Page 38 of Pucked Around and Found Out

“Let's go.” Her acceptance pulls me from my inner war. I shoot the cunt a wink as I grab her arm and drag her to my car.

“You have three minutes to get the fuck out of here—” Cas’s voice drowns out as the blood roars in my ears. I’m losing control, I can’t focus. There is only two things that can quiet this urge, killing or fucking.

I release her and don't need to utter a single word.

She knows, understands with brutal clarity that if she tries to defy me or attempts to run, it won't end well for her or those cunts waiting out back.

She gets in the car without a word, her silence more damning than any protest.

I say nothing as I start the engine, slam it into drive, and plant my foot on the gas. The car lurches forward with violent acceleration.

I spot her clenching her fists on top of her thighs—knuckles white, tendons standing out. She's scared but won't admit it out loud.

This bad bitch act she has going on is cute, but I can see straight through it.

She's nothing but a fucking puppet.

A toy to be played with when I can be bothered.

The world around us blurs as I keep my foot planted, the speedometer climbing dangerously high. I'm baiting her. Waiting for her to crack and beg me to slow down.

But still, the bitch remains silent beside me.

Not for long.

I yank the wheel hard left without warning. The tires screech in protest and the car slides sideways, but no scream or yelp escapes the fucking cunt.

My jaw clenches so hard it aches.

I'll break her.

I will break her.

I continue straight, the destination clear in my mind. I know exactly where to take her, the place where she'll crumble and finally give in.

I see her stiffen out of the corner of my eye a few minutes later when she registers the road we are travelling down. She shifts in her seat, her breathing changing almost imperceptibly.

I wait for her to ask why here, why this place—but still... silence.

It's fucking infuriating.

The fear should be driving her mad. She should be begging and pleading for her pathetic life. Yet she sits there like she doesn't need to.

Like she's not afraid of me.

I'm the Don of the Devlin Cosa Nostra, and the fact this fairy beside me isn't terrified does not bode well for me.

I need her to be scared. Need her out of her mind with worry. The beast within me feeds off her fear and she isn't feeding him!

I slam on the brakes.

Both of us jerk forward violently, seatbelts catching and slamming us back into place.

“What the fuck!” she screams.

Finally!

I slam the car into park and slowly turn to face her. Fury is plastered across her face like a mask, beautiful and terrible and exactly what I've been waiting for.