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My eyes squeezed shut, and my finger trembled on the trigger, but I couldn't. Why couldn’t I?
I dropped the gun.
He huffed without a bother to look down when he kicked the weapon to the side as he closed the last bit of distance. "Next time it'll be loaded to add to the excitement."
His words were sickening. He'd tricked me. He'd tested me to see if I was capable. I failed that little test, or rather, I passed it by proving myself too cowardly to kill him.
"I hate you," I spat.
His glance flicked to the shirt I wore. "I don't need your love, Sweet One…" His delicate touch went to the buttons at my chest, using both hands to unbutton the one below my sternum. "Just your desperation."
What did that even mean?
Tingles accompanied the splayed hands that pressed to the tops of my breasts through the fabric as he went down to the next button. For a moment, I felt lost in that touch, forgetting every reason I hated the murderer who skillfully assumed his right to me.
"I can't have you thinking I'm a man who would ever tolerate such hostile behavior, though."
Uncertainty of his intentions turned to panic. I attempted to crawl backward and then spun on the bed to escape him. With a quick grab of my lower legs, he pulled me to him, so my arse angled upward at the edge of the bed. I couldn't fight, only pant.
A finger trailed along my slit, teasing me with promises of physical pleasure. "I should thoroughly punish you with a belt first, but it seems you're more turned on than I am."
I attempted to wiggle free of him again, but a strong hand held my lower back in place. Soon enough, he might include torture and abuse. That had me twisting to get free of him.
"Easy, Sweet. I promise I'll never harm you." His calming promise was accompanied by a pressure that continued onward into me, pumping and rotating to hit the spot I never knew I could love being touched. But he'd already proven more than capable of breaking me without physical abuse. And he chose his words carefully.
I glared over my shoulder to see his satisfaction as his cock replaced the digits, taking his time as he inserted himself all the way into my aching cunt. The slow in and out as his hips rocked was a pleasuring torture I needed to end. Yet, I arched my back and reared my hips, so he had a better angle.
His responding moan was followed by slower pumps. "I knew you loved this as much as I do."
"I don't!"
He groped beneath the shirt to wrap my breasts in his firm grip, squeezing and rubbing his thumbs over my sensitive nipples. "No?" he asked. My traitorous gasp had his pride over mastering my body come out in a hum of self-satisfaction. "You are the happiest little pet in the world right now, leaking with a need for me to make you cum."
But I wasn't his pet. He was so wrong about that. "I'm not your pet." I waited until he pulled back so only his tip was in me then tightened my fist as I turned onto my side to hit him.
He caught the punch and had me rolled onto my back. Before I had a chance to respond, he pinned my wrists next to my head, bracing himself on the grip he had over me. "You have no idea how much your violence turns me on." His hips slammed forward, causing my body to slide further onto the bed. The rolling movement as he slowly withdrew had my legs tensing as I attempted to ignore how good it felt. There were no torture devices to threaten me with. I wouldn’t succumb.
As though he knew my intent to refuse to climax, he reached down and ripped the shirt open, sending the remaining clasped buttons flying. His next motions were a frenzy of his hands and mouth to my breasts, bodies gliding against each other as his pumps sent my back arching and hands clawing at the bed for purchase. With his deepest thrust, he braced on his elbows, gazing down at me as his seed pulsed and coated my walls. Close as I was, I gave in to my desire and attempted to rock against his still body that held me in place.
"No, Sweet One." His lips brushed my panting mouth. "Your needy moans for me are too special for me to be the only one to see and hear them."
Chapter Eight
Once Armon made clear that my options were to go out naked or in the lacy, red lingerie bra and crotchless panties, I had no choice but to take the lesser of the two evils. And so, I walked the corridor of the hotel at his side like an expensive whore.
"Just a minute, Sweet One," he said as we went to a suite far more luxurious than I’d awoken in. This must have been where he stayed. I waited on a couch as he went into a room.
Cade glowered at me from where he stood next to the door, guarding it as though to stop me if I attempted to follow Armon.
I pulled a pillow in front of me to cover some of my exposed skin. Not long after, Armon returned, placing orders to Cade in a language I didn't understand.
The driver—or rather murderer—nodded and left the suite before Armon extended a white, long-sleeved, collared shirt to me. By the size, I knew it to be his. "For if you're cold," he said as he went into the open kitchen area.
I quickly worked my arms through the sleeves and clasped several buttons of his fancy dress shirt as I went to sit on a stool at a marble kitchen countertop.
"Please, eat whatever you like. I know you're hungry, and we have a long night ahead of us." He brought out several things to choose from, including wraps, salads, and fresh sides. "I can order you something warm as well. What would you like?"
There was only one thing I wanted. "For you to stop playing games." I scraped the marble surface of the bar I sat in front of.
