She squeals in fright, and I manage to catch her before she falls right out of the car and lands face-first on the cement garage floor.
“Get your hands off me!” she demands, turning to fight me and rubbing against my cock, which is now semi-hard.
She doesn’t notice, though, in her rage.
I let her go, and she climbs out, dusting herself off angrily and storming towards the heavy steel door. She starts pushing buttons on the panel on the wall.
“Error,” the system says. “Error. Error. Error,” each time she slams in the wrong code.
“What the fuck!” she yells, turning to face me again. “Open it right now!”
I lean against the side of the car, watching her search for a way out with one hand in my pocket and the other playing with a silver Zippo that I flick open and closed, a habit I developed when I was still in high school.
“I said let me go!” she demands again, stomping her foot.
“Sorry, darling. I can’t do that,” I say, pushing away from the car and slipping the Zippo back into my pocket. “You may aswell come inside, because there’s no way out from this garage,” I smirk, letting my eyes dance over her again.
She huffs and folds her arms over her chest.
I leave the door leading into the house open behind me and hear her storming in after me. It’s a safe house. There is literally no way in or out without the code, and I am the only one with the code.
Izabel storms around the living room, trying every door and every window. She’s getting more and more frustrated. I watch her, then wander into the kitchen to get a beer, and come out to watch her again.
Holding up the beer I brought for her, I say, “Do you want one?”
“I don’t want a fucking beer, are you crazy? Let me go!”
She is adamant about this, but obviously, it isn’t going to happen.
The thing is that my entire plan got stripped to shreds earlier when that guy approached her. I wasn’t supposed to take her until the end of the week. The safe house isn’t even ready for her yet. I mean, yes, it’s safe. But I was going to stock it a bit more. It’s not the end of the world, though. I can make do. But my plans did go to hell.
What did she say in the car?
You have no idea who I am, do you?
Was she referring to her connections to the Belovs?
“Why don’t you sit down for a second,” I tell her, more of a command than a request.
She spins to face me and scoffs, a dark, bitter smile on her face. “Why don’t you go to hell?” she snaps back.
Oh, fuck, she’s so fucking sexy.
“What did you mean in the car?” I ask, ignoring her rudeness. Rather enjoying it, actually.
She turns to look at me with her eyes narrowed. Crinkles form at the corners, and her nose scrunches, too.
“When,” she huffs.
“Who are you?” I ask, sipping my beer. “Were you referring to your connections with the Belovs?”
She starts to laugh. “It’s a bit late to be askingnow,isn’t it’s it?” She places her hands on her hips and throws me a challenging glare.
“Not really. It doesn’t change anything,” I tell her calmly.
“But youdoknow who I am, at least partially, because you know I am connected to the Belovs. Is that what this is about?”
“Mm,” I huff, standing up and walking towards her. “Perhaps, perhaps not.”
