Page 17 of Cruel Devil

He comes in behind me, the floor shuddering under his heavy footfalls. He doesn’t bother trying to close the partially destroyed door, which briefly gives me hope. Like, maybe he wants to get in the shade. Skin cancer is no joke, and he’s probably not even wearing sunscreen.

“What am I going to do with you, Angel?” He takes off his jacket, folding it neatly, before dropping it to the floor.

“Look, you’ve made your point, okay?” I hurry around the desk that’s even thinner than the door outside, trying to keep something between us. “I said I’m sorry. Let’s just move on.”

He unbuckles his belt. “No, you didn’t.”

I frown, watching him pull the leather free as ghostly millipedes start crawling around in my stomach. “Really? You sure?”

“Pretty sure I’d know if Hell froze over.” He coils his belt and places it on top of his jacket, straightens, and saunters toward me with malicious intent.

My frown turns into a glare. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“If only there was a shred of contrition on your face,” he says calmly as he shoves the desk aside with a single push. “But all I see in those pretty blue eyes is stubbornness.”

I throw a stapler at him.

He dodges.

Smirks.

Lunges.

Thank God I catch his wrists before he can latch on to my throat again, but it doesn’t really help. He flicks off my hands and crashes bodily into me, pinning me between a low-back office chair and the wall with its tiny, dusty window. I try to break the glass with my elbow, hoping for a shard to defend myself with, but it’s surprisingly resilient.

“I’ll just have to fuck some remorse into you.” His eyes are chips of black stone that seem to pierce through my skull.

I’m so shocked, I don’t even fight back when he turns me around and bends me over the back of the chair. Air caresses my exposed ass and thighs infinitely more gently than the way he glides his strong hands over my skin.

“I’ll never apologize for trying to protect my family!” I throw over my shoulder, adding a hard glare in case he thinks this is still dirty talk.

“Never?” His hand cracks over my ass.

Once.

Twice.

Then across my wet underwear.

I spit out a furious, “Ever!”

“Never is a long time. But I think I can fit in a few hate fucks a day in between my cartel duties.” He grabs my pussy, jerking me up to tip toes. My underwear rips under the force of one hard tug.

He kicks my legs open and gives my bare pussy a hard, ringing slap. I almost go through the fucking roof, my hands white-knuckled on the arms of the chair I’m draped over.

He slaps me again, but this time he’s using his dick. It doesn’t sting as much, but it packs just as hard a punch. I try not to react, but my ass plumps out for him like I’m begging for it.

I am, but only to end my own suffering. Because, God, I’m aching something terrible inside.

“Christ, I love how wet you get for me.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I manage through clenched teeth as he drags his cock over my slick pussy. “As soon as I’ve found them, I’ll be flipping you off in the rear view mirror.”

He spreads me open with both hands, yanking so hard at my ass cheeks that I’m surprised I don’t rip at the seams like my pathetic underwear.

Heat flashes over my face at the thought of how wide I’m gaping for him. How exposed I am. Every hole bared and ready for him to force into.

And he does just that.

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