Page 87 of Descent


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“Be a good girl,” I warn her.

“Why?” she tosses back. “You’re not a good man.”

My lips curve up as I kiss the shell of her ear, replacing my hand on her tit. “True, but irrelevant.”

Struggling to break free from my embrace, she says, “I don’t want you touching me.”

Rolling her onto her stomach and holding her down as I lift the back of her robe and pry open her legs, I inform her, “I don’t care.”

It’s true in the moment. I want her to eventually warm up to me, but right now I’ve been without her for too long. I just want to feel her wet heat around my bare cock, no matter the cost.

She puts up a fight as I try to get my cock inside her, thrashing wildly as if it’s even possible for that to accomplish anything. All it does is make me rougher. I hold her face down against the pillow until she’s gasping for breath.

I grip a fistful of her hair like the horn of a saddle as I ease my cock into her tight, resisting heat. She groans with frustration, but my moan is all spine-tingling pleasure as I lose myself in her lovely body.

Once I’m buried inside her, some of the fight goes out of her. I don’t trust her to stop entirely given the mood she’s in tonight, so I let go of her hair and pull her wrists behind her back. I secure them with one hand so I can hold her hip with the other while I find a steady rhythm driving into her pussy.

She refuses to participate, but I don’t mind at all. The pleasure still builds and builds as I hold her thighs apart and thrust into her hot little body again and again. She tries to be as still as a corpse, but she breaks now and then to shove my hand away when I try to touch her clit and make it good for her, too.

Taking the hint, I stop trying to pleasure her and use her body brutally like the monster she accused me of being earlier tonight.

When I’m done with her and my cum is dripping from between her lovely thighs, she lays there on her stomach, dead silent. She tries to be, anyway. I hear her sniffle a couple of times and realize she might be crying.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“Like you care,” she says lowly.

“Of course I care,” I assure her, dragging her back against me and absently kissing the side of her head. “Broken toys are much less fun to play with.”

Not appreciating my taunt, she shoves at me and scoots away, curling up with her back to me at the edge of the bed.

I don’t like that at all, but just for tonight, I’ll give her some space.

Chapter Twenty Six

Hallie

The bedroom is dark even though it’s morning. Calvin likes it that way, and even the sun can’t seem to penetrate his iron will.

He blocks out all the light in the bedroom with blackout shades that he hasn’t drawn yet, presumably because I’m still sleeping. I don’t know what time it is. I only know it’s daytime because bit of sunlight sneaks past the edges of the blinds. I don’t know if Calvin’s here or at work. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if I’m here alone, but I hope I am. I’ll figure it out. I just don’t want to see him.

At least I think I don’t want to see him until I wash up and emerge from the bedroom in just the robe he bought me. I hear voices from the gallery. Curiosity compels me to pad down the hall and investigate.

Calvin stands there talking to two men in police uniforms.

My heart plummets. I don’t know why. It’s not as if I’ve done anything illegal, but Calvin definitely has.

Is that why they’re here? Has he gone too far this time and it has actually caught up to him?

One of the officers glances in my direction and we lock eyes.

Calvin notices immediately and turns to look. “Sweetheart, there you are. I was just about to come wake you. These two officers need to speak with you.”

Me?

Why would police officers come to Calvin’s apartment looking for me?

I frown and slowly enter the gallery, the marble floor cool against my bare feet. “Oh?”

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