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“You wouldn’t,” my words are a mere pained whisper, “Because you’ll all be there with me.”
“Don’t fucking threaten me, kid.” Grant drives another fist into my gut, it’s hard enough that I crumble to the floor. “And remember that dead men can’t talk.”
Hunched over on the floor and sucking in air, I hear the door slam.
This isn’t the end of this motherfucker.
When I scramble to my feet, the engine of his car roars as he pulls away from the house. I race toward the door and grab my keys from the table in the foyer to chase after him.
Climbing into the car, I quickly slip it into drive and tear down the long entryway. While I’m fully intent on chasing him down, I’m surprised when I find myself slamming on the brakes as I pass her.
CHAPTER NINE
CORA
Roleplaying and acting out outlandish scenarios aren’t exactly out of the norm in my line of work, but this definitely takes the cake.
This Daddy caught me shit—or whatever just happened—is weird.
Heels in hand, walking barefoot in the grass along the long cobblestone drive, I’m startled by a large, black SUV barreling toward the open gate. Not far behind, I can hear the hum of a loud sports car rapidly approaching. It whizzes past me, and the brake lights immediately light up as the tires squeal to a stop.
When I reach the car, the passenger window is down, and I immediately take note of Samuel’s bloody face.
“Get in the car.” His tone is gruff.
This might be too much—even for me—so I hesitate to do as he commands.
“I’m not fucking done with you,” he growls as he climbs from the car and stalks toward me.
“Actually, I think you are.” I continue walking. Taking a step to walk around him, he firmly grips my hair and pulls me back to him with such force that I hiss in pain, “Fuck.”
“I’m still fucking hard.” His large hand wraps around my throat, and he squeezes firmly as he grinds himself against my ass.
Trying to push away from him, I grunt, “And I don’t see how that’s my problem anymore. I think we’re done here.”
I can play his game.
He has made it beyond obvious that he likes to be in control.
The control.
The forcefulness.
The need for power.
A heads-up on his kinks would’ve been helpful.
I would’ve played less willing from the beginning.
Samuel pivots slightly and shoves me forward. My hands crash into the side of his car as I attempt to catch my balance. His body is immediately against mine, pressing me firmly against the hot, sunbaked metal. Warm breath blows against my neck as his hands fumble between us.
He pulls the modest slit at the back of my dress until he tears the seam clear up to my waist. The warm, summer air blows across my now bare ass as he continues to fiddle between us, undoubtedly undoing his pants. “You don’t get to suck my cock and walk away like a fucking tease.”
“We aren’t doing this.” I push back from the car—continuing to indulge his fantasy—but he shoves me forward and holds me forcibly in place as he kicks my feet wide.
Shoving himself into me, he groans against my neck, “You’re going to take my cock in this soaked cunt of yours, and you’re going to fucking love it.”
He’s so fucking thick. I wince and whimper in pain as he aggressively stretches me. Even through the pain, I can feel him blissfully sliding along my walls. So good I nearly forget about protection, and I blurt out, “Samuel. Condom.”
