Page 20 of Stolen Christmas
“Please don’t hurt him,” she begs again. Fuck, it’s hot as hell the way she begs. I’m going to enjoy hearing her plead for more while she’s riding my dick. It’ll be heaven for the devil.
“You behave and do what I say, and I won’t.” She nods and then slides inside the back, and I get in, doing my best not to touch her just yet.
Closing the door behind us, Sammy gets back into the driver’s seat. “Put up the divider.”
“I’m not a prostitute,” she insists immediately.
“That’s real fucking good because if you think I wanted to kill your brother, you have no idea what I am going to do to that fucking piece-of-shit Fields in the station.”
“What? Why would you want to hurt Tony?” The fact that she has such a closeness with a man I hate pisses me off and creates this new irrational emotion in me that shouldn’t be there.
I squeeze her pretty face just enough to get her focused on me. “He put his hands on you. He touched you, fucked you, and tasted you. Only to then, what? Willingly pawned you off for what?” I need to know why she is dressed like she’s about to fuck in the middle of winter, with it being twenty-five degrees out.
“I work at a strip club.” I see red immediately. That won’t fucking do for shit. Hundreds of men a night get their rocks off from seeing her naked. Those perfect tits that are barely covered by her tiny dress were revealed to lecherous eyes. How many men has she danced for—privately?
“No, you worked there, and it won’t happen again,” I inform her. She reacts like I expected, so I let her because, for some reason, her feistiness is erotic as hell. The leather seat under me crunches as I turn my body to get a better view of her. Even in the darkness of the vehicle, I can see the way her chest rises and falls.
She rips herself from my hold, turns herself in the seat to sit up straight, and stares at me with as much bravado and strength as she can muster, and says, “Excuse me. Look, I don’t know how this temporary custody thing works or how you managed to be awarded it without a judge, but you don’t have any authority over me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I grip her chin and force her to look at me. Damn, I’m starting to really enjoy that. Instantly, I imagine holding her face while sliding my dick down her throat, watching her take me down.
A low rumble comes from my chest before I clear out my throat and straighten my expression. “If you want your brotherto live, you’ll do whatever the fuck I want you to do. Now what will it be?” She gasps, but there’s no hesitation. My pretty angel nods in my grip. “Good. Now, be quiet because I have some calls to make, and you’re already enough of a distraction.” Reluctantly, I release her and watch as she rubs her face, looking delectable. I pull out my phone and watch as she eyes the door.
Swiftly I lean down, crowding her space and creating an undeniable hunger I need to sate soon, and then I whisper in her ear, “And remember, if you bolt from this vehicle, I will kill him. Understood?”
She completely deflates and then asks, “Why are you doing this?”
“You need to understand something. I don’t answer to anyone, but for you, I will make an exception. There are several reasons your brother is on my list. First, the little shit stole jewelry, which he planted in my bag when he slammed into me as he tried to flee. However, the main one is that he destroyed one of the only two gifts my mother wants for Christmas. It was rare and beautiful, and it took me a long time to find it. The other gift she wants is even rarer, and let’s just say you’ll help me give it to her.” I sit back and watch as she tries to puzzle it all out; however, it doesn’t matter. She’s mine, brother or not, but if we want a harmonious relationship, I suppose not killing her brother is a must.
Chapter Seven
Angel
I’m trying to catch my breath and process the words that come out of that deliciously sinister mouth of his. I don’t even know this man, and he’s made demands, commanded me, coerced, and even, shall I say, charmed me into submission.
I sit back in the expensive leather seats, warm and unfazed by the brutally cold night, and ponder what we could possibly give his mother for Christmas. What does this brute of a man want with me? Okay, I know what he wants from me, with the way his gray eyes peer into mine with a lust so intense that I feel it through every pore in my body. There’s no denying he wants me naked.
First, I’ve been a well-developed young woman for long enough to understand the opposite sex. Besides, I’ve worked at the club for a week, and I already understand every look a man has when they look at me, from desire to anger, and this man has had them all in a matter of minutes. The most potent one is the blatant hunger. But what happens when he’s had his fill?
“How long will you have my brother in your custody?” I ask, wanting to get a feel for how long I need to be of service because I have a gut feeling that’s all this guy has. People are of use and nothing more. Women who come and go because anything else is too much trouble.
“Don’t worry about that.” I stare at him, impressed by the firmness of his jaw and the way his lips hold a tight line.
“I have to be concerned about it. I’m his legal guardian and his sister.” It is true, even if there is a lie embedded inside.
In a flash he’s on me, fisting my hair and tilting my head back with his face inches from mine, breaths mingling. I can see the desire in his eyes as they move to my mouth, lingering there like he’s dying to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he whispers, “Didn’t I say don’t worry about it?” Damn, why does that controlled, domineering tone turn me on? “Just relax, and everything will be just fine.” He releases me and sits back as if he didn’t just awaken me sexually without actually putting his mouth on my body.
I take a panting breath and steal a glance at my captor of sorts and notice I’m not alone in the suffering; I can see him adjusting his length as he sits in the darkness. His body is just as fucked as mine, but that’s what he gets because he started this mess. I’m the innocent one here.
“What are your measurements?” he grunts. I rub my lips. My actual measurements are a mystery to me. I haven’t had them done in forever, and that was for a dance performance during my junior year.
“I don’t know,” I answer, shrugging my shoulders. I forget what size this old thing is. Everything I wear is old. Maybe it is too old because it ran a little small.
“Fine, make it difficult.” He tucks his phone into the door handle and then quickly lifts me onto his lap, laying me onto his knees so he has access to my back and slides the zipper of my dress down. I’m about to fight him when he reads off the tag, goes for my panty tag as well, and then zips me back up. He reads my shoe next before ending the call.
“What was that for?”
“Obviously, I was ordering you some clothes.” Yes, because this happens to me every freaking day.
