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“What was that about not believing the truth when it’s what you don’t want to hear?” I taunt, now only centimeters away.
I hold the half-eaten piece of bread toward her mouth, but she turns her face away, her jaw twitching. Not so much fun when she’s caught in her own bullshit.
Trying another tactic, I ask, “Why did your father decide not to show up for that meeting? My family is sincere in reaching out to create an alliance, but that’s not possible if he’s acting in bad faith. What can we do to fix this?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea,” she seethes.
“Is there a way I could reach out to him? Get through to him?”
“I’m telling you the honest truth. I don’t know.”
“Do you know anything at all?” I snap, tossing the toast across the room, the sound of it scraping softly against the hardwood floors.
Elena winces but remains silent, staring at the tabletop rather than me. She doesn’t want to play nice? That’s fine. She’ll soon wish she had.
I round the front of her and lunge forward until she has no choice but to look at me. She draws a quick, sharp breath, sitting up straighter at my movement. Yes, this is better; this is what I wanted. To watch her resolve fade away. She can pretend to be tough and loyal to her family all she wants when there is a table between us.
It’s another story now. Once my hands are on her, all bets are off. I doubt she’s forgotten the way I manipulated her last night—the faint bruising around her throat tells me it would be impossible to forget.
“Here’s the thing, Elena.”
She flinches every time I use her name, which for some reason, excites me a little. Bringing my hand to her neck, I run the back of two fingers along her collarbone, tracing the bruises I left behind. She shies away even though it’s pointless. She’s tied and bound, completely at my mercy.
“I appreciate your loyalty to your family. I do. That’s the first and most important principle for people like us, isn’t it? Family above all else. But I’m sure you must know there’s a limit to that. No one could blame you if you smartened up and saw how useless it is to deny me. I’m going to give you the chance to help yourself here.” I pause, kneeling in front of her, bringing myself eye level with her center. The front of her dress has ridden up her thighs from all the squirming, her bright pink panties visible to me.
The need shouldn’t burn so strongly within me, but it does, and before she knows what’s happening, I yank the chair closer, its legs scratching the floor loudly.
“Ah,” she shrieks, her voice seemingly caught in her throat. “Please, no,” she pleads.
Ignoring her cries, I touch her inner thigh, and she fights to close her legs to keep me away. I jerk them apart, my focus only on the seat of her underwear. A smile stretches across my face when I spot the slightest hint of wetness long since dried up.
Her skin is soft under my touch as I make my way closer to her sex. And when I trace my thumb over the damp spot, her body shudders. I lean forward, bury my face in her crotch and inhale her scent, locking it to memory. My dick strains against the underside of my zipper, but I will myself to calm, mentally promising myself that the day will come when I get to play in her pretty little pussy, but right now, it’ll have to wait.
It isn’t lost on me that the moment I pressed my face to her pussy, the fight in her faded just a bit. The recollection brings another grin to my face, but I stifle it before it festers fully.
She whimpers when I get to my feet, reach around, take the back of her chair, and turn it so she’s facing away from the table. Her already huge, fear-filled eyes widen farther when I pull up a chair of my own and place it in front of her, setting it down backward and straddling it with my arms wrapped around the back.
“Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll take it easy on you. You have my word. I won’t hurt you…” This is her last shot. If she denies me, she’ll end up wishing like hell she hadn’t. “It’s up to you.” I rest my chin on the chair, never breaking eye contact while reaching into my back pocket to withdraw a switchblade.
She lets out another whimper, and every muscle in her body tenses at the sight of it once it’s visible. “What are you doing?”
“Having a conversation. What does it look like?” It’s delicious, her fear. I can almost taste it, and it only makes me want more. I’m a starving man in front of a buffet, wanting to gorge himself until he gets sick. Though I doubt I would ever get sick of her reactions, so predictable yet still so sweet.
“I honestly don’t know what you want. I don’t know anything.”
“That’s still the story you’re going with, huh?” I don’t know if I admire her now or hate her for making this so damn difficult. Why is she covering for this asshole? He sent her into the lion’s den and hasn’t bothered reaching out to reclaim her. Can’t she see that? She doesn’t strike me as stupid. Brainwashed maybe but not stupid.
I reach out slowly, the tip of the blade gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the windows. It’s a beautiful sight made even more beautiful when I touch the tip to her bare thigh, pressing in slightly. Her flesh is creamy smooth, and I can imagine it painted red. Oh, what a sight that would be.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” she whispers, trembling now.
“Careful,” I warn. “Move too much, and I’m not sure what will happen. I’d hate to pierce this smooth skin of yours.”
“I don’t know what you want.”
“You know exactly what I want,” I growl, tracing a line along her thigh, reaching the hem of her dress and easing it up a bit at a time. “And I’m not a man who takes well to disappointment. It could be that I’ll have to satisfy myself in other ways.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, and a tear leaks from both, trickling down her cheeks. Her chin quivers, and a tiny whimper squeaks out of her, and oh fuck, that’s nice. Too nice.
