bracing myself by latching onto his arm.
Contact of any sort with him is dangerous. I want so much to be unaffected by him, to truly hate him, but I just can’t. I’m drawn to him on some weird level. I fight it, put on a good show, but in the end, he has this inexplicable power over me. And I think he knows it, too.
“What do you want?” I ask flippantly, aiming for indifference. He sits down in the chair and tugs me onto his lap. My arm rubs against his chiseled chest while his scent infiltrates my defenses.
Fuck. I’m in some serious shit here.
“When I tell you to do something, Essie, you best do it the first time I say or else.” His arm wrapped around my waist is holding me in place so I don’t attempt to get away from him. His other arm is running up and down my leg, his hand teasing my burning flesh.
“You are not the boss of me, Drayden. You can’t order me around and expect me to comply.” I’m trying my best to control my breathing. I can’t give way to the fact that my body is betraying me.
“I own you, Essie. For the foreseeable future, you belong to me and you will do whatever I say, whenever I say it. If you refuse, then there will be consequences.”
“What?” I say as I look at him with disbelief. “No one owns me, you bastard!” I struggle to get free but his punishing hold on me is too tight. “Let me go!” I shout.
“You can fight me, but I will always win. Always .” His hold remains strong, never wavering. There is no hope in getting away from him, not right now. My best plan is to remain still, let him do or say what he came here for and be done with it for tonight.
Tomorrow is a different day.
Once he senses I’m not going to fight him anymore, he relaxes a bit. He leans in closer to me and smells my hair. If I didn’t already have a certain feeling toward this complex man, I would surely think he’s a psycho, smelling me and shit. Who does that? And so blatantly, too? Then again, he is highly intoxicated, so anything he does shouldn’t surprise me.
“Are we going to sit here all night, or did you come in here for a reason?” I can feel him start to harden beneath me. Well, I guess he kind of just answered my question.
“Would you shut the fuck up, Essie? You’re really starting to grate on my last nerve with that never-ending attitude of yours. If anyone has the right to be annoyed here, it’s me. Only me.” When I respond with my silence he continues, gripping my jaw and turning my face toward his. “You know, lots of women have come after me for my money, some even trying to claim they were pregnant with my child. But none have gone about it so diabolically. You get an E for effort in that area.” His one hand inches slowly up my body until he reaches just underneath my breasts. Even though he’s drunk and very upset with me, it’s almost like he’s still conscious of his touch. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he’s trying not to overstep some invisible boundary. But at this point, isn’t it all just moot?
“Were they?” I ask.
It takes him a second to realize I asked him a question. “Were they what?”
“Were they pregnant with your kid? Did you ever knock anyone up?” I’m so blunt about it, but I don’t even care.
“Nope,” he garbles in my ear. “None of them knew I couldn’t have kids. So the joke’s on them, I guess.” He shifts so he can get a closer hold on me, bringing my sex in direct contact with his engorged arousal.
For as tense as my body is now, a small sense of relief floods me. If he can’t have kids then I can’t be pregnant. A small smile starts to form on my lips but disappears just as quickly. “If you can’t have kids then why the hell are you holding me hostage, waiting to see if I am indeed knocked up?”
“Well, nothing’s guaranteed, sweetheart. The doctors said the accident caused a lot of damage, and the chances of me having kids are one in a million. I’ve resigned myself to the
Contact of any sort with him is dangerous. I want so much to be unaffected by him, to truly hate him, but I just can’t. I’m drawn to him on some weird level. I fight it, put on a good show, but in the end, he has this inexplicable power over me. And I think he knows it, too.
“What do you want?” I ask flippantly, aiming for indifference. He sits down in the chair and tugs me onto his lap. My arm rubs against his chiseled chest while his scent infiltrates my defenses.
Fuck. I’m in some serious shit here.
“When I tell you to do something, Essie, you best do it the first time I say or else.” His arm wrapped around my waist is holding me in place so I don’t attempt to get away from him. His other arm is running up and down my leg, his hand teasing my burning flesh.
“You are not the boss of me, Drayden. You can’t order me around and expect me to comply.” I’m trying my best to control my breathing. I can’t give way to the fact that my body is betraying me.
“I own you, Essie. For the foreseeable future, you belong to me and you will do whatever I say, whenever I say it. If you refuse, then there will be consequences.”
“What?” I say as I look at him with disbelief. “No one owns me, you bastard!” I struggle to get free but his punishing hold on me is too tight. “Let me go!” I shout.
“You can fight me, but I will always win. Always .” His hold remains strong, never wavering. There is no hope in getting away from him, not right now. My best plan is to remain still, let him do or say what he came here for and be done with it for tonight.
Tomorrow is a different day.
Once he senses I’m not going to fight him anymore, he relaxes a bit. He leans in closer to me and smells my hair. If I didn’t already have a certain feeling toward this complex man, I would surely think he’s a psycho, smelling me and shit. Who does that? And so blatantly, too? Then again, he is highly intoxicated, so anything he does shouldn’t surprise me.
“Are we going to sit here all night, or did you come in here for a reason?” I can feel him start to harden beneath me. Well, I guess he kind of just answered my question.
“Would you shut the fuck up, Essie? You’re really starting to grate on my last nerve with that never-ending attitude of yours. If anyone has the right to be annoyed here, it’s me. Only me.” When I respond with my silence he continues, gripping my jaw and turning my face toward his. “You know, lots of women have come after me for my money, some even trying to claim they were pregnant with my child. But none have gone about it so diabolically. You get an E for effort in that area.” His one hand inches slowly up my body until he reaches just underneath my breasts. Even though he’s drunk and very upset with me, it’s almost like he’s still conscious of his touch. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he’s trying not to overstep some invisible boundary. But at this point, isn’t it all just moot?
“Were they?” I ask.
It takes him a second to realize I asked him a question. “Were they what?”
“Were they pregnant with your kid? Did you ever knock anyone up?” I’m so blunt about it, but I don’t even care.
“Nope,” he garbles in my ear. “None of them knew I couldn’t have kids. So the joke’s on them, I guess.” He shifts so he can get a closer hold on me, bringing my sex in direct contact with his engorged arousal.
For as tense as my body is now, a small sense of relief floods me. If he can’t have kids then I can’t be pregnant. A small smile starts to form on my lips but disappears just as quickly. “If you can’t have kids then why the hell are you holding me hostage, waiting to see if I am indeed knocked up?”
“Well, nothing’s guaranteed, sweetheart. The doctors said the accident caused a lot of damage, and the chances of me having kids are one in a million. I’ve resigned myself to the
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