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"You have no way to prove it."
"I'm sure there are fingerprints all over my fucking room," she snaps, but all I do is flash her my hands in my signature black leather gloves. She pales, her bottom lip trembling. "You got nothing on me, sugar. But you're right about one thing. You've seen me kill now. You're a liability."
She looks shocked and afraid as I grab her forearm. "Don't kill me."
"Why shouldn't I?" I bark. Even though I have no intention of harming the barely legal waitress, this is giving me a hard-on. I love the fear in her eyes. It's fucking exciting.
"Because I..." She blanches, shakily tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I have to... I have to..."
"Great reasons, sugar," I hiss. "I'm not going to kill you. But you are coming with me."
"What? Where?" She resists. "Let me go."
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, sugar. You fight me, I'll put a knife to your throat and walk you to my goddamn car. Or you can come willingly."
"I'm not going anywhere with you," she spits out. "Don't you think someone will call the cops if you drag me through the street with a knife pressed to my neck?"
"See this?" I flash her the red ribbon on my wrist. "Nobody will fuck with me. Not even the police. Now come the fuck on."
She doesn't argue, but I can see the trace of tears in her eyes. Ignoring it, I make her walk ahead of me. Two blocks go by. People see us and avert their eyes when I flash them the ribbon on my wrist. No one's going to help Monroe, not when I'm with her.
We reach my car, and her eyes widen when she sees it. I put her in the back seat and make quick work of tying her up with the seat belt.
"Are you serious?" Monroe growls.
"Very." I tighten the seat belt so she's immobilized. "I'm not risking you attacking me while I drive. Now be a good girl and shut the fuck up so I can fucking think."
I get into the driver's seat. I don't have to think about where I'm taking her because I already know where I want her. In my house, on my bed, with her legs spread and my seed dripping out of that delicious little cunt I haven't tasted yet. Revving the engine, I start driving.
Every so often, I check on Monroe in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes are open, and tears are sliding down her cheeks. If I didn't have a black fucking heart, I'd actually feel sorry for her. But I'm ruthless. A killer. I wanted her, so I'm fucking taking her. It's not like she'll be missing out. Her life seems pretty fucking shitty, so I'll give her a better one. I'll make her appreciate me.
The short drive to my house is charged with tension. I pull up in front of my house, and Monroe closes her eyes so she doesn't have to see where I've brought her. I kill the engine after parking in the garage and take a deep breath, trying to figure out how the fuck I'm going to handle this.
I don't have a room to put her in. All this has happened too fast, and I'm not fucking prepared for it. Until I figure this shit out, I'll just have to improvise.
I get out of the car and open the back door to find her glaring at me, eyes filled with contempt. "Are you going to be a good girl, or are you going to make this difficult for yourself?"
She doesn't reply. Just keeps staring daggers at me in return, which only makes me smirk.
"Ah, the silent treatment. So fucking original, sugar. Come on, we're going."
I undo the seat belts holding her in place and help her get up. She doesn’t fight me, but she is fucking shaking, and her fear excites me. I march her into the house. If she’s surprised by how beautiful, expensive, and modern my home is, she doesn’t show it. She just keeps walking until we reach the bedroom.
“Get on the bed,” I hiss.
“Why?” she snaps. “So you can fucking rape me?”
“Keep dreaming. On the bed. Now.”
Sullenly, she gets up on the bed, and I open the nightstand to grab a pair of handcuffs. I attach one to her wrist and the other to the railing of the bed.
“Don’t do this,” she says softly as the handcuffs click shut. “Don’t leave me here. I have... I have things and people I love out there. Don’t keep me here.”
“You give me no choice, sugar.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she rushes to say. “I won’t tell anyone you killed those men. Just let me go.”
“I can’t,” I mutter, running a finger over her cheek. She flinches when I do it. I should feel like a bastard for doing this shit to her, but I'm just getting fucking excited. My cock strains against my pants, eager to break through the fabric and bury itself in her throat. But I fight my instincts the best I fucking can. "Are you afraid of me?"
