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Not entirely true, but close enough, and she knew it.
There was nothing she could do to me, even if her brother was the DA and she got a cop that wasn’t on my payroll. The charges would never be filed, and I would never make it as far as even having a mugshot taken.
I rammed into the door again, and this time the wood gave a satisfying crack along the hinges.
“When I get this door open, that dress better be in the fucking trash, and you better be on your knees ready to beg like the good girl I paid for.”
“You don’t pay for ladies!” she fired at me. “You pay for whores. That’s what you treated me like the other day, so that is what I dressed like.”
“If you keep talking like that, I will find a much better use for your mouth,” I warned.
Without waiting for another reply, I ran into the door again, and this time the wood splintered, and the door collapsed to the floor.
Amelia was still in that torn green dress, her pussy exposed, mouth open, eyes wide.
My breath was billowing in and out in rapid pants, and I could only imagine the beast I looked like to her right now.
I stalked into the room, stepping on top of what was her door and taking off my jacket.
“Now, little girl, are you going to find out what it’s like to be punished, or are you going to beg for mercy?”
CHAPTER 11
AMELIA
“Get out!” I screamed, hoping there was no quiver in my voice as I did so.
He took another menacing step toward me. “I’m not going to tell you again. Take off the dress, or I will take it off for you.”
“You have no right,” I bit back.
“You’re my future wife. I have every right.”
“You can’t just come here and demand that I?—”
“Act and dress in ways befitting my wife. I most certainly can. And I have.” He cleared the distance between us and took hold of the dress’s fabric. The sound of material ripping blended with my screams of protest.
I fought to keep standing, but my knees buckled.
He caught me and yanked me back up.
“Please,” I whimpered.
“Please what?”
“Please,” I repeated.
“Please what?”
“Please don’t hurt me,” I whispered.
“Take off what’s left of the dress,” he demanded.
“No,” I cried.
I prayed he didn’t make me, but I knew he would.
My hands trembled as I reached behind my back and grabbed the fabric. I pulled the ends apart and let the dress fall to the floor around me. The cool air hit my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
