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Santino straddles me. “I love—”
“Now, I see you’re using those stripper moves? I knew there was a reason I took out cash tonight.”
“You’ll give me another $750? That’s what my love was worth to you?”
“$750?” I think back to the amount on the club website. “Nope. I’ll double it. I saw those videos. You underestimated your worth, Dirty Santa.”
“Here, I assumed your love was priceless.”
“Let’s not go there, Satan.”
* * *
Head pounding,I grouse awake, running my palm over my temple. I’m balled up against the passenger window. Last night, all I recall is telling myself not to cry.Oh, no, before that, Gina!I was a hot mess, and my mouth got the better of me.
Consigned to my tiny corner of the truck, I glance outside. City life has dissolved. Snow blankets the ground, and peaceful terrain from upstate surrounds the area.
“I have to pee.”
Santino runs his index finger over his bottom lip. I look away, repeating myself in a heated growl.
“Too much to drink, sweetie?”
“Call me any variation of ‘sweet,’ this is my declaration that I’ll follow through with last night’s threat.”
His voice is deliciously tempting. “Refresh my memory.”
“My statement about killing you. Wasn’t that damn drunk, but I’m very determined.”
“You’ve taken everything from me. I see you’ve eaten very well since I last saw you, sweet cakes.” He clutches my inner thigh.
“Are you calling me fat?”
“No.”
“Taken everything from you?” I snarl. He cheated. I hid away for a while to regroup and not embarrass myself bysurrenderingto lust or threatening his life. Apparently, my efforts were futile regarding the latter.
Though I’m facing the window, my backhand starts flying. (Yeah, ladies, a real pimp move. And I bet you’re wondering if I met my mark. Hell, no! As my arm zipped through the air, I felt slightly better, though.)
Santino grips my wrist, squeezing it between his thumb and index finger. My wrist is flung toward me.
“Ouch!”
“That’s what you said when I popped your fucking cherry.”
“You didn’t pop shit!”
“I recall preparing your virgin pussy for me, Bella.”
I glance at him now. “I prefer sweetie, Satan. I have to pee still, too.”
The engine charges as Santino takes the offramp too close to call.
I’m reaching for the dashboard when he chuckles. The shocks on this thing are excellent—not a single lurch or added repercussion to the drummer boy playing my brains out.
A few minutes later, we’re at a creepy gas station, like this is a story geared toward Halloween. I expect an incestuous science project to jump from the wooded area. Snow powders and collects on the windowsill.
“Open the fucking door,” I growl.
