Page 156 of Crushing Clover

What if he didn’t like me at all?

What if it had all been manipulation to make me behave?

I bit my lips together, trying to stop them from trembling.

What if he was getting rid of me because it was easier than caring about someone?

“You owe me a taste for all that trouble.” He was reaching between us, fumbling with his zipper, then ripping my gossamer thin panties away with a rough jerk, burning my hips as they tore free.

“No!”

“Shut the fuck up.” He transferred both of my wrists to one hand and clamped the one he’d freed over my mouth as I tried to scream. The sound died behind his meaty hand, and the residual sound was swept away on the wind.

No, no, no!

The tip of his cock pushed against me, slipping in the slickness Lucky had left me with earlier.

I sobbed in helpless anger. My brain was trying to shut down—to deny this was happening.

His dick wasn’t big, but he was mean about it, jamming it in crooked and using the pain he inflicted to subdue me. He transferred his grip to my hips to fuck me hard and fast, trying to intimidate me, but his grunting red face told me he was about to lose control. I tried to headbutt him, but he jerked aside and gave an ugly laugh.

“Such a tight little whore. Why isn’t Warren keeping you for himself?”

“You’re a dead man,” I said, trying to sound tough. I sneered at him, and he slapped my face so hard my ears rang. The sting lingered like nettles. I was going to have a hand-shaped bruise on my face.

In moments, his punishing pace slowed slightly, and he grimaced, fighting his orgasm. I clenched my inner muscles, trying to get things over with. It worked. His sigh was half satisfaction, half disappointment his fun hadn’t lasted longer.

He disguised his apparent embarrassment by clearing his throat. “In a few weeks, you’ll be looking back on this fondly.Probably the last time you get dick without a fucking bag over your head.”

Slowly, he eased out of my aching body. His satisfaction dribbled out of me, leaking down the crack of my ass.

I fought the urge to turn my head away. I glared at him with loathing, refusing to be intimidated.

He got to his feet and zipped his dress pants before reaching down for me. I lay there, contemplating my options and pretending I’d been cowed. The heat of my rage should have ignited the lawn.

“Now you’ll behave.”

I drew up my leg and kicked out, catching him in the groin with my full strength.

He went down onto his hands and knees, and I stumbled to my feet and spat on him. I was going to kick his fucking head in, bare feet or not.

Saint

How long had this asshole been talking?

I stifled the urge to yawn. Lucky was playing a game on his phone, but Warren’s full attention was on me anyway. Rush was frowning and looking toward the door. Where had the girl gotten to? Hiding in the bathroom to avoid having to listen to my long-winded sperm donor, no doubt.

Another ten minutes passed, and Lucky had joined Rush in glancing over at the door every few seconds.

I stood. Stretched. Held up a hand to interrupt Warren. The man frowned, as though I were the one being rude. We’d been held hostage to his self-important ramblings about investments long enough.

“I need to check on Clover. She’s been gone a while.”

“The girl?” he asked, as though I could mean anyone else.

“Yes, the girl,” I said dryly.

He arched a brow. “Cygnet is paid for. She’s not your problem anymore.”

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