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Fuck, yes, it’s wrong.
I shouldn’t even have to ask myself that question. He’s my enemy, his father wants me dead, and here I am, wondering what it would be like to have him fuck me again. I crave something I can never have with someone who is completely off-limits.
The door to my room is just ahead, and I race down the hall like I’m being chased by a serial killer.
Only a few feet, and I’ll be in the safety of my room.
That’s as far as I make it before I’m grabbed from behind. A hand slips over my mouth, and my back collides with a firm chest. For a moment, I think it’s Quinton, trying to scare the life out of me, but it’s not. I can tell just by breathing in his scent. Quinton smells woodsy, intoxicating, and warm. This is… this person smells like a monster.
“You think I don’t know that it was you?”
Matteo.His deep, sinister voice slices through me, and the blood in my veins becomes ice. I struggle in his grasp, but the arm around my middle tightens, and the pressure on my ribs becomes so painful, I know he’ll leave bruises. A whimper slips from my lips without permission.
His teeth nip at my ear. “This is all your fault. All of it. Now I have to live in that piece of shit room you used to live in. Wait until my father gets here…” He squeezes me a little tighter, and the air in my lungs becomes a wheeze. “As soon as he arrives, you’ll wish you had never met me.”
Something inside me snaps, and the urge to hurt Matteo festers. I’m tired of being the weak mouse, caught in a trap. I want to be the big bad cat. I want to be strong. I want to save myself. I struggle in his grasp, moving my arms backward, hoping to elbow him in the side. I hit him in the ribs, but it does nothing, and his hold on me tightens.
“Yes, keep struggling. You’re making my cock hard.”
Weak. I’m weak.The words resonate in my mind. I need to do more to protect myself. I need to take care of myself.
Gritting my teeth, I pull forward and then slam my head backward. My head contacts his face, and he releases me instantly. I gasp at the release, shocked I’ve escaped him.
“You fucking bitch!”
I whirl around and press myself against the wall. He cradles his face in his hands, but I can see a rivulet of blood trailing down his face.
A door slams somewhere down the hall, and I watch Matteo’s beady eyes fill with panic. Still, he turns his attention back to me and growls, “You’ll pay for that. Maybe not today, but soon.”
His warning lingers in the air, and I stand tall, my body threatening to crumble to the ground. My chest rises and falls rapidly, and my galloping heartbeat fills my ears.
I’m vaguely aware of him leaving, and I scurry across the floor like a newborn fawn. My fingers are slick with sweat, and I scan my keycard. Rushing through the door, I slap my hand against the light switch to turn it on. Whirling around, I slam the door closed and toss my bag near the tiny closet.
All I can think about is making sure the door is locked so I can erase the whispering threats from my mind.
I want to pretend this is a nightmare and that at any minute I’ll wake up in my bed. I stare at the door, part of me hoping Quinton walks through it.
He could save me, protect me, but he won’t. I’m not safe, and maybe I never was, to begin with.
Matteo is out for revenge, and something tells me he won’t stop until my blood is coating his hands.
