I curl my lips around the barrel, praying he doesn’t pull the trigger.
What a stupid way to die.
Giving a gun a blowjob.
“Look at that.” His voice pulls my attention down to where his hand rests now. “Your body already knows who it belongs to, even if that stubborn little mind of yours hasn’t caught up yet. You’re soaking, kitten.”
I try to pull back, desperate to get the barrel out of my mouth, but that was the wrong move. His focus cuts back to my face instantly, something shifting in his eyes—darker, colder. His hand fists in my hair yanking my head back into place, while his other hand drives the barrel deep into my throat until I gag around it, eyes watering, lungs burning.
“You stop,” he says, his tone terrifyingly calm, “when I tell you to stop.”
He keeps forcing the gun deeper until my body revolts. A violent gag tears through me, then I’m choking, eyes streaming as I retch helplessly.
He yanks it back at once, quick and careful, making sure not a drop touches the weapon.
A low, mocking laugh leaves him.
“Messy.” He tilts his head, eyes dragging over my tear-streaked face. “We’re going to have to work on those mouth skills, kitten.”
Then he pulls out a knife, slicing through the rope around my wrists and ankles in one clean motion. He extends his hand toward me—an almost mocking gesture of courtesy. I look up at him, fear still carved into every bone in my body, yet I take his hand anyway. The last thing I want is to make him angry.
“Time to clean yourself.”
Before I can process the words, his hand hits my chest—hard—and I’m falling backward.
My back breaks the surface, and the water explodes around me, swallowing me whole. I sink fast, heavy as a stone, until my body meets the bottom of the pool and I don’t come back up—I don’t know how!
The water is still around me, almost peaceful. My lungs are already beginning to burn, and somewhere in the back of my mind, a quiet, terrible thought surfaces.
Maybe this is better.
Maybe drowning is kinder than whatever he has planned for me.
My chest tightens. Stars begin to bleed into the edges of my vision—and just as the darkness starts to pull me under, a hand fists in my hair and drags me up with brutal force.
I break the surface gasping, and then his arms are around me—solid and crushing—holding me against his chest.
He jumped in after me.
I grab onto his shoulders, my lungs stuttering around the sudden rush of air, my whole body shaking. He’s taken his helmet off—and without thinking, without considering what it might cost me, my fingers find the hem of his balaclava and start to pull.
The hand around my throat comes out of nowhere. He drives me under in one swift motion, the water closing over my head again, and those few seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity. Then he pulls me back up and I gasp violently, dragging air into my burning lungs.
“Every act of defiance,” he says, his voice completely unmoved, “has a price. Choose your next move carefully.”
Chapter 18
HIM
She’s still grabbing onto my shoulders.
I can feel her fingers—desperate—clawing through my skin. Her whole body shaking against mine, lungs stuttering around air they almost never got back.
I let her cling to me a little longer than necessary. It’s a tactical decision. Nothing more. A woman in shock is unpredictable, and unpredictable means harder to control.
I need her present—functional. Aware of every single thing I’m about to make her face. She needs to be awake for all of it.
Her breathing slowly steadies. The gasping softens into something more controlled, and the moment it does, I feel the shift happen in her body before she’s even conscious of it. The second her lungs stopscreaming, her mind comes back online,and with it, the realization of exactly whose arms she’s been clinging to.
