Page 28 of Striker

With an angry roar, he lunges forward and I raise the fork, moving solely on instinct and aiming for his neck. Onyx eyes gleam as he latches on to my wrist, twisting my arm, forcing it behind me. I scream as pain shoots through my shoulder, my grip loosening. The fork clatters to the floor at our feet. Reaper releases my wrist as I spin to stop the agony in my arm. His hand clamps over my mouth, his other arm locking around my waist, dragging me back against his solid chest. My head slams back into his shoulder, my teeth hitting my bottom lip under his large palm, covering half my face.

“Stabbing?” The word scrapes out, laced with fury, the deep guttural sound shivering through my body. “You’re going to have to do better than a fuckingfork.”

Heart hammering, I reach up behind me, my fingers seeking his eye sockets. He growls when my index finger digs into the corner of his eye, then rakes down his cheek, catching the fabric of his mask. My figures curl around the cutout and I tug. Forced to release my mouth, he grips my arm, but his maskrips from his head and falls to the floor. He releases me, grasping my hair by the roots and shoves me forward so violently my shins slam into the metal bed frame as he throws me face down across the bed. His massive hand pushes my face down into the mattress as he hooks his other arm around my elbow, then grips my free arm, pinning both to my spine. Reaper falls forward, hips keeping me in place, his chest heaving with ragged breaths against my back.

“Naughty, naughty little kitten,” he grates.

Tucking my chin, I suck in air, my hair sliding down around my face in slashes, obscuring my vision. I can’t see him behind me, but feel every solid muscle, his huge male frame trapping me.

“Get off!” I scream, bucking my hips to push him off, but he’s too big. If anything, my movements drive his…

My entire body stills, every single nerve ending snapping to focus right where his dick presses into my ass crack. Slick heat floods my core. He’s so hard I can feel every inch of him straining against his pants through my flimsy dress. My body lights up, skin sizzling with awareness, remembering him like this. Taking me from behind. Taking my pleasure for himself until it no longer belonged to me.

UntilIdidn’t belong to me anymore.

A low, raspy sound slips from him with a rush of air, brushing against my flesh like he’s remembering too. For a second we remain still, sucking in lungful’s, the air popping with electricity. I’m breathing so hard moisture makes the blanket stick to my face, each ragged inhale sucking strands of my hair into my mouth.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hating how my body betrays me. How I can feel every inch of him, his cruel grip in my hair and his arm looped around my elbows, locking me in place.

How I like the weight of him on top of me.

“Get off me,” I say again, but it sounds like a plea instead of a demand. He sucks in sharply when I squirm, my ass digging into him again. I clench my teeth. Between my legs throbs, and I choke on all the rage singeing my chest. He did this to me. Confused my body. Confused my mind.Theydid this. Unfurled something inside me, then used it to cut me open.

“What were you going to do once you broke that window?” Reaper whispers, his lips brushing the flesh of my ear. Woodsy smoke and male flood my senses. “Run?”

He somehow makes the single word sound like a threat.

“You were going to leave your friend?”

“Never,” I hiss, arching my back, but it just drives his dick into me harder.

“Then what?” he asks. “Saveher?” He presses my head further down into the mattress, mashing my face to the blanket. “Did you plan to fight your way through us with your little fork? Then what, Kitten? Tell me what you hoped to achieve with this little stunt?”

When I struggle, gasping for air, he eases his grip. I suck in a breath and say, “It fucking got you in here.”

He stills, but his weight doesn’t leave. For a second I regret my words, thinking that I’ve pissed him off so much he may hurt me, but then he says, “Negative attention isn’t always good attention. I should punish you for being such a brat.”

“Fuck you,” I seethe, unable to control myself. Not my best response, but it’s all my scrambled brain comes up with.

“Oh Kitten,” he rasps. “I’m not going to fuck you again until you’re weeping, begging, and crawling toward me on hands and knees, your pretty pink pussy so wet, it’s dripping down your thighs.”

The hand pinning my head to the bed leaves, and lands next to my face, long fingers splayed out, but I don’t dare move. Between the strands of my hair fanning my face, I see tannedskin covered in black ink with slashes of faded red. Roses and skulls with black vines twisting around them. My heart slams in my chest, aware I’m seeing a part of him. Something he’s kept hidden until right now because I forced him.

I can’t help but wonder how many people his hands have killed.

I don’t linger on why that thought sends a dark shiver down my spine to my core

His hand leaves and Reaper shifts at my backside. I hear the recognizable clink of a belt coming undone and disbelief washes through me.

“I thought you guys didn’t force,” I say, hating how dread makes my voice crack.

He doesn’t answer. I cry out, more from fear than anything, when he repositions himself when he brings my wrists together and warm leather slips around them. When I realize what he’s doing, I choke on a scream, jerking in his grasp, trying to break free.

His heavy weight returns, dick once again digging into me. “Stop,” he growls in my ear.

I still, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m terrified. My father’s name has caged me, yes, but it provided a level of protection no one ever dared cross. My body has never been touched without my consent, if anything I’ve craved attention. Craved being touched, craved being desired and wanted.

“I should spank your ass raw.” There’s something in his voice that makes me freeze. Something raw and jagged. Like sand slipping through broken teeth. “Then spank that pretty pussy until you come for me.”

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