Page 30 of Slaughter

“I’ll pay you to let me go.”

“You don’t have a million.”

He has no clue what I have. “I’ll pay two mill—”

He shakes his head, interrupting me. “No.”

I grind my teeth and fist my hands on the table. “It’s a simple solution,” I say although I have no idea what the problem really is.

“And I said no.” He narrows his eyes on me, daring me to argue.

I do. “Why not?”

Instead of answering me, he looks back down at his phone, dismissing me.

Fuck no!

I’m not the same innocent, naïve girl he once dated. I’m a grown ass woman who doesn’t take shit. Especially whatever game he’s trying to play with me.

I reach across the table, snatch his phone out of his hand, and throw it across the formal dining room. It bounces off the tile before skidding to a stop when hitting a wall. “Why the fuck not?” I shout.

He reaches over the table and slaps me across the face so hard that my head snaps to the right. Before I can recover, he’s up and out of his seat with his hand wrapped around the back of my neck, slamming my face down onto the table and making it rattle from the force before I can even take in a breath.

I’m able to hold in the cry that threatens to come up. With his free hand, he yanks the chair out from underneath me, making me stand, bent at the waist on shaky legs.

I suck in a ragged breath that makes my already sore throat and pounding head worse. “Avery …” I whimper as those tears threaten my eyes again. “Please…” I beg, not knowing what the hell is going on and hating myself for letting that word escape. I don’t beg. Not anymore.

“Spread your legs,” he growls, ignoring my plea.

I try to shake my head, but he holds it in place, my already throbbing cheek pressed against the cold surface. When he realizes I’m not going to obey, he yanks my shorts down my hips with his free hand.

“Avery …” I squeal. “What are you …?”

“I told you I was gonna punish you for not obeying,” he says, interrupting me with satisfaction in his voice.

A sob gets lodged in my throat when I feel my shorts hit the floor. “Step out,” he orders. I obey because what other choice do I have? He kicks them away. Then his shoes are spreading my wobbly legs effortlessly. I don’t even try to fight him, though I could if I really wanted to.

I’m so fucking wet for him that it’s pathetic. Even if I do hate him, my body doesn’t understand that.

I jump when I feel his fingers run along my pussy. I hadn’t worn any underwear to bed. “You’re a bastard,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage.

“And you’re a whore.”

His words make me flinch, but they’re true. I can’t argue them. And I hate that he knows me so well after only being back in my life for such little time.

“Tell me, Bunny. Why do you spread your legs for every man?” he asks casually.

I don’t answer.

“Is it because you miss me? Is it because none of them satisfy you like I once did?” he whispers, and I try to push him off me, but I’m unsuccessful.

He slides a finger into me, and I bite my lip, refusing to give him any indication that I like the way it feels to be so intimate with him once again. I know what he plans on doing, and it’s not make love.

“I want you like this one last time, Bunny.”

It wasn’t a dream. He was in my house. And we had had sex. Now it all makes sense.

“I told you that you are mine,” he says, adding a second finger.

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