Page 52 of Sinister Promise

There was absolutely no way this ended well for me.

All the times I had cursed my wretched lot in life crashed over me. But no matter how bad it sometimes got, I wanted to live. I didn't want to die in some ditch, discarded like trash. That was not how I was going to die, at least not without a fight. I thrashed and kicked, but it only earned me a sharp smack on my already sore ass.

"No," I cried out, ignoring the pain and the way the hood over my head muffled everything. He probably couldn't hear me, but I didn't care. I had to try. "Please, mygrandmother depends on me. I have obligations, responsibilities. You can't do this. My grandmother needs me."

Breath sawing in and out of my lungs, I tried to kick out, succeeding only in prompting his arm to tighten around my knees, pressing my legs to his body.

I tried using my shoulders and what little core strength I had—anything to make it impossible for him to keep a hold on me, but it didn't matter.

My skin was suddenly covered in warm fabric before a rush of cold air hit me.

He was taking me outside.

Muffled voices reached me through the hood over my head, but the words were indiscernible.

Then I was tossed onto a car seat, the leather soft and cool against my bare skin. It even soothed the fiery heat across my ass. The hood felt tighter; the way I landed pulled at the buckle around my throat.

It became harder to breathe. Beads of sweat ran down my face, stinging my eyes as I tried to wriggle myself to the other side of the car.

The seat below me vibrated as the engine started, and the doors all slammed shut with deafening thuds. Someone was in the back with me as the car pulled away.

There was no escape.

Despite that, I tried to talk, to plead, to beg for my life. I couldn't make out any response.

"Please, I'll do anything. Please, don't kill me."

Warm hands wrapped around my ankles, and I was pulled back across the seat.

Then, I was lifted onto a lap and forced to straddle a man's hips.

I thought it was Pavel, but there was no way to be sure.

I could barely smell some kind of cologne through the hood, but I wasn't sure if it was Pavel, or his cologne still on my skin, or even the hood itself.

The only clue I had was the hard cock, barely contained by his pants pressing between my thighs.

Warm breath ghosted over my throat, and then—a wet mouth was on my nipple, sucking and pulling at the sensitive flesh gently, almost reverently.

I lurched backward, trying to break contact, ignoring the way my blood heated at the touch.

The move cost me a hard slap to one breast, then the other, before a hand grabbed the collar holding the hood to my throat and pulled me back against my assailant.

I felt rather than heard the growl vibrate through his chest. His hands dropped down and gripped my waist, strong and possessive.

It was Pavel.

It had to be.

No other man could growl like that and have my body respond with tight, hard nipples, softening stomach muscles, and a warming core.

The man was dangerous, depraved, and had a control over my body that defied logic and every survival instinct I had.

Why did that thought calm me?

Why did it matter?

The mouth returned to my breast, his lips, teeth, and tongue sucking and nipping at the puckered flesh while his thumbs rubbed small circles on my hips, making my body buzz with heat.

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