Page 14 of Alpha's Revenge Luna
“Not the trunk, not the trunk, I’ll behave,” I scream.Then, unexpectedly, he stops.His face pulls away from me, but my eyes are on the open trunk still.He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him, his other arm sliding under my ass when he shocks me by hoisting me higher.His face is so close, just an inch closer, and our lips would meet.
“If you want out, I want to know why you’re scared of being in there, be honest, little mate.”He leans closer, his lips brushing my ear.
“You’re safer in there than with me in the car,” he warns.I swallow at his words, but my legs tighten around him, worried he’ll use that as an excuse to place me back; I would rather take my chances in the car with him.He chuckles in my fear, which he can no doubt smell.He buries his face in my neck, his nose skimming across my jaw to my chin.I see him smile darkly, and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me.His lips are that close.
“Fine.But if you disobey me again, you’ll go right back in,” he warns before trying to set me down.But I refuse to let go.“Emery, let go,” he tells me.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, eager to be away from the suffocating darkness.“Shut it first, I don’t trust you,” I panic.
He shakes his head, slamming it shut.Only then do I unwrap myself from around him and slide down his body.Dion seizes my arm, leading me back to the limo.He opens the back door and pushes me inside roughly.
“You sit with me,” he orders, patting his lap.I hesitate.“Or the trunk, your choice.”
The thought of going back in the trunk makes my heartpound.Humiliated and cornered, I slowly approach him.
“Can’t I sit beside you?”I ask.
His eyes flash dangerously, and he taps his lap.I move a step closer when he speaks again.“No, I want you to face me.”
I freeze, trying to understand what he means; surely he doesn’t mean for me to straddle him?“You want me to… face you?”I stammer.
His smirk is devilish, a predator toying with its prey.“That’s what I said.”My face heats when he confirms what I thought he said.Standing between his legs, I can feel his gaze on me.I step closer until there is no room between us.
He raises an eyebrow at my hesitation.“You’re acting like you’ve never sat on a man’s lap before,” he mocks, his arm moves wraps around my waist and he pulls me onto his lap.
“That’s because I haven’t.”
His laugh is low and cruel, a sound that makes my skin crawl as he pulls me around, so I am straddling him.He grasps my hips, and I come face-to-face with him.I grip his shoulders, trying to keep my weight off him.Now that I am close to him, I can see his every feature.
His eyes are dark grayish with red, so dark they are almost black.His brows furrow together, watching me as if he is trying to decide whether to bite me or toss me off his lap.I can’t understand how he can be so cold when he feels so warm, how the warmth of his skin can be so at odds with his icy stare.
“You’re serious?”he murmurs, regarding me carefully before pushing me down on his lap so I am seated on him; my torn dress rises to reveal my underwear, and I try to pull it down, but it’s shredded and barely covering anything at this point.I am surprised it’s still attached to me, to be honest.Only one strap remains, the silk filthy.
He smells so good, which only heightens my unease—especially when his eyes light up mischievously like he knows something I don’t.
His hand moves from my back down to my waist, where it lingers for a few seconds before settling on my thigh—justabove the knee—much too intimate for comfort.His fingers start curling beneath the fabric of my dress, sending warmth throughout my body.
He grins at me darkly, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth and a devilish glint in his eye that sends another wave of heat through me despite myself.His gaze never leaves mine as he speaks, not missing a single emotion flickering across it.“I’m sure you realize by now you’re not getting out until we reach our destination,” he announces, silencing any protest when he slowly reaches a hand around behind me and pulls down the zip of my torn dress.
I clutch the front as it begins to fall, my heart hammering in my chest.I can feel his eyes on me, cold and assessing.His hand raises, and I flinch instinctively.But he doesn’t strike me.Instead, Dion hooks a finger under the remaining strap of my dress, his claw slipping out of his fingertip, slicing through the fabric with an ease that makes my blood run colder.I gasp as he grabs my wrists.His gaze locks onto mine with a cruel smile.
“Let go,” he warns.His eyes are a deadly calm, the storm within them threatening to break loose any moment.Reluctantly, I release the grip on my dress, feeling the last thread of my dignity slip away.
The fabric pools around my hips, leaving me in nothing but my bra.He appraises me, his gaze roaming over my exposed skin.My face heats, my chest tightening.I can’t look at him.I turn away, the shame making me wish I could disappear.A second later, his finger hooks beneath my bra, undoing the clasp at the front.A whimper escapes and I hear him suck in a breath.His hand runs between my full breasts that are on display, the chill in the air making my nipples harden.
Without a word, he reaches back and unbuttons his jacket, tossing it aside.The fabric lands with a thud on the floor.He leans in, forcing me to look at him.His eyes are a storm of emotions—arrogance, amusement, and something else.He’s so close, his scent hits me.He smells of fire, smoke, ash, and his clothes reek of his scent, but they smell of something else, likelife and death.Yet oddly intoxicating and exotic, too.
Fear pumps through my veins, an intense surge of terror threatening to swallow me whole as his fingers move to start unbuttoning his shirt.I swallow hard, watching his movements.His hand grazes my crotch as he untucks his shirt to undo the last button.My breath hitches, my pulse throbbing loudly in my ears.
He leans forward slightly, and I lean back, only for him to grab me when I nearly fall off his lap.His dark chuckle echoes around us, sending shivers down my spine.His nose skims across my collarbone, a feather-light touch that feels like a bolt of electricity.His hand, warm and firm, rests on my lower back, holding me in place.My body is paralyzed, locked in his iron grip.
“You smell divine,” he whispers, his hot breath caressing my skin.A shudder runs through me.I can’t breathe.I can’t move.But then, he sits back and laughs, the sound jarring in the tense silence.He pulls his shirt off, revealing his muscular torso, his obscenely wide shoulders and well-defined chest.
Dion’s arms are large with chiseled, vein-riddled muscles.The rippling of his biceps flexes with the movement of his hands.His abs tense as he sits back in his chair.
Dion has dark hair dusting his sternum along with a trail of hair disappearing into his pants.His arms are covered in tattoos, and I can’t seem to pull my gaze away from him, as if locked in a trance.His skin is warm as I sweep my hands over his chest and down.My fingers tingle from the heat when he clears his throat.I snap out of my strange haze, shifting my eyes to him.He seems amused, and I remove my hands from his skin as if his touch burns me.
He holds out the shirt to me with a smirk.I stare at him, stunned, before I snatch the shirt from his grasp.
