Page 22 of Violent Hearts

Chapter 11

Jared

The drive to my place takes less than fifteen minutes, but those minutes stretch into eternity when there's a new seduction sitting next to me, a new toy to be played with.

I know this is wrong. I shouldn't take her with me before the damn paperwork is complete, but I can't help it.

Her eyes are dazed when our gazes meet as I’m helping her out of the car, her chest heaving with treacherous breaths and her legs shaking when I lead her up to my penthouse.

"This doesn't mean anything."

It's the first thing she said after I stole that first kiss from her, and she's repeated it several times since then.

When she willingly followed as I pulled her into my car… "This doesn't mean anything."

When my hand traveled up under her blouse to cup her firm tits… "This doesn't mean anything."

When she moaned as I squeezed her hardened nipple… "This doesn't mean anything."

I can tell that she's about to say it again when we enter the elevator and I pull her close to me, eager to taste and devour every single inch of her body. I block her words with a kiss when she's about to part her lips to speak. Her soft moans accompany our frenzied kiss as her body squirms against mine. She wants this, she really wants this. She's not playing an act, not trying to win me over, she's not doing anything like the shit I've become used to from other women.

On the contrary, she's trying to fight against her strong urges plaguing her soul because her conscious brain has doubts about this, even though her body screams at her in a different language.

"From now on, you'll only speak when I give you permission," I instruct upon ending our kiss when the elevator doors open directly into the entrance area of my penthouse.

Her eyes are glued to mine. I notice they’re underlined with questions as she processes my words.

"Do you understand?" I ask her.

She nods. "I think so."

Wrong answer.

I shake my head and brusquely grab onto her upper arm, shoving her forcefully into my home. She yelps in protest, stumbling alongside me as I march us past the open staircase leading up to the bedrooms and my office on the upper floor and into my living room.

Her eyes fly around the hall-like room, taking in the vastness of it: the designer furniture to her left, the living room ceiling that’s open to the upper floors, and the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the entire wall in front of us. The panoramic view of the cityscape is admittedly breathtaking, but I don't give her time to enjoy it. She'll have plenty of opportunity if she agrees to stay with me.

Right now, though, she needs to be taught a lesson.

I let go of her arm when we reach the middle of the room.

"Look at me," I growl.

She drags her attention away from the window and turns to me, rubbing her upper arm and casting me a reproachful look.

"Was this really necess-"

"Two things," I say, rudely cutting her off. "You'll address me as Sir from now on. Always. And when I tell you to do something, I want you to reply nothing but 'Yes, Sir'. Do you understand?"

She scrutinizes me as if I'd just told her to strip naked in front of a jeering crowd. Mortified, appalled, and stunned. Our eyes lock. She’s standing in front of me, rigid as a statue, and it’s obvious that she’s trying to figure out how she's supposed to handle the situation. I've never witnessed a woman struggling with how to react to my demands the way she is right now, but I have a pretty good idea of what's going on inside that pretty head of hers.

"Do you understand?" I repeat, urging her to speak.

She nods. "Yes... Sir."

Frankly, I’m rather surprised that she responded to my command so quickly. I expected her to protest, to talk back to me, offended by my request. Instead, she has given me permission to take the next step.

She's shaking. I approach her, tenderly placing my right hand on her cheek as I lean in close to her face. The wild struggle still tormenting her remains evident in her sea-colored eyes.

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