Page 19 of The Vengeance You Crave
"You're a tease, Peyton. Walking around like this, giving guys ideas." His eyes drop to my breasts, and even in the dark, I know exactly what he can see and it makes me want the ground to swallow me whole.
My hands curl into tight fists and I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing that I were anywhere but here right now. That we could have collided again in any other place than this. Any other time than tonight.
"Tell me, P. Were these as hard for them as they are for me right now?"
I gasp when his soft touch brushes over one of my nipples.
His fingers tighten around my throat when I don't immediately respond.
"I-It's the cold."
"Fucking bullshit, P. We both know that if I were to push my hand inside your panties right now that you'd be dripping fucking wet for me."
My eyes fly up to his in shock. His words rocking me to my very core and reminding me that I'm not dealing with a sixteen-year-old Luca anymore. I'm dealing with a man with more anger and hurt than I know how to navigate.
"Wait…" he says before I have any time to fight my corner. "You are wearing panties, right? You're not that desperate for those cunts' money that you've been bending over in this short skirt all night and showing them what's mine."
"Y-yours?" I stutter, ignoring the rest of his statement. My shock at his ownership of my body too much to brush aside.
A low, menacing chuckle rumbles up his throat. A terrifying smirk curls at his lips.
"Yeah, Peyton.Mine."
I swallow, trying to force down the ever-growing lump, but it's pointless. Even long after he releases me, I know it's going to remain.
I hold his eyes, dragging up as much confidence as I can muster while refusing to dignify his question with an actual answer.
That all goes to shit though when he lowers his hand, skimming his knuckles along the edge of my skirt.
"Yes. Yes," I cry. "I'm wearing panties."
Pulling his hand away, he lifts the cash he's still got in his fingers.
His lips curl once more before he pushes it all into the pocket of his sweats.
"Luca, please. I need—"
"What you need is to stop looking like a cheap whore, P."
"It's my job. I need the money."
"Tell me why and maybe I'll go easier on you. Assuming I believe a word that comes out of your lying mouth.”
6
Luca
My heart is a runaway train in my chest as I stare into her silver eyes, watching her internal battle. She wants to tell me her reasons for being here because she wants to get away, I don't need to be able to feel the tremor wracking her body to know that she's scared of me right now, I can practically taste her fear and it feeds some part of me that I wasn't aware needed sating quite so badly.
I knew standing before her, looking into her eyes was going to calm the war raging inside me. But I had no idea her fear was going to be this… addictive.
"Tell me," I demand again as footsteps in the gravel of the parking lot sound out. I have no idea if it's some of tonight's late-night customers or staff, I don't rip my eyes from Peyton's to find out.
I don't need to say anything to warn her against calling out or asking for help. She seems to know that it would be a really bad fucking thing to do.
She swallows once more, her delicate skin rippling against my hand, making me want to tighten my hold to terrify her even more. But I resist, for now.
I still want to address the fact that even in the fucking dark I can clearly see the imprint of her nipples through her shirt and why she thought for even a second that it was a good idea to step outside of the house looking like that, let alone spend the night around the disgusting cunts who spend their Tuesday nights at The Locker Room.
