Love Scars: Bad Boy's Bride(12)

His words broke in a hiss. His hips rocked against mine, making me shake with his rhythmic pumps. I gasped when I felt the hard ridge reaching almost up to his stomach, a swollen erection as angry as the rest of him, primed and ready to fulfill his nasty promises.

God! There's really no going back, is there? Why don't I feel more terrified?

Without another word, he spun me around and pressed his hand gently on the back of my head, lowering me down as he yanked the passenger door open.

“Get in. We're going. My boys'll have backup out here in a little bit to bring them home. Only ass I'm waiting for tonight is yours, and not much longer.”

He climbed into the driver's seat a second later. One hand started the ignition and went on the wheel. The other, he laid on my plump thigh, giving it a good squeeze when he pressed the accelerator.

The tension on the short drive back was thick, suffocating, all sex and hate and horror.

I was about to be ravished by an absolute demon and there was no stopping it. Deep down inside, fire pulsed each time I imagined him throwing me down on that huge bed and ripping into me.

Sweat. Pain. Desire.

I saw myself clenching the sheets and trying to fight. But the battle was lost the night before, and the rest of the war today. Against all sanity, I wanted him.

And it made me sick. I'd never admit it to his face – never as a Rossini girl, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean anymore – but that twisted part I refused to acknowledge didn't lie. The very same part of me that had nearly given him everything the night before burned a hundred times stronger barely twenty-four hours later.

I seriously wondered if I was losing my mind. If it was coming apart, then he was there to pick up the pieces, to shape and mold and fuck me together again.

Back at home, he pulled up to the huge entryway beneath the canopy and headed for my door. My fingers trembled as I snapped off my seat belt. One jerk up and I was in his arms again, higher than before. David refused to let my feet touch the ground until we were upstairs, tossed over his shoulder like a naughty kitten.

Pet, he always called me. Wasn't that all I was to him? To everyone?

Whether it was serving this beast or my asshole father, I was always taken for granted, always forced to do what someone else told me.

I didn't want to be his damned pet. If he was going to take me, I wanted to be his lover. The surprises kept coming, but no one could take away how I handled them.

The door to the master suite slammed shut. My signal to start beating his shoulders. And I mean really beating them, trying to make it hurt, even a little bit.

Confusion moved my fists more than anything else. I was pissed because it was happening so fucking fast, and I wasn't even sure if I wanted it. Then his leg brushed between mine, and a hotter, hornier call than ever screamed in my head.#p#分页标题#e#

Stop fighting it. Face the storm for once.

David seemed more annoyed than anything else. He tackled me to my back on the bed when we got into the room. His hands hooked around my wrists, flattening them into the mattress, shaking my arms.

I stopped struggling. I just breathed, flushed red, hating the fresh tears pricking my eyes.

“What the fuck's wrong with you? You still upset about your old man?”

“I'm upset because you're doing this! You're taking what you want, and I have nothing to say about it. Story of my fucking life.”

His grip loosened, if only a little. David looked me up and down, no doubt trying to control the hard on below his belt, shaking his head.

“You're right, babe. There's no stopping this, same as I told you before,” he growled, pushing hot breathe against my lips, dangerously close and so damned hot. His words reassured my body, but not my head.

“What you don't get is how you're torturing my ass too. You think this is all roses for me, losing my fucking mind every hour since I picked you up from that drop site in the ghetto?” He picked my hands up and pressed them down again, hard.

“I don't care. Just do what you're going to do. Nothing else matters...” My head thrashed from side to side, wishing so bad I could sink into the ground, oblivious to whatever else my hellish life had in store for me.

“This was supposed to be about fucking over old man Rossini,” he growled. “I was supposed to take your virgin cunt like the animal I am and enjoy the blood on my cock. I was supposed to drink your fucking tears and love it like a White Russian with the smoothest shit a man can toss down his throat. Revenge was supposed to be fucking easy, and it's not!”

He took one hand off mine and pounded his fist into the bed next to me. The force made me jump.

“How can you think you're so goddamned helpless, powerless, babe? You poisoned my sex drunk ass the first time I laid a finger on you. Yeah, of course I wanna split you open and let my dick frolic in that hot, wet slit you got between your legs, showing you all the ways that tight body's meant to fuck me when I claim it...”