Page 181 of Bishop

“You consented, baby. You came all the way out here. You climbed into my car. You followed me into the house. Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”

“I want the information. I want what you promised me.”

He grabs his dick, pulling it out of his pants. “And you’ll get it. After I get mine first.”

“I’m warning you, Geppet. Let go of my hair.”

His expression turns feral, wild eyes, clenched teeth. “And I’m warning you—call me by my fucking first name.” He shoves to his feet, dragging me backward by my hair. “This is going to happen how I want it to happen. I’m the one in charge. I’m going to fuck you. Then fuck you again. Over and over until I’ve had enough. And when I’m finally done with you, then I might give you the information you’re gagging for.”

I struggle to keep up with his footsteps as I scramble backward like a crab. He releases me a few feet from the chair, towering over me as I fall onto my ass and elbows.

“Be a good girl and spread those legs.” He shimmies his pants lower. His briefs, too. “Or don’t.” He shrugs. “I think I might prefer if you fight a little.”

Good. I grin and kick out, my pointy pumps hitting him in the ankle, causing him to teeter forward with a curse. Then I pounce forward, launching my fist at his exposed cock, slamming my knuckles against his junk.

Air escapes him on impact, his bulking body hunching over as he clutches his crotch.

“Do you prefer that much fight?” I scramble around his legs, scampering on hands and knees to my clutch, flipping the flap open and dumping the contents on the floor.

“Stupid bitch,” he groans, storming for me, his footsteps thudding close behind. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

I snatch the stun gun, hiding it at my side as I swing back around, expecting a blow to the face, not anticipating the shocking impact of his shoe as it makes direct impact with my stomach.

Pain slams through me. All the oxygen in my lungs escapes.

I retch. Gag.

He grabs my hair again, dragging me to my knees, his own agony etched into his watery eyes as he cups his balls with his free hand. “I should’ve listened to your mom when she told me to kill you straight away.”

I try to yank my head against the restriction. I fight to speak. To breathe. “Wait.” I hold the stun gun behind my back, needing balance to strike, the device almost slipping from my sweaty hand.

“I’m done waiting.” He leans down toward me. “I waited for you to quit looking at me like I was an unworthy piece of shit for years. I guess I’ll just fuck you when you’re dead.”

“No,” I beg, stabilizing myself on my knees, blinking up at him with the fear he craves as I jab my arm forward and slam the stun gun to his upper thigh, pressing the trigger on impact.

The electrical current ticks to life. His body jolts with the voltage.

He stumbles backward, falling to his knees, one hand still cradling his junk. “Fuck.”

I kick off my shoes and force myself to my feet, my legs heavy, my pulse deafening in my ears. I fumble after him, screaming my fury as I jab the heel of my palm against his throat. “Tell me where she is.”

His eyes bulge with the blow. He chokes for breath.

I grab his hair and backhand him like he did to me, my knuckles blazing, my gasps for air pained and weak. “Tell me.”

He snatches for my leg, wheezing.

I jump out of reach.

He snatches again, this time for my ankles, catching my left foot and reefing me off-balance.

My ass hits the floor with a thud, but I cling tight to the stun gun.

As soon as he climbs on top of me, I hit him with more voltage against his chest, knee him in the groin, gouge his eyes.

He roars, the noise vibrating in my ears.

“Tell me,” I shriek, slamming the stun gun against his neck, pulling the trigger. “Tell me.”

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