Page 33 of Heirs of Havoc

But it feels too good not to.

Dom laughs from the other room reminding me we’re not the only people here.

“Should we check on her?” Feliks asks.

“She gets what she deserves,” Dom replies, proving again he doesn’t give a fuck about me. But that’s the least of my concern right now because Vlad pushes all the right buttons.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Vlad brings his lips closer, a sneer on his face. “Fuck, Merlo ...” Closing my eyes, I can feel everything. The pressure on my neck, the wetness between my legs. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He holds my clit between his fingers, his thumb swirling over all sides of my wet, sensitive bundle. And when he bites into my skin, the bottle still in my mouth, I get a hint of spice when I… holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

My back arches against the island, something hardening against my leg. Vlad’s cock. And a piece of me wishes it was elsewhere when I see stars. Vlad makes it very clear he has more power over me than I thought. Enough to make me crumble. Enough to make me come right here in the middle of the kitchen. But that doesn't make him stop. He keeps rubbing me until my legs shake. Until I fear he'll get what he wants. Sauce down my throat.

He chuckles, his onslaught coming to a stop. "You think you get to come?”

My eyes pop open when he pulls his hand away. The blurry kitchen comes back to me and it's only then I realize how sweaty I am. Breathless.

"You don't fucking deserve that." Vlad pulls the bottle out of my mouth like he’s taking in every movement. Like he’s wishing it was him. He leans in closer, his dewy lips only an inch away. "Don't let it happen again."

He leaves me exposed against the counter as he moves to the dining room. Looking over his shoulder, he sticks his fingers in his mouth and that only re-ignites the fire in me.

"The next time you do some stupid shit like that,” he says. “It’ll be the barrel of Feliks’ Ruger.”

* * *

Splash!

Cold water falls over my face, a squeal escaping me as I plummet back to reality.

Not only is it hard getting any sleep in this place, but what Vlad did made it impossible. While I should think about getting out of here, Vlad on top of me in the kitchen played in my mind all night. And when it wouldn't stop, I had to think of another way to get some sleep. I've never rubbed one out in the dark, but it made it easy to think of him on top of me again. Inside me, holding me down with his brute force. And when I came, I felt so much fucking worse.

How fucked up am I?

That question took over my mind all night. What kind of girl gets turned on by her captors? He strong, brawny, muscular captors. I must have only gotten a minute of sleep before this hell of a wake-up call.

Cold water drenches my clothes, not that I have much. With the few buttons left on my uniform blouse, I’ve kept it open, my bra the only clothing underneath. My kilt doesn’t keep me warm in my prison, the cold overtaking my body as quick as Feliks whips out a gun.

“Morning, Mia Mouse.” And that voice makes me shiver even more.

Chapter Fourteen

Dom hovers over me, a black hoodie over his head and a cigarette hanging off his lip.

A bright light comes to my face, my coils clouding my vision, but not for long.

Dom’s hand makes me jump when he pulls my hair back, wrapped in his hold. “Who the fuck is Nani?”

Squinting, Nani’s number shines on my ringing phone. “It’s… it’s my boss.” Shoot, she's likely worried. Or disappointed. I should’ve been there.

Reaching for the phone, Dom pulls it back. “I’m the only boss you have now. Don't forget that.” He pulls me to stand by my hair, an ache on my skull. “But I don’t need the heat, so you’ll keep up appearances.” After pushing the phone in his pocket, he crouches down, picking up a bundle of clothes he shoves at my chest. "Put that on. And don't make me wait like a fucking simp."

When he lets my strands go, I’m grateful for something dry and warm. Unfolding the bundle reveals a pair of joggers and a black t-shirt. His. It smells like him. “I can’t wear this to work. I have clothes in my bag.”

“You mean the skirts and dresses?” Dom chuckles. “Hell no, Mia Mouse, you wear what I tell you. Just like they do in the pen.”

“I get it Dom, you were a prisoner, you—” My back hits the mattress, soaked and cold. He climbs on top of me, his hand going to my throat. A gurgle escapes me but that only makes him squeeze harder.

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