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"Read it, and I'll stop," I tell her even though I don't want to.
"I'm not reading shit." Her words of defiance enthral me to fuck her harder, deeper, faster. She's afraid to say she likes this.
When I pull out to see her cum all over my cock, my eyes nearly roll to the back of my head. Her walls love me, and her body loves this.
"Look at how hard your titties are? You like this cock, don't you?" I stop pushing in and out of her.
Gemma takes a beat to catch her breath. The hesitation in her answer betrays her confusion.
"It's okay if you like it, Gemma," I sing to her as I resume stroking the softest pussy I've ever had.
"Fuck you, just finish so we can get on with it. I can't read while you fuck me," she pants and stills her body.
"Your wish is my command." I chuckle and finish fucking her. Every stroke, every push, every pull, every thrust. It's all better than the last. The sounds of her wetness coating me with her pleasure are the only sounds I can hear.
I reach around to grab her tits, fondling and squeezing them as I pump into her pussy with speed and primal vigor. The urge to come inside of her, to claim her, to make her body mine is overwhelming. The way I slide into her effortlessly as she begins to moan with her next orgasm has me on the edge.
A few more strokes and my body constricts as it shoots my release inside of Gemma.
"Oh fuck, I needed that." I huff and put my dick away. "Thanks. Now, read the damn paper before I fuck you for the next eight hours nonstop."
Another pause, hesitation in her reply. Instead of saying what she wants about me fucking her for hours on end, she speaks softly, "Um, okay. This message is for you, Pop. You need to have Paulie and the watches, or Paulie and the money in the car that was jacked by tomorrow, Thursday night. You'll have until 10 p.m. or you can pick up pieces of me where the robbery took place."
The sobs come after she realizes what the message says. I walk around to stop her phone from recording. A grin spreads across my face as I watch the playback. It only takes a few minutes to chop the video into segments.
I only send the audio of her reading the demands of her release to her father. The video airdrops to my wireless hard drive, and her father calls her back moments later.
"I guess Daddy finally checked his messages. Let's see what he has to say." I smile, pressing the green button to answer the call. "Good evening, Mr. Arnold."
"You sick son of a bitch—" The anger in his voice lets me know he received the recording.
"Language. My mother has nothing to do with this. This is your fault, Mr. Dennis Arnold, owner of Gold Royale Luxury Transport. Residential address of 765 Van Duger Road, Staten Island, New York. Shit, that's a fucking commute. Oh wait, you don't commute. You allow this beautiful woman to open and close up shop by herself. You should know how dangerous that is, Mr. Arnold."
"Is Gemma alright?" he finally asks.
"She's just perfect," I tell him, blowing her a kiss. She snarls and rolls her eyes. I return my attention to the call. "You have your instructions. As soon as you get my things back, Mr. Arnold, you'll get your things back."
"You'd better not hurt her, you animal," he growls into the phone.
I put the phone on speaker so Gemma can hear her father's words loud and clear. I ask him, "I'm sorry, can you say that again? I didn't quite catch that."
Dennis roars into the phone, shouting angrily. "You'd better not touch a hair on her fucking head."
I can't help but laugh. "It's too late for that, Daddy-Oh. Get me what you stole, and maybe I'll leave parts of her untouched."
CHAPTER 4
Gemma
The sinister tone in Knox's voice lets me know we're far from done with one another. The way he owns my sexual release, controls the way my body reacts to him, driving me crazy while my mind screams for me to figure a way out. I refuse to let this night be the end of me, and I refuse to acknowledge that maybe… maybe I like it.
Still, the nausea spiraling from my gut to my head has me considering if I do enjoy him. The thickness of his cock, slamming in and out of me, making me come repeatedly. Fuck. There's something wrong with me. It's not supposed to feel good. I'm not supposed to like him. I'm not supposed to enjoy the way he takes what he wants.
I don't want to. I shouldn't. This isn't the way men are supposed to treat women, or anyone for that matter. Why is this happening with him? There's a way for the mind to block out events like this, but my twisted imagination is thinking about the next time he's going to shove his cock anywhere inside of me… and how I’m actually looking forward to it.
Goddammit. The thought alone has me clenching my thighs together.
I don't have to think. I don't have to tell him what to do. He takes what he wants and what Knox wants is me. But, I don't want to be his prisoner. Participant? I'd consider it under different circumstances. For now, I'll just try to keep him from getting too violent. I can only hope he doesn't keep his promise to leave me in pieces.
