, I feel his left hand under me. I startle, but I can’t get off him. Then he’d be free of me, and I’d be in a weak position. Even on top of him, with a kitchen knife perforating his shoulder and another at his throat, I’m in a weak position.
He doesn’t touch me, and I wonder what he’s doing until I hear the zipper of his pants. When he shifts again, I feel his hard dick against me.
“You fucking sick bastard.” I’m furious. Not even at him, at myself. Because after that tough-love self-talk in the bathroom, I feel myself getting wet again.
What was the point of trying to find the strong woman in me if she disappears the second Nate touches me?
“Don’t move, little sunflower.”
He pulls at my sweats. It’s almost painful because of the way I’m sitting. He has to use strength, violence in minimal movements, until they finally give, and he manages to lower them just enough to pull my thong to the side and press his hard-on against my soaking entrance.
He chuckles, so satisfied with himself I could punch him.
“Stop this, you fucking maniac.”
He shakes his head. “Kill me.”
He doesn’t even have space to rub the length of his dick against me, so he can’t prepare me or himself. Our bodies are too close together already.
No, all he can do is spear into me without mercy.
My mouth falls open, my eyes fluttering shut. “Shit.” The hiss I intended is a desperate rasp.
“How are you feeling, Kayla?”
