Page 92 of Fatality

I can't kill her now, I'm having too much fun with her.

Genuinely, she isn't begging for her life like everyone else I usually kill.

No.

She taunts me, hits me back, bites me.

That's far more addictive than her submitting or dying.

I had to be careful with my gunshot wound. If I went back to Ren with the stitches torn open, he'd start asking questions.

And I won't let them know I have a little entertainment on the side.

She despises me, I despise her.

From what I know about her, she'd never fucking let me touch her.

I'm not even interested in that shit. She's infuriating, she can't keep still, she can't fucking stop shouting.

And she won't let me have my revenge in peace.

“Fuck!” I punch my dashboard. “That fucking brat can't even shut her mouth while I have my hand around her throat.”

I grip the steering wheel, my jaw tightening.

“Is she mad?”

When I think about it, she must be. Her status must've gone straight to her pretty, infuriating head.

Or why would she look at me with those mismatched eyes like that? With everything except fear for her life?

I start my car and shift gears, but when I move my foot toward the gas pedal, my gaze drifts to where I can feel the problem.

I'm hard.

Why in the world am I hard? What the fuck is wrong with my dick? The thought of killing her is making me hard?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I drag my hand over the bulge in my pants, palming myself slowly.

A growl rumbles in my throat at the sensation.

How the fuck can that thing get hard for the vicious bitch who kneed me in the balls?

The sheer audacity to bruise my ego. Not once but twice.

I'm so fucking glad I have my pain dampeners.

Otherwise, I'd probably still be wheezing like a bitch on the floor.

And even after that, I'm getting hard?

When all I want is to play with her and kill her once she gets boring?

I want her to submit, to fucking tell me she's sorry. I want her to beg for her life and finally respect me.

I deserve it.