Page 166 of Maddox
What the heck? Do I have ‘victim’ written on my forehead?
“No,” I blurt. “Stop. My-My uncle will be mad.”
This is probably the only instance in my life where admitting I’m related to the fucker is a good thing and I pray this works when the skeevy asshole cocks his head.
His beady eyes stare at me in the moonlight and I cringe away when he says, “Darlin’ I don’t give a fuck about your uncle.”
I’m so fucking scared that I have to lock my knees, but I summon my most bitchy tone and huff, “Really? Well, I’ll be sure to let Ice know.”
He drops my arm so quickly that I sway as he says, “Prez is your uncle?”
“Yep.”
Mustering an arrogant smile, I back away while he scratches his head.
This isn’t over but at least I’ve avoided being led back to Ice or so I thought until he steps forward, and I fall back, landing on my ass this time.
My throat burns when he chuckles and leans over me but I bite back the scream trembling on my tongue and bark, “Leave me the fuck alone.”
Absently, I note the sweat beading in my armpits, despite the chill seeping into my ass and a shiver overtakes me.
It’s fucking cold and if I’m not mistaken, bound to snow again too, all of which my newfound admirer ignores while his squirrely eyes drop to my chest and he says, “Nope, I don't think so. Ice’ll have my ass if I don’t bring you back.”
Fuck. Shit. Damn.
My only option is to use the weapon but once I do, I’m alerting every other dick and that’s not an option.
Thankfully the darkness conceals it, still pressed against my thigh and in a last-ditch effort to get away without causing a scene, I turn and push to my feet.
I only manage a few steps before he hits me in the back and I fall to my face, groaning into the wet soil.
My spine aches as a result but more importantly, I just ate fucking dirt.
Gah.
Spitting it out, I press my palms into the ground and push up. Where did the gun go?
Peeking through my lashes, I glance around. I’m surrounded by trees, and I can hear the sounds of the party behind me but beyond the slice of moon this fucker is currently blocking, I can’t see anything but snow and slushy dirt.
“You’re a pretty little thing,” the asshole grunts, grabbing my leg.
“Stop,” I mutter, and he drops to my back, pressing the air from my lungs in a whoosh.
“You been fucked, yet?” he asks, his acrid breath assaulting my nose.
When I don’t answer, all my thoughts on summoning a fucking breath and figuring out where the damn gun went, he says, “C’mon now, sweet thing like you? Yeah, I’m betting someone’s tapped that.”
“No,” I moan, but for my efforts he slaps the side of my head.
Pain shoots up my jaw, but it supersedes the ache in my back, and I whimper, “Please. Stop.”
“Don’t worry,” he chuckles. “Ice won’t care.”
With little choice because I’ve lost the gun, I drop my head and concede, if I don’t step up my game, I’m gonna die but am I ready to do this?
Yes, I fucking am because this is not my end. I refuse to let it be, which is why, I infuse as much lust as I can muster when all I feel is complete disgust and say, “You want me?”
“Huh?” he says, pausing.
